Author: R.M. Ridley
Published:June 28th 2014
Published by: Xchyler Publishing
When predictions tell Wendell Courtney he’s going to die, he turns to the one man he hopes can help. Jonathan Alvey’s no stranger to the strange. But, unlike the private investigator’s run-of-the-mill zombie cases, he can find no trace of magic around Wendell, and no hint of an adversary. Alvey certainly has magic and wits enough to solve the mystery, but is his offering to the insatiable dragon black sufficient? Or is Wendell truly destined to die?
The two silent zombies came towards him in a flanking maneuver. They didn’t moan, shuffle, or lurch as popular media often portrayed; the corpses came at him like heartburn after bad Mexican food.
Jonathan tossed the glass of bourbon at the zombie on his left as he dodged the wide swing of its hairy-knuckled fist. He kicked his chair out at the one on his right, scooped his Beretta out from the top drawer, and vaulted onto his desktop. An avalanche of books tumbled onto the floor.
He took less than a second to aim the nine-millimeter before taking the shot. Shooting zombies is considered ineffectual at best. They felt no pain, were animated with spells, and also, already quite dead. But that didn’t mean a firearm couldn’t be put to use against them.
The key was to target the appropriate body parts.
The report of the gun in the small room was thunderous and followed by shrill screams from the front office. Jonathan dropped the Beretta; he wouldn’t get much use of it again in such a fight.
He slid off the front of his desk and ran headlong at the zombie in his doorway.
Hitting the body felt like tackling a hanging side of beef, but it did move, which is what Jonathan needed. The corpse toppled back and to the right, as its bullet-shattered kneecap gave way.
Jonathan scrambled over the chest of the creature and couldn’t resist giving it a kick to the head.
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