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Okay, so this rumor about a wall in the Midwest, a way to cut off the zombie infection from the rest of the
country& we both knew it was a long shot. But we kept moving toward it. Kept hoping it wasn t all a
colossal fake out.
If it was& well, I had no idea what we d do then. We d have one vial of a cure and no one to give it to.
Plus, since it had taken us a month to get to Oklahoma City, we had to figure it would take us another
month to get to the wall, which would put us smack dab in the middle of a Midwest winter, complete with
snow, ice, and frigid temps. Fun, eh?
Yeah, sounds like a fucking laugh riot to me.
He motioned me into the dressing room without any more discussion on the touchy subject of walls, or
lack thereof. Inside he had set up a portable shower we d managed to grab from a camping supply store
somewhere around Albuquerque. The shower would be cold, but it would do the job. Although since I
hadn t actually worked out at the gym we d taken shelter in, I didn t exactly need it. I was mostly there to
stand guard.
Which I did (along with taking a couple of peeks by lamplight at my sweetie soaping up& what? We re
married!!). But pretty soon he was changed and we started toward the vestibule of the gym, with Dave
loading up a shotgun as we went.
Okay, so I d like to get at least thirty miles today, he said as he cocked the shotgun with one hand.
I nodded. So I m sure that sounds crazy to you. Thirty miles in a day? In the pre-apocalypse days we
would have been talking thirty minutes, maybe less. But these are not pre-apocalypse driving conditions,
people. There were several things that kept us from getting much farther:
1.
We tried to stay off main roads. I mean, big roads meant abandoned cars to move, fires to put out
(literally and figuratively), and the occasional highwayman to avoid.
2.
We tried to avoid cities. So I d said we were in Oklahoma City, but that wasn t exactly true. We were
actually about fifteen miles north of there in a town called Guthrie. Unlike the real city, which had over five
hundred thousand residents who were probably pretty much all zombies now& Guthrie rocked a little less
than ten thousand. See what I m saying?
3.
Finally, the last reason we moved so slow became very clear as we stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling
glass doors that led to the outside and the parking lot where we d parked our big old SUV right in a pimp
spot.
That reason would be the zombies.
I guess they saw us come into town, I said mildly as I peered outside. It was early still and the sky was
dark from dawn and from the heavy rain clouds that were gathering.
Oh yeah; also it was dark because there was a crowd of about twenty zombies all gathered at the
windows, climbing up on top of each other, growling and pawing the glass until they streaked it with sludge
and blood and& goo of an undefined nature. Which is more disturbing, by the way. Definable goo is way
better. Trust me, I m an expert now.
I guess they did, Dave said with a long-suffering sigh. He turned toward the check-in desk where we d
left a pile of our shit when we entered the gym last night. There were all kinds of guns in a big mass there,
including a super cool multi-shot cannon.
Well, he said with sigh. Ready to do this?
I grabbed two 9mms and slipped clips into place in a smooth motion that had taken months of practice
to perfect.
Fuck yeah. Ready as I ll ever be.
With a half-grin in my direction, Dave flipped the flimsy lock on the glass door and let the horde in.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I can t say enough good things about the team of publishing professionals who have made creating the
Living with the Dead series such a wonderful experience. From Jack and Alex in Publicity (who listen to
my suggestions and never sigh so I can hear them), to Lauren Panepinto, who designed my kick-ass
covers, to Jennifer Flax, who makes the ship go to everyone else who lurks about behind the scenes
making my life easier. And then there is Devi Pillai, editor extraordinaire, who talks to me about food on
the phone and laughs at my jokes. Awesome.
I also want to acknowledge all the zombie fans who have responded so positively to these stories and
shared their excitement (and links to my website) far and wide. I feel like I have my own little zombie
posse with you guys around and that s pretty damn cool.
Finally, I have to acknowledge my parents. Daddy, I m sure if I survived a zombie apocalypse it would
be because you taught me everything I needed to know (though I m sure zombies weren t what you had in
mind while teaching me to be a crack shot). And Mom, you have put up with the strangest family possibly
in the universe. Thanks for being the normal one. Well, normalish, anyway.
Table of Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome Page
Dedication
Extras
Meet the Author
A Preview of EAT, SLAY, LOVE
1. Do what you love and the zombies will follow.
2. The question: What color is my parachute? The answer: Blood red, brains gray, sludge black.
3. Who moved my cheese? And my shotgun?
4. Be proactive& and ready to run if proactive backfires.
5. Don t fear change. Just fear everything and everyone else.
6. Expand. Why stick to just killing zombies? Or killing them just one way.
7. Profits are everything. But to get them you have to catch a zombie.
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