Assuming Room Temperature (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 3) (34 page)

BOOK: Assuming Room Temperature (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 3)
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The ninja-girl screamed in rage and denial as he streaked down, away from light and life and safety. She wanted to curse him for following her headlong into oblivion, but realized it would be pointless.

They were both going to die.

 

* * *

 

The wind of her passage sent Cho’s blue, pixie-cut hair flying in her face, drawing stinging tears from her eyes as the dam’s top receded quickly and Jake sped nearer. She realized then that she might at
least
be able to touch him before they hit bottom. The flood waters roared down unabated to her right, turning the stream below the falling pair into an angry torrent of mist. The waters seemingly fell far more slowly than she herself did, and she hated them for it. Hated the water for not knowing its doom—like hers—was fast approaching on the rocks below.

Kat had no time.
They
had no time. Not even the precious minute needed for her to tell Jake how she’d felt for so very, very long. She reached out for him vainly. His hand was so close. Only inches away. He sped towards her, arms outstretched as he plummeted uncaringly to his destruction in her wake.

Their fingers brushed together for the briefest of moments before Jacob O’Connor and Katherine Brightfeather Cho plunged into the flood-waters. The outlines of their forms tumbled, becoming indistinct until finally disappearing into the mists, unnoticed by the roiling torrent draining from the Lake of the Cherokees into the Neosho River.

And then they were gone.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

For over a decade, S.P. Durnin crisscrossed America seeking the perfect pint of Guinness, while developing a deep love/hate relationship with the idea of hungry, mobile corpses. Previously he was known to keep a morning after backpack in the trunk of his car for if he woke up in a strange place, but in recent years took the next logical step and upgraded to a Bug-Out-Bag.
Keep Your Crowbar Handy, Rotting To The Core,
and
Assuming Room Temperature
are the first novels set within his zombie-verse™.

 

S.P. resides in Ohio with his family, one (mutant) dog, and two (very spoiled) cats that he refers to as “the crazy, furry, stupid, little ninjas,” until the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

 

While this concludes book three, our survivors will return to fight the hungry dead—
and have their fates decided—
in the climactic, final novel of the series:
Death Tax.

 

 

 

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