Kill Zombies (Leopard King Saga) by Uner T.A

Author:Uner, T.A. [Uner, T.A.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: T.A. Uner
Published: 2013-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

Fifteen minutes later after Reptilius and Giselle had left. Holbourne broke out into a sweat. His hands were shaking uncontrollably; he was craving a cigarette. I cannot accept how they bloody don’t have cancer sticks in this damned reality.

Malcolm had taken his crocodile pet along with him, leaving Holbourne even more desperate for something, anything that could help take the edge off. What if those Vampire Zombies came back? Did he not even give a shit if he lived or died? He did leave a large crossbow on a dresser next to the entrance (or what was left of it) but somehow Holbourne did not feel at ease. He tore through the house like a tornado, pulling open drawers and cupboards. The place already looked like that had happened so there was no need to worry. “Doesn’t this wanker keep any alcohol in this mudhole?” he exclaimed.

He finally located what looked like a green wine bottle. He licked his lips greedily and took a swig, right before he was about to swallow he spit it out and nearly vomited. A greasy smell that reminded him of motor oil. He spit out slavers of fuming mucous saliva as his tongue burned like hell.

“What was that?” he collapsed to his knees and grasped his throat. He felt like he was going to die, and in a strange world on the other side of the planet. He headed toward what looked like a kitchen and began fumbling around, trying to find something to drink, he finally saw an orange bottle with a white label that read Southern Comfort. He figured it was some sort of yank drink and drank heartily. It had a strange taste, very spicy, but Holbourne felt he could get used to it. He drank. When he finally caught a buzz he started feeling better. A stroke of luck lead him to a closet where a brown box was filled with three more bottles. Holbourne took another and drank deeply.

Thirty minutes later he vomited, heavy-headed, he swore he never felt better.

The first time he realized that he was a boozer was when he crashed his Vauxhall on his way home from work. It was a Thursday night and he had worked late. Till 11P.M. A quick stop off at the closest pub yielded four pints of bitter and two shots of tequila. Some green-headed bar wench had offered the shots for free and he wasn’t one to turn down free tequila. No-sir-reeee! He wobbled back to his car like a goose and dropped his keyless entry unit half a dozen times before he knew he was piss raging drunk. He couldn’t smell the booze on him but he felt in on him. After twenty minutes of searching he found the keyless entry a half meter from his left ankle. After sleeping some of the drink off he vomited on the floor mat and cursed. Well, at least they were all-season mats so cleaning them wouldn’t be too difficult.

After starting his

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