City of the Lost

City of the Lost

Stephen Blackmoore

Language: English

Pages: 149

ISBN: 0756407028

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Joe Sunday has been a Los Angeles low-life for years, but his life gets a whole lot lower when he is killed by the rival of his crime boss-only to return as a zombie. His only hope is to find and steal a talisman that he learns can grant immortality. But, unfortunately for Joe, every other undead thug and crime boss in Los Angeles is looking for the same thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the barrel through the hole in her skull and pop off another round. It blows through the front of the guy’s face, spraying their brains across the bed. She convulses and flops down hard onto the body of her dead pimp. Jesus fuck. Even Julio wasn’t this hard to slow down. The room’s a mess. I can’t risk the time to clean it up. I start to wrap them up in the bedsheets, thinking I can haul them out over my shoulder and get out fast. Then the pimp tries to sit up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” No way

out. I could use a fight right about now. No one shows up. So I do the next best thing; order an overpriced scotch at the bar. Chapter 10 “You can’t smoke in here,” the bartender says. She wipes down the bar, puts down my fourth scotch. I blow the smoke away from her. No reason to piss her off. She’s just doing her job. Besides, I can smell the tobacco on her, see the cigarette tucked behind her ear. “Yeah?” “State law.” “You don’t say.” She shakes her head, wipes her way back down

imaginary phone and waves me forward. We pass the desk clerk shaking at the telephone, as if wondering if his flesh is about to be torn off. I’d pay money to see that. She leads me to a dark oak door with leather paneling. They’re all watching me. None of them noticing her. The door is the only thing in this sordid room that looks even remotely clean. I don’t remember it from when I killed the Armenian. It’s placed wrong. If I’m doing the math right, this should open out onto the street. It

tracks.” “You’ve lost me.” “Making a person forget is easy if you do it over time. The house-cleaners in Bel Air probably had their memories chipped away at for a while. It doesn’t pull a lot of power out of the well, and nobody’s going to notice. But do it fast and for a strong recent memory? That takes a lot of juice.” “Somebody would have caught that?” I say. “Oh, hell, yeah. Not that they’d necessarily care. A lot of things pull that much power. It’s nothing like how much Giavetti’s been

the stone. Instead of coming at me directly, he’s trying to fucking intimidate me by hitting Carl. Goddammit. I don’t give in to guilt. Bad for business. Bad for a lot of things. I take a deep breath. I know it does nothing, but it still feels good to put air in my lungs. Fucking Giavetti. It isn’t enough I’m in this shit because of him, now he does this. Wants to send me a message, piss me off? He’s sure as shit done a thorough job. I’m cleaning blood off my hands in the lobby bathroom

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