So this week I’m reading a zombie (shocker) apocalypse (shocker) novel called Grace Lost, by M. Lauryl Lewis, in which some sort of blue mist from space has coated the world and caused the dead to rise. Or something like that.
Oh, wait, sorry. That was a different space-based zombie apocalypse there. Let’s try this again.
There we go! Excuse me, ma’am? You’ve got red on you.
Now, I still haven’t quite decided if I’m going to finish this book or not, which so far is sort of like a low-octane episode of “The Walking Dead” featuring the characters who haven’t gotten as much screen time this season as their contracts specify. I’m mainly still reading it for a cowboy character, Gus, who’s more interesting than the main character so far. Once he becomes zombie chow, I’m outta here. But until then …
That’s when I saw them, quickly approaching from the tree line in the distance. There were too many to count. Some were badly damaged and others looked like they were people just out for a walk. I knew better. The way they moved was a dead give-away.
Ha ha ha! It’s a “dead” giveaway! That one totally went by me when I read it on the page. Well played, Ms. Lewis. Well played. Meanwhile, speaking of the living dead (or at least the undead), I’m back at work applying the editing notes I made on my last read-through of Television Man. And you know what that means, right? That means more of Bob’s hijinx as he attempts to figure out how to be a hero.
Bob drew a deep breath, held it, let it out. “Okay. Let’s say there really is a vampire holding Myra prisoner.”
“There is,” Paltruck said.
Hey Bob, here’s a tip. If Paltruck tells you something — listen to him.
Viscosity 