Zombies Eat Lawyers by Kevin Michael, Lacy Maran Page B
Authors: Kevin Michael, Lacy Maran
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favorite tantrum artist having a meltdown over shower curtains on national television.
And then there was Patricia Travers. She checked her lottery ticket, hoping she'd hit the jackpot. Then she could finally afford the singles cruise she'd been saving up for the last six months. Not to mention she'd finally managed to take off five pounds on the Hoboken Beach Diet. That left her a mere thirty-five pounds from her goal weight.
The paralegals were every day women. The kind of cubicle dwellers that packed bag lunches and set Kitten calendars on their desks. But the days of watching funny animal videos were over.
The ladies all sprang to attention with Rebecca's shriek from reception. They scurried to her aid, but stopped in their tracks as they saw their old shark of a colleague Dave making a meal of her. A mailman and firefighter zombie had joined Dave in devouring Rebecca.
The ladies couldn't believe what they were seeing. One of their closest friends torn apart right in front of their eyes. The paralegals stomachs started to turn. They wanted to puke into the nearest trashcan, but instead stood in silence, too petrified of drawing the zombies attention.
The silence didn't last long though. As the paralegals slowly back tracked, the zombies caught wind of fresh meat, and set their sights on a blond buffet.
Shrieks rang out while the paralegals nearly tripped over each other fleeing from the undead masses. Patricia and Elaine started to dash towards the partners corner offices for cover while Leann discovered she'd picked a bad day to wear heels to work.
Leann tripped while trying to make her getaway, and found herself eating carpet.
Elaine was in too much of a terror frenzy to even notice Leann hit the deck, but Patricia turned back to aid her fallen co worker.
The zombies bared down on the paralegals while Patricia helped Leann to her feet.
As Zombie Dave lunged for Leann, Patricia grabbed a letter opener from an adjacent desk and plunged it deep into Dave's eye socket. Zombie Dave was stunned for a second, then kept plowing on, desperate for more brains.
With no more office products to use as weapons, Leann and Patricia retreated, joining Elaine pounding on one of the partners locked doors.
Elaine could see Samantha Stevens through the glass. Hell, she'd fetched a double decaf soy mocha for her just a few hours before. But Samantha wasn't about to unlock the door for her assistant. The irony of a lawyer that made a living out of championing underrepresented women hanging her own assistant out to dry was enough to make Elaine sick. Almost as sick as a criminal defense attorney who would defend Hitler for the right wad of cash holing up under his desk in the fetal position while three defenseless women stood exposed to a growing legion of brain hungry zombies.
The partners were a potpourri of litigation pet peeves. The Big Business Lackey, the Defense Attorney To The Stars, the Cease & Desist Shill, the Six Figure Settlement King. They were all sharks in the courtroom, but guppies in true times of crisis. Their eight hundred dollar custom cufflinks weren't going to save them. Nor were their snakeskin briefcases. More importantly, no one was going to save their souls. Not while they watched their underlings cling to life.
Chaos reigned on the floor. The court reporters and law clerks were rousted from their cubicle coma's by the commotion, only to be thrusted into danger.
Patricia, Elaine, and Leann tried to retreat into the ladies room as the ranks of zombies swelled. Leann opened the door to the restroom expecting refuge, but instead found a pair of their zombiefied co workers waiting for them.
Brock Foster was an personal injury shark that chased one too many ambulances. When he opened the back of a crashed EMT vehicle looking to land his next client, he instead found a paramedic being devoured by a gurney bound sports mascot. Brock tried to flee the scene, but had found himself easy pickings for a local mime
And then there was Patricia Travers. She checked her lottery ticket, hoping she'd hit the jackpot. Then she could finally afford the singles cruise she'd been saving up for the last six months. Not to mention she'd finally managed to take off five pounds on the Hoboken Beach Diet. That left her a mere thirty-five pounds from her goal weight.
The paralegals were every day women. The kind of cubicle dwellers that packed bag lunches and set Kitten calendars on their desks. But the days of watching funny animal videos were over.
The ladies all sprang to attention with Rebecca's shriek from reception. They scurried to her aid, but stopped in their tracks as they saw their old shark of a colleague Dave making a meal of her. A mailman and firefighter zombie had joined Dave in devouring Rebecca.
The ladies couldn't believe what they were seeing. One of their closest friends torn apart right in front of their eyes. The paralegals stomachs started to turn. They wanted to puke into the nearest trashcan, but instead stood in silence, too petrified of drawing the zombies attention.
The silence didn't last long though. As the paralegals slowly back tracked, the zombies caught wind of fresh meat, and set their sights on a blond buffet.
Shrieks rang out while the paralegals nearly tripped over each other fleeing from the undead masses. Patricia and Elaine started to dash towards the partners corner offices for cover while Leann discovered she'd picked a bad day to wear heels to work.
Leann tripped while trying to make her getaway, and found herself eating carpet.
Elaine was in too much of a terror frenzy to even notice Leann hit the deck, but Patricia turned back to aid her fallen co worker.
The zombies bared down on the paralegals while Patricia helped Leann to her feet.
As Zombie Dave lunged for Leann, Patricia grabbed a letter opener from an adjacent desk and plunged it deep into Dave's eye socket. Zombie Dave was stunned for a second, then kept plowing on, desperate for more brains.
With no more office products to use as weapons, Leann and Patricia retreated, joining Elaine pounding on one of the partners locked doors.
Elaine could see Samantha Stevens through the glass. Hell, she'd fetched a double decaf soy mocha for her just a few hours before. But Samantha wasn't about to unlock the door for her assistant. The irony of a lawyer that made a living out of championing underrepresented women hanging her own assistant out to dry was enough to make Elaine sick. Almost as sick as a criminal defense attorney who would defend Hitler for the right wad of cash holing up under his desk in the fetal position while three defenseless women stood exposed to a growing legion of brain hungry zombies.
The partners were a potpourri of litigation pet peeves. The Big Business Lackey, the Defense Attorney To The Stars, the Cease & Desist Shill, the Six Figure Settlement King. They were all sharks in the courtroom, but guppies in true times of crisis. Their eight hundred dollar custom cufflinks weren't going to save them. Nor were their snakeskin briefcases. More importantly, no one was going to save their souls. Not while they watched their underlings cling to life.
Chaos reigned on the floor. The court reporters and law clerks were rousted from their cubicle coma's by the commotion, only to be thrusted into danger.
Patricia, Elaine, and Leann tried to retreat into the ladies room as the ranks of zombies swelled. Leann opened the door to the restroom expecting refuge, but instead found a pair of their zombiefied co workers waiting for them.
Brock Foster was an personal injury shark that chased one too many ambulances. When he opened the back of a crashed EMT vehicle looking to land his next client, he instead found a paramedic being devoured by a gurney bound sports mascot. Brock tried to flee the scene, but had found himself easy pickings for a local mime
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