The battle rages on.
Ali Bell and Cole Holland’s crew of zombie slayers thought they’d won the war against Anima Industries, the evil company responsible for capturing and experimenting on zombies in an effort to discover the secret to immortality. In the last epic clash, the slayers lost many of their crew and closest friends. But Frosty, the ice man himself, has not recovered from one casualty in particular—the love of his life, Kat Parker.
On the path to self-annihilation, Frosty receives a message from beyond—Kat’s spirit returns, insisting he partner with rogue slayer Camilla Marks. Frosty will do anything for Kat. Except that. Camilla is the one who betrayed them all, leading to Kat’s death.
But when Anima rises from the grave to become a force the slayers may not have the strength to overcome, Frosty, Camilla and all the slayers will have to work together to survive. And one broken slayer will learn that sometimes, the line between hate and attraction is blurred...and the road to redemption isn’t through revenge, but in letting go of the past and grabbing hold of the future.
A MAD ZOMBIE PARTY
Gena Showalter
I crawl out of bed like I’m one of the walking dead and rub my gritty eyes. My temples throb, and my mouth tastes like something furry crawled inside, nested, had babies and died. I’m on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth with a gallon of bleach when I realize my surroundings are unfamiliar. Ignoring a flood of dizziness, I scan a bedroom that has pictures of flowers hanging on pink walls, sparkly shirts and skirts spilling from an oversized closet and a vanity scattered with a thousand different kinds of makeup.
Not exactly my style.
A sleepy sigh draws my attention to the bed, and memories rush in fast. I spent the night with a girl—the newest in a long line of randoms I’ve selected for one reason and one reason only. A resemblance to Kat. This particular hookup has dark hair and sun-kissed skin...or so I thought. Now, in the bright light of the morning, I see the strands aren’t quite dark enough and her skin is more sun-screwed.
My stomach clenches, and my hands curl into fists as hard as hammerheads. Usually I leave two seconds after the deed is done. Just enough time to zip my pants. What can I say? I’m a class A dick. But at least I’m at the top of my field. Counts for something, right?
I hate the things I’m doing, but I won’t stop doing them. I’m not sure I can. After a few shots of whiskey, I’m able to pretend the girl I’m with is my sweet little Kitty Kat, and I’m touching her again and she’s loving it, begging me for more, and everything will be okay, because we’ll be together forever. I imagine she’ll cuddle close afterward and say things like, “You’re the luckiest guy in the world and you don’t deserve me, but don’t worry, no one does,” and I’ll laugh, because she’s ridiculous and adorable and everything right in my world. In the morning, she’ll demand I apologize for doing bad things in her dreams.
She’ll make my life worth living.
Then morning will actually arrive, and I’ll realize she won’t be doing any of those things because she’s dead, and I’m the puss who couldn’t save her. A fact that still haunts me. But I deserve to be haunted. I deserve to be punished.
Kat deserved my loyalty until the very end—my end. And this crap? I’m cheating on her memory with girls I don’t know, don’t even like, and will always resent. They’re not my Kat, they’ll never be my Kat and they have no right to put their hands on her property.
Hell. Even still, they deserve better.
What I’m doing...it’s wrong. It’s seriously messed up. I’m not this guy. Only assholes use and lose, and once upon a time I would have been the guy who beat a prick like me into blood, pulp and powder.
Ask me if I care.
Before my newest mistake wakes up, I gather my discarded clothing and dress in a hurry. My shirt is wrinkled, ripped and stained with lipstick and whiskey. I don’t bother fastening my pants. The combat boots I leave untied. I look like exactly what I am: a hungover piece of scum who could pass for a zombie. I make my way out the front door and realize I’m on the second floor of an apartment building. I scan the surrounding parking lot but find no sign of my truck.
How the hell did I get here?
I remember going to a nightclub, throwing back one shot after another, dancing with the brunette, throwing back a few more shots and...yeah, okay, piling inside her little sedan. I’d been too wasted to drive. Now I’ll have to walk back to the club, because there’s no way in hell I’m waking Hookup to ask for a ride. I’d have to answer questions about my nonexistent intentions.
As I stride down the sidewalk, the air is warmer than usual, the last vestiges of winter having surrendered to spring. The sun is in the process of rising, igniting the sky with different shades of gold and pink, and it’s one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
I give it the finger.
The world should be crying for the treasure it’s lost. Hell, it should be snot-sobbing.
At least I don’t have to worry about being ambushed by zombies right now. The scourge of the earth usually only slink out at night, the bright rays of the sun too harsh for their sensitive husks.
I come across a gas station and buy a toothbrush, tube of toothpaste and a bottle of water. In the bathroom, I take care of the furry thing and her babies still nesting in my mouth and begin to feel human again.