The Book of Final Flesh by James Lowder

Author:James Lowder [Lowder, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781891153785
Publisher: Eden Studios
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Martin Larribee puffed on his pipe for a moment before answering. “One of the walking dead. One who has risen from the grave to shamble about in a grotesque, twisted mockery of life.”

Hallam thought about that. If he hadn’t already known that Larribee was a writer, he would have been able to tell it from the way the Englishman talked. Finally he shook his head and said, “Nothin’ dead can get up and walk around again. It ain’t natural.”

From where she sat in a comfortable armchair near the fireplace on the other side of the crowded living room in Larribee’s Hollywood apartment, Eliza Dutton laughed. “Now you understand, Mr. Hallam. It certainly isn’t natural.” She and Larribee made a pretty odd pair. The Englishman was short and stocky, with sandy hair and a drooping mustache. Eliza Dutton was tall and slender and darkly beautiful.

Hallam had seen her around ever since she’d arrived in town a few years earlier, in ’25. Her name then had been Gertrude Something-or-other. Hallam had never heard anything else about her background. But she had gone from bit parts to ingenues to second leads in a hurry, and now she had a couple of leading roles to her credit.

Hallam rubbed his jaw, feeling the two days’ worth of stubble. Since he’d known he would be working today, he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. “I just don’t know if I can do you any good, Mr. Larribee.”

“Because you don’t believe that zombies exist? Look at yourself, Mr. Hallam. Aren’t you a creature of myth?” Hallam glanced down at his outfit. It was true that not many folks wore fringed buckskins these days, or packed a long-barreled Colt .45 in a tied-down holster, along with a sheathed Bowie knife on the other hip, or looked at the world from under the broad brim of a high-crowned brown Stetson.

But there was nothing mythological about any of it. The costume department at the studio didn’t have to come up with anything for him to wear when he was working on a picture.

These duds were the real thing. He’d owned them for years.

250

L. J. WASHBURN

“Cowboys are real,” he said. “I reckon I’ll have to take your word on it for zombies, Mr. Larribee, ’cause I ain’t never seen one. Hope I never do.”

Larribee took his pipe out of his mouth and wearily scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wish I could say the same about never seeing one, I honestly wish I could. But I have seen them, Mr. Hallam. I know they exist.” The Englishman raised his head and met Hallam’s eyes squarely. “I know because they want to kill me and eat my flesh.” Yep, thought Hallam, this fella has definitely been into the loco weed.

Larribee put out a hand. There was a hint of desperation in his manner. “Please, Mr. Hallam, hear me out. I know that you sometimes work as a . . . a private inquiry agent—”

“Private detective.”

“Yes, of course. A private detective. And to put it in simple terms, someone is trying to kill me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.