Zombie Chick by L. A. McGarvey

Author:L. A. McGarvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: zombie, mystery, humour
Publisher: Trouble Twins Publishing
Published: 2021-09-21T00:00:00+00:00

Observation Booth

"What’s your bet on Ned? Ten minutes? Really? Ten minutes, that’s it? I’m betting he makes it all the way. I’m putting my money on the Dark Horse.”

Fight Club

Officer Pier Docklund took his squad car to the abandoned restaurant where the illegal fight club had been meeting before the sting operation had broken it up. He wasn’t sure what drew him there, but he was looking at the world with a different perspective since he’d met the ZHPTF Agents.

He got out of the car and stood there, arms resting on the top of the door, fingers idly tapping the car, just observing. The place looked even more run-down than it had a few months ago. He slammed the door shut and approached the building’s main entrance.

It was a small place. At one time, it had been a busy place, selling burgers, ice cream, and been famous for the amazing Sunday brunch. The owners had no children, and the business died when they did. No one wanted to go to small diners anymore, only major chain franchises, it seemed.

He pushed the broken door open. The old bell chiming merrily at odds with the dereliction of the place. A streamer of old police tape fluttered in the slight breeze. He stood there for a few minutes, looking around, letting his eyes scan the place. He walked over to the counter, not sure what he was hoping to see.

There was nothing there. The smashed antique register still sat on the counter, the same as it had been before the raid. He made his way behind the counter and on through the kitchen, inspecting that room as he made his way to the basement door.

He went down the creaking steps, flashlight in hand. Sunlight shone in through the old, dusty, tiny windows. The fighting had taken place down here, in the fair-sized storage room. There were still a few restaurant supplies lying on the floor. The smell of caramel wafted to him from an open can of butterscotch sauce. Raccoon tracks surrounded the can, footprints leading back up the stairs.

He knew the police department had only conducted a summary search of the premises. The primary concern had been to break up the illegal fighting and gambling to prevent more of the serious injuries from occurring. Public Safety and saving taxpayers’ money from lengthy hospital stays had been the goal. They hadn’t been looking for anything especially nefarious. It was good old-fashioned Port Metro, after all.

He shone his flashlight around for a while, poking casually into the nooks and crannies of the storeroom. The centre area had been cleared of shelving for the fight ring and people, mainly men, had stood around the perimeter to watch. By necessity, the crowd had been small, generally only a dozen spectators at a time.

He was about to give it up for a fool’s errand when his light caught a flash of white under a collapsed shelving unit. He bent down to inspect it. Using a pair of tweezers he normally used for first aid, he pulled out a business card.

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