Free Cry Zombie Cry (I Zombie Book 5) by Jack Wallen Page B

into his chair.
    Standing sentinel beside the table was a stainless steel operating tray, which held an unused blood-drawing kit. From the kit, Gerand pulled the requisite rubber tube and tied it tight around his arm to draw up the veins. He sterilized the skin in the crook of his arm, removed the syringe from the sanitary packaging, and plunged the needle into his arm to do the deed.
    “ I have to know,” Gerand whispered, as blood filled the attached vial.
    A vice clamped down on his head. He dropped the syringe and wrapped his fingers around his skull. Instinct made him want desperately to force his head into the brick walls of the basement. Any moment, the sound would return and he would know his fate.
    Any…moment.
    The crushing head pain subsided. Again, he attempted to stand; again, his legs buckled underneath him.
    “ Son of a bitch!” he shouted, and slammed his fist to the table. When he looked back up, he caught sight of the camera.
    “ Come to me, oh teller of truth.” Gerand reached across the table to get a hand on the nearest tripod leg. The camera was out of reach. Again he stretched; again he failed. His eyes darted around to find something to help him out of the situation. He assumed the weakness in his legs would soon wear off.
    “ Fuck, I don’t want to wait for this. I have to know.”
    He spotted a rubber tourniquet used for blood drawing. He grabbed it and whipped it outward, toward the tripod leg. The rubber whip spun around the leg and took hold. With a gentle tug, the outfit came tumbling forward until the camera was in Gerand’s hands.
    “ Goddamn battery!”
    The camera in its current state was of no use. The SD card within, however, was. The video on the memory card would have all the proof he needed to convince her it was all very real and very true.
    Gerand pulled his laptop from the chair to his left and set it carefully on the table. He tapped in his ten-digit password and fired up his web browser.
    “ Zombie Radio dot org.”
    When the website opened, it offered up the promise it was the “Personal soundtrack to the end of the world.”
    “ Jesus, people will try to capitalize on anything these days,” Gerand spat.
    He knew, however, it was the only way to find her; and she was the only hope he had of making the public aware that a cure was in fact possible.
    “ …that’s right, Zombie Radio Nation, I have heard it all now. Steve-o asked the one question on everyone’s mind; is it okay to fall in love with one of the undead? Well, Steve—it’s okay if I call ya Steve, right?—no, it’s not. Why do I say that? Because I have what the masses would call a rational mind. That’s right, I said it; you, my friend, have crossed a line, okay? Ya know why? I’ll tell ya why, so make sure, Steve-o, you have your ear pressed tightly up against the speaker on your little radio. Here’s the why—because zombies are nothing but a gateway drug. Yah, I said it…a gateway drug. Next thing ya know, you’re wanting to bang vampires or Frankenstein’s monster. Or worse, you’re getting werewolves to blow you while you’re doing lines of coke off Igor’s hump. What hump, you say? This hump, jackass! Can you believe that, listeners? But seriously, if you’re even considering that a life with a zombie just might be for you, grab a pistol and give it the best hummer you can muster. And while you’re busy shining the knob of that weapon, pull the trigger. What other flavors of crazy have you for me, my lovelies? Why don’t you send me a tweet and let me know what’s going on? It’s always good to hear from my fellow survivors. You know where to reach me. In the meantime, how about a little song dedicated to our dear friend Steve-o? The song is by the Groovy Ghoulies and it’s called ‘Zombie Crush.’ Let’s get creepy!”
    The grunge-inspired, punk-riff song drizzled from the speakers of the laptop as Gerand decided it was finally time to take his work public. He opened up his