I'm helping celebrate the launch of Patricia Josephine's latest outing, The Cure, which looks like another excellent addition to a great collection of work by this author. You should check it out or some of her other books if you haven't already.
Every human in the world becomes a zombie when they die. But Erin refuses to accept the world as it is now. She’s heard about a cure locked away in a lab in Upper Michigan, and she plans on retrieving it. To do so, she needs a zombie. Not just any zombie, though.
Zee is Erin’s link to the lab. His connection to the living world is her bargaining chip. But only if she can teach him to control his mindless impulses.
Can a zombie be trained? Or will Erin be Zee’s next meal and become a zombie herself? The fate of humanity rests in her hands.
I rose with the sun. A yawn shook me as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Before the world ended, I wasn’t a morning person. Most days I woke closer to noon. My job as a freelance writer allowed it. Like an idiot, I took it for granted. Now, if I wanted to get anything done, I had to do it while the sun was up and visibility was good.
Damn, I missed sleeping in.
I dragged my feet as I headed to the deck. Sunlight cast golden rays across the river. Waves lapped gently at the yacht’s side. The air was crisp, and my breath fogged.
I cracked open a bottle of water and took a sip. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee. I used to have a canister of instant coffee, but I ran out three months ago. I was still chastising myself for not rationing it better. Later, I would go to the Soo Locks Park and stock up on supplies. I could barter for more there.
Acquiring coffee had to wait, though. My new friend needed to be checked on.
I scarfed down a breakfast bar before grabbing my shotgun and a backpack and clambered into the raft.
A moan pierced the air as I reached land. I secured the raft and darted to the base. I entered a small reception area. A waist high desk was near the door with a computer sitting on it. A few chairs were set in the center of the room. Notifications hung on a cork bulletin board. Silence hung in the air as if the room was a bubble that somehow escaped the apocalypse. I almost expected to see Coast Guard personnel walk through the door and demand to know what I was doing.
I shook the feeling off and strode to the red cooler under a window. Flies swarmed around it. When I opened it, a sour stench assaulted my nose. I gagged, barely holding down my breakfast, grabbed a dead rat, and slammed the lid shut.
I walked to the tarp, removed a cinder block, and lifted the edge. Snarls greeted me. The zombie clawed at the sides of the earth. Hunger lit its eyes like fireworks. I lifted my shotgun and pointed it at its head. It stilled.
“That’s a good boy.” I lowered onto my knees. “You’ve been dead long enough to develop your basic instincts. How to walk and run. I’ve heard stories of zombies who forgot how to do that.”
The zombie watched me with narrowed eyelids. The color of its eyes had dulled to a muddy brown, and the whites were tinged yellow. Was it trying to figure out how to get out and eat me?
I smirked. “You should know how to hunt by now. Zombies sometimes hunt in packs. You aren’t as mindless as movies made you out to be.” I dangled the dead rat above it.
The zombie snarled, and spit flew from its mouth.
“I bet,” I continued, “it’s the hunger. It’s consumes you, like a vampire’s bloodlust. Well, if those were real.” Thank goodness they weren’t. One supernatural creature had been more than enough to destroy the world.
A surge of bitterness rose up my throat. The skin on my knuckles turned white from how tightly I clutched the rat by the tail.
This could’ve been stopped. Lives and the world could’ve been saved. She might still be here.
About the Author
Patricia lives with her husband in Michigan, hopes one day to have what will resemble a small petting zoo, and has a fondness for dying her hair the colors of the rainbow.
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