Here is a sneak peek inside my upcoming novella Bob Meets Sam. I hope you enjoy:
The zombie sang along as he danced and soon he was head-bobbing like an agitated rooster and pointing his finger disco-style. The other patrons watched him with smiles on their faces. Anytime he pointed his finger someone’s way they ducked a little. Bob was well known in Martin’s Bar and folks knew that parts of him had a habit of disengaging from the others.
As Creedence Clearwater Revival’s ‘Fortunate Son’ replaced AC/DC Bob’s dancing slowed. He still made patrons smile as he did the sprinkler to the CCR hit. Griffin chuckled as he turned his attention back to doing inventory. He kept on counting the liquor bottles, stopping occasionally to watch the zombie get down.
It was during an unintentionally aggressive disco point to the door that Bob’s hand flew off and toward the entrance. A tall lithe woman with olive skin and dark hair caught the hand midair and smiled.
“Damn, Bob, you could’ve given me a hug instead of a flying high five.”
“Hey, Sam! You know me, I love lending a hand.” Bob shrugged. He’d recently gotten over being embarrassed about losing a part or two, it happened more often these days.
“Catch,” Samantha Reece hollered as she tossed his hand back to him.
He caught it and walked calmly to the bar, pulling his trusty yellow stapler from the pocket of his jean jacket. As he stapled the hand back on he pretended not to see the winces of the other customers. People were used to Bob losing a limb, that wasn’t the problem. It was getting used to him stapling it back on with a loud ka-chunk that was not for the squeamish.
As Sam came over to him Bob opened his arms to hug her. It’d been awhile since he had seen her and he’d read about her latest exploit in the papers. She’d caught a vicious serial killer and made the streets of Birmingham safe for good honest monsters like Bob and his horde. He pulled the jacket from the stool upsetting it in the process and the stool banged into his shin, hard.
“Oh, crap, crap, crap, ow, crap!” Bob hissed through clenched teeth as he hopped on one foot clutching his injured shin with both hands.
“You okay?” Sam tried to hide her smile at the typically Bob-like maneuver.
“Yeah, it just smarts a little.” Bob motioned to the stool that had just assaulted him and continued, “I saved you a seat.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Sam slid onto the stool smoothly and Bob wished he possessed half the grace that the shifter did. Unfortunately, the only grace in Bob’s life came when he prayed before meals.
“How have you been?”
“Good. Things have been… Well, they’ve been weird, I guess.”
“I heard about the serial killer you stopped.”
“Yeah, that was a rough one. I didn’t think it was going to be quite that difficult.”
“Well, he was a shifter himself, so the fact he was preying on other shifters made it hard to swallow. In the end he believed the Hollywood facts and thought we were all evil and in need of a good killing.”
“To say the least,” Sam looked haunted and shook her head as if to try and shake off some bad memories.
* * * * *
The stench of rotting flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Summer of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 30+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of June.
Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!
Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!
#SummerofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!