Hi Folks! I hope you enjoy this teaser from my upcoming novel, Eat Your Green. You can read more of my work at My Patreon.
“Fine. I guess I’ll be seeing you—” Mina pulled out her schedule, rumpling it even more so it was more tatters than paper. “Friday.”
His voice was bored. “Or not. Derek and I might be golfing.”
“I’m riveted.” Mina shoved the schedule back into her pocket. “Why don’t you step on a lego while you’re at it?”
She went to leave, to slam the door behind her, but then her eyes lingered on the golf club set leaning against the wall. “Just going to borrow this real quick, hope you don’t mind.” She grabbed the head of the largest one, appreciating the heft of it, before she dodged their outstretched hands and slipped out the door, sprinting fast as she could down the hall and through the doors marked exit in neon green.
Good luck golfing now big guy.
She twirled the club like a baton as she walked down the street, seething with rage. She should rejoin her friends, make sure they were okay, or she should stay here, wait for Derek, follow him home, and kill him like she’d been taught in every zombie movie she’d ever watched.
She could do this, she told herself. She had to before somebody else got hurt. It wasn’t murder if he was already dead.
Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she went to what had once been his home and waited for him to come home—well, what had been his place of residence at the time of his death. She figured he would return to where he had once lived upon rising from the grave.
Was the absence of cicadas enough reason to cause a sense of aspersion and suspicion on the house? They had been singing and chirping and strumming their wings all summer and yet not a single bug barded their way through the long hours of the evening. She waited for Derek to come home until she fell asleep and woke up to Derek Johnson nudging her in the ribs with his crumbling, moldering boot.
“That club for me?”
Mina stumbled away from her, clutching the club to her chest. “You going to take it away from me? I feel like that’s your thing, just taking things.”
Derek laughed, a grotesque action considering his throat was half rotten out. Mina cringed away from him. Her palms were slick and sweaty with her death-grip on the club. In her head, she’d imagined coming up from behind. Not face to face. Not giving him a chance to talk to her like he was an actual person. She stepped away from him, and true to form, he just took another step and a half towards her. “So what did you do to the people who bought the house on the occasion of your death?” Derek shrugged. “I bet you ate them, just like you were going to eat my friend.”
“I’m a hungry man,” Derek said. “We all need to eat. At least I don’t steal the dregs from the chicken fryer.” He tsked what remained of his tongue, his finger wagging at her. “That’s against policy and I could have you fired for theft.”
She rolled her eyes. He wasn’t even in management. Yet. “At least I’m not hurting other people.”
“Just a profit margin, but you prob’ly don’t care about things like that. That’s prob’ly why you’re so poor. Math just goes over your head like—” He mis-estimated his swooping gesture and bits of his scalp stuck to his dirt crusted watch. “So I do what I need to do. That’s why I’m still here, even back from the dead. What have you accomplished?”
“You’re already dead. It’s not like you’re going to starve to death.”
He gestured at the golf club in her hands. “If you have the moral high ground, then you wouldn’t have brought that.”
Mina opened her mouth to reply, then shut up. She knew better than to get caught up debating douche-bags like Derek, who thought philosophy and playing devil’s advocate was more important than the lives they were all actually supposed to be living.
Derek laughed derisively. “See, you can’t even prove what you believe. Bye, Mina. See you Friday. Maybe.” He turned away from her to walk up the concrete path to the house that had once been his.
Mina tightened her grip on the golf club, and swung it hard against Derek Johnson’s halfway rotted skull. He pitched forward and dropped face first into the sidewalk. Heaving the blood splattered club to her shoulder, she walked towards where his corpse twitched, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the pavement. “Guess I didn’t hit you hard enough. It’s my first time, so I understand if there’s room for improvement.” She shifted her feet like Valerie had once showed her how to line up to a tee. “Fore!” The club whooshed down low.