Zombies Don't Forgive: Book 2

Zombies Don't Forgive: Book 2

5.0 2
by Rusty Fischer
     
 

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Following Barracuda Bay’s homecoming cum zombie Armageddon, fellow zombies Maddy, Dane, and Stamp have fled to Orlando where they work at a theme park, hiding in plain sight at their jobs in the Great Movie Monster Makeover show. The three spend most of their time together in their apartment trying to avoid curious Normals and Sentinels—humans and

Overview


Following Barracuda Bay’s homecoming cum zombie Armageddon, fellow zombies Maddy, Dane, and Stamp have fled to Orlando where they work at a theme park, hiding in plain sight at their jobs in the Great Movie Monster Makeover show. The three spend most of their time together in their apartment trying to avoid curious Normals and Sentinels—humans and zombie cops. While Dane and Maddy draw closer, Stamp drifts away, falling for a mysterious blonde. But when the mysterious girl puts their existence in danger, all Maddy cares about is hunting the blonde down to separate her from her head.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“In terms of campy, bloody fun, it delivers.”  —Booklist on Vamplayers

“I felt like I’ve known Maddy my whole life. I could not put this book down. I had to know what happened next. I hope Fischer writes a second book.”  —Horror Web on Zombies Don’t Cry

“This book is witty, funny, romantic, and downright brilliant. I highly recommend it to lovers of paranormal romance as well as readers who just want a breath of fresh air in the YA market.”  —YA Bound on Zombies Don’t Cry

"Popcorn fun for the brain-munching set." —Kirkus Reviews (February 2013)

"When Stamp finds a girlfriend and suddenly becomes kind of obsessed with her, naturally, Maddy and Dane want to meet her. . . . They have always played it safe, but this girl is T.R.O.U.B.L.E. Just how far will they go for Stamp, and how far will this new girlfriend push them? Far more than I ever expected!" —www.UniquelyMoiBooks.com

"Zombies Don’t Forgive is a fun read that will be hard to put down for fans of original young adult fiction."  —Harriet Klausner, Midwest Book Review

Zombies Don’t Forgive is a snarky and funny story with action and zombie adventure.” —bibliophilicbookblog.com

Kirkus Reviews
The emphasis is on revenge rather than romance for teenage zombies struggling to keep the living part of living dead. Following the final battle of Zombies Don't Cry (2011), protagonist Maddy runs away from her hometown with fellow zombies (and love interests) serious Dane and ex-jock Stamp, hoping to avoid capture by the Sentinels, who enforce the zombie laws. They settle in Orlando, blending into the human world while earning their livings as monsters in a cheesy horror stage show. In the few, off-page weeks between novels, Maddy and Stamp break up--so for this story installment, the love triangle is replaced by Maddy and Dane's will-they-won't-they. As for Stamp, he seems to have moved on well and dates a long line of living girls, although he has to keep it casual in order to maintain their secret and avoid accidentally turning one of the girls undead. But when Stamp ends up getting serious with a girlfriend, Maddy and Dane pick up on serious red flags. The more they investigate the mysterious Val, the more they suspect there is something seriously wrong with her. Maddy and Dane find themselves in the cross hairs of a revenge plot while the Sentinels close in--until Maddy launches a daring revenge scheme of her own. The occasionally sloppy continuity doesn't detract from the fast plot and unexpected twists. Popcorn fun for the brain-munching set. (Horror. 14 & up)

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781605426365
Publisher:
Medallion Media Group
Publication date:
04/01/2013
Series:
A Living Dead Love Story Series, #2
Pages:
384
Sales rank:
1,009,589
Product dimensions:
4.90(w) x 7.90(h) x 1.00(d)
Lexile:
830L (what's this?)
Age Range:
12 Years

Read an Excerpt

Zombies Don't Forgive


By Rusty Fischer

Medallion Press

Copyright © 2013Rusty Fischer
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-60542-636-5


Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The Culturally Confused Convenience Store

The bodega across from our apartment complex isn't crowded this time of day. A Spanish love song plays on the radio, and incense burns in the corner shrine where a Buddha sits among oranges and bottled water.

The shelves are lined with dusty cans and exotic fruit drinks in funky bottles. The posters on the wall are these kind of funky ads from the 1960s for sodas that don't even exist anymore, like Raspberry Ripple and Orange Fizzy Bottom and Lovely Lime. They all sound kind of good right about now.

Stamp hates coming to The Culturally Confused Convenience Store, as he calls it. Dane doesn't like it much better, although he's pretty sure there are brains involved in some of the crazier canned items, like the braised beef chunks on Aisle 3 or even in the way, way, way off-brand cat food on Aisle 6.

I grab a soda from the clanking cooler in the back of the store, next to open cardboard boxes filled with onions and dirty potatoes. Gargantuan Grape. That's really its name. It has twice as much sugar as a regular grape soda and not just because it's twice as big. I take it to the cashier, this thin guy with a sweaty moustache and a fiery boil under one of his ears. He hands me a phone card without even asking, which is one of the reasons I try to never come in here with Dane. I'm afraid the cashier will do that in front of Dane and then? Game over; the jig will be up.

"Ten dollars on the card enough this time?" he says without much of an Asian accent. He's got on crisp new blue jeans and one of those button-down Cuban bowling shirts with a palm tree on the pocket. His black fedora looks heavy on his sweating head.

"That should do it," I say, just like every time. I pay in cash, as always, and drop the coins in the Leave a Penny, Take a Penny cup by the register. If anything, Dane's sense of hearing is better than mine—that's saying something—and he'd get suspicious if I came home jingling a ton of change.

The guy nods and turns back to his hot rod magazine.

