Zombies vs. Robots
I was originally just going to do an excerpt, but then this
thought occurred to me. A random thought really. It was while I was talking
with my sister and best friend at dinner, before we headed to the movies. Of
course they thought I was absolutely
insane, but I think it’s a logical and very feasible theory. Zombies versus
Robots. Which apocalypse will happen? Will the undead rise up or will robots
over throw us?
I’ve begun to wonder if the zombie apocalypse is indeed on
its way. Perhaps not the dead clawing their way from their graves, but a
virus-based zombie. And it’s all beginning in the south, the wonderful sunshine
state of Florida. There have been two cases of human consumption, all based off
of “bath salt” drug-induced delirium. Coincidence? I think not!
(Government conspiracy)
Or it’s just my over active imagination running ramped. I have begun the starting process of editing a new manuscript for a zombie apocalypse novel (release TBA). So maybe my mind is just a little zombie-crazy right now.
Or it’s just my over active imagination running ramped. I have begun the starting process of editing a new manuscript for a zombