Welcome to the Zombie Mill: Book Two in the Silvercrest Experiment Series by Albert Aykler

Author:Albert Aykler [Aykler, Albert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734290721
Publisher: Love & Wander
Published: 2020-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

Did Rani say “Miscreant Pineapples?” Did I add the pineapples? With a mind compromised from amnesia and zombie trauma, I have little faith in my senses. Why would she say that? But why would my mind add pineapples?

Maybe I have a metaphor habit. Pointy sharp things on the outside with a sweet heart, but tough throughout. Sounded like those kids to me.

I realized, as I turned the car around to head back the way we came, that I had no clue about Rani, not in any way that mattered. She had loved me once, I think. But did not much like me now. And in the thick of things, she revealed otherwise well-hidden vestiges of something I had to call respect and a raft of expectations of something better from me. Something better than turning tail.

“You like her,” Myra observed from the back seat.

“She saved my life.”

“She definitely likes you.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, she does.”

“Is that why she’s always calling me an asshole?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of world do you come from?”

“This one.”

“Well, that explains a few things. You might be right. I can’t figure her out and I don’t have a clue about myself either.”

“I know who you are.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“You’re Number One Zombie Killer.” The name came from Myra’s Samurai Anime world of clearly labeled identities. I could hear the relevant dialog in those deep, gruff voices they always use to dub those movies.

Who is this man? the Yakuza boss asks.

Number One.

Number One?

Number One Zombie Killer. The subordinate’s eyes flash and in them a memory of a zombie head exploding as a baseball bat swings through it. An anguished version of my face appears as the head disappears in a bloody rainstorm of blood and gore.

Make him ours.

Ours?

Or he dies.

Yes sir.

Feed the koi in the pond.

And the screen goes black to signal the dire seriousness of this final statement, laden as it is with hidden meaning.

“How do you figure?” I asked her.

“Your arm is already almost healed.”

I looked at it. The skin had grown closed, though I could still see the bite marks under the dried blood. “That’s me.”

The Rattlesnake Mobile engine screeched and hiccuped through the alley. I wanted to steer it through the gap in the piles of timber and into the lumber yard, but it didn’t sound or feel like it would make it.

“Why did she call them pineapples?”

I felt relieved I had not imagined these pineapples. I wondered if the pineapple thing was some kind of verbal tic of Rani’s. “You got me, Myra, but I think it’s a good thing.”

And the Rattlesnake Mobile engine died halfway out of the alley and into the street. “Dammit.” I put it in neutral. We coasted across the street but stopped ten feet before the first timber pile.

“Was it the soda?”

“I think so.”

I tried pumping the gas and starting it. Almost. One more try and it turned over. And then it died for good.

“What do we do now?”

“I want to get it over there.” I pointed to the lumber yard.

“Oh.”

“Have you ever driven?”

“Sort of.

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