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Home
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by Isabelle
For
Writers
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opening to Slaves of the
Undead, sequel to Undone by the Undead
Hayden Thomas burst out of the Boston Public Library and charged
face-first into the storm. Shit. Snowmaggeddeon--Boston’s worst snow
storm in a century. He’d almost forgotten it. But there it was, swirling
and blowing in a fierce, icy blast that pretty much had the whole city
at a standstill. The December snow was heavy and deep, covering doorways
and blocking windows. Smart people were at home, safely waiting for the
city’s snowplows and salt trucks to take care of the mess in the streets
and on the sidewalks. Hayden wasn’t smart like that. He was motivated.
Or desperate. Why else would he have been digging through the library
shelves for long-forgotten books about zombies while a blizzard raged
outside?
A nasty blast of wind whipped past, filling his nose with giant flakes
and blinding him. He slipped on his gloves to wipe his eyes and then
hitched up his backpack and tightened the front strap. No way in hell
was he losing his laptop to a gust of wind. No laptop, no job. No job,
no money. Hayden could deal with unpaid bills, but he was Hayden
Buchanan Thomas--wonder kid--he could not deal with being unemployed.
Being a reporter for the Boston Weekly, Bob Keeler’s ridiculous tabloid,
was causing him enough grief. Dodging questions at parties about what he
was doing now that he was out of grad school and making up explanations
to silence his Boston College cohorts was getting to be a full time
hassle.
After wrapping his itchy black wool scarf tightly around his neck,
Hayden took the first careful step. Thick, wet snow sagged until his
boot finally hit the concrete. Three slow, leaping strides later, he
reached the landing of the low steps that led to Dartmouth Street, snow
covered and silent. Moving one leg at a time, he made his way to the
bottom, then continued in the direction of the Copley T Station at the
corner of Dartmouth and Boylston. Once there, he paused, using his hand
to shield his eyes. But there was nothing clearly visible on the
horizon, only the blurry outlines of buildings obscured by endless snow.
Not a single living person was out on the streets. Once he got back to
the apartment where he was staying, he planned to stay put and wait the
storm out, too. Judging by the sexy insistence in Rachelle’s voice when
she informed him she was coming over, he was going to be at her mercy
the whole time. At first he’d been anxious about hooking up with a
neighbor, but now he was really beginning to see the advantage to having
her right next door. A hot flush washed over him, chasing away a sliver
of the monstrous chill following him down the hushed street. He smiled
beneath the scratchy wool. Letting her have her way with him was the
least he could do, considering what she’d just seen posted on the
internet. Especially considering she didn’t know the truth behind the
pictures. He trudged ahead, blinking when his lashes got too coated to
see. What exactly was the truth, anyway?
Damn if he knew.
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