I leave the store slowly, hand in pocket, feeling the plastic card there. I look across the street for signs of Dane. I kind of feel like Stamp with one of his girlfriends. What I'm doing isn't exactly illegal, but according to Dane it's not smart either. Still it has to be done, and what Dane doesn't know won't hurt him. I walk to the little ice cream stand on the corner.

It's old school, a little brown building with two windows and a huge plaster cone on top. It's so ancient there are actually pay phones—two of them—in a bank along the side wall. I take the farthest one. There's no door to hide behind, but honestly why would Dane walk by? I dig out the card and dial the code.

I call Dad's office phone, which is county-owned and I figure hard for the Sentinels to trace. He picks up on the second ring. "Cobia County Coroner's Office," he croaks. Despite wanting desperately to hear more of his voice, I hang up.

I lean against the wall, crack open my grape soda, and suck down a few gulps. The soda feels good on my tongue. I can feel the sugar working in my cells, filling them up. Sugar. It's the only human food we can still eat, probably because it's not food. It comes; it goes; that's it. But at least it helps me feel a little more human for the few minutes I sip it.

The phone rings. Finally. It always takes Dad awhile to fumble with one of the throwaway cell phones he buys each month, turn it on, make sure it's charged, and then find a safe spot to call me from. I put the soda down on the hot black pavement and answer on the second ring. Dad gives me his latest cell phone number and hangs up. Yeah, it's tiring, but when you're running from a lethal team of zombie-hunting Sentinels, you have to add a few steps to your routine.

I key in the code again, then Dad's number, and this time we're good.

"Maddy!" he gasps when we're finally connected. "How are you?"

It's only the fourth or fifth time we've talked, and it's still new for us both. "I'm good. How are you?"

"Still human. Last time I checked. And you?"

"Very funny, Dad."

He sounds good. I'm so used to grunting and groaning, it always takes me a few minutes to work harder and sound more alive for Dad. "They working you too hard these days?"

"Oh, you know." He sighs. "No more than usual. We're coming into spring break now, so I'm at the beach a lot. When will kids learn not to go swimming after dark?"

Spring break? God, this time last year it was me swimming after dark, taking a cue from my best friend, Hazel, and trying to fit a little fun in before we went back to school.

"But enough about work. How is my Maddy?"

"She's good. Safe. That's the important thing, right?"

"Yes, yes, it is. Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be."

"Well, you've got Stamp there, right?"

I smirk. Same Dad. Still on Team Stamp. "Yes, and Dane too, don't forget."

"How could I?"

I don't argue with him. We don't have enough time.

"Hey, I ran into Hazel's mother in the grocery store the other day."

"You did? How'd she look?"

His voice goes down a notch. "Not well, honey."

I frown. That's the worst part of being on the lam. Not the hiding, the low-paying jobs, the never going to college, or the constant fear. It's that I'll never be able to look Hazel's mom in the eye and tell her what really happened. Or at least something that might comfort her. I don't miss the heartbeat, the blood flow, the sweat. I miss the humanity.

"I brought her a casserole the other night," he says shyly.

"Wow, Dad, that's nice of you." I try to picture him, oven mitt on each hand, walking down the street to Hazel's house, knocking on the door with his knee, painting on a smile when it opened.

"It was just store bought. But I heated it up first."

"Still, I bet she appreciated that." I look at my watch. Six minutes left. "How about Stamp's family? Any word on where they might be now?"

There's a long pause. "I've tried tracking them down as well as I could, dear, but you told me not to arouse suspicion." He sounds frustrated and not just because he can't find Stamp's family.

"I know. You're right. It's better this way, maybe, if Stamp doesn't know where they've gone." "Don't be so sure. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't call me every month. Sometimes it's all I live for."

"Dad." I try not to sound too stern but fail. "Don't say that. What if ... what if the Sentinels catch me or the Zerkers? You can't count on this. It's ... it's a bonus, not a right."

His sigh is gravelly through the receiver of his cheap cell phone. "You start thinking like that and you might as well turn yourself in to the Sentinels tomorrow."

He's right, of course.

But so am I.

"When can I see you, dear?"

"We've been over this. Dane doesn't think it's a good idea."

"Fiddlesticks. When you left, you told me to wait a few months. It's been more than a few. How long?"

"It's still too dangerous. What if the Sentinels follow you? Or the Zerkers? It's not just about me being found. It's about you being ..."

He knows what I mean. What it means to be on the run from zombies who want to capture you and zombies who want to eat you.

"I can take care of myself, Maddy."

Finally, I chuckle. "I know you can. And speaking of the Sentinels ..." I hate to ask, but with only a few minutes left, I have to.

"They're still here, dear. They think I can't see them, but I can. Their stupid tan vans. You'd think they'd be more creative after doing this a few hundred years. Maybe they're on a budget. I don't know. But, yes, there's one outside my office right now. And another parked in the front drive at the neighbor's house while they're away on vacation. It's almost as if they want me to see them."

"They probably do. And that's what I mean: if you come after me, if I come to see you, they'll know it."

"Okay, okay. I get it. I just. I feel so helpless. Me here and you there in—see there, I almost said it. I guess I do have a little to learn about life on the lam, don't I?"

"Just a little."


(Continues...)


Excerpted from Zombies Don't Forgive by Rusty Fischer. Copyright © 2013 by Rusty Fischer. Excerpted by permission of Medallion Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author


Rusty Fischer is the author of "Dear Mouse," "Vamplayers," " "and "Zombies Don't Cry "and""has written for the educational magazines "Bookbag," "Learning," and the "Mailbox." His work has been featured in "Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul," "Seventeen," and "Stories for a Teen Heart." He lives in Cape Canaveral, Florida.

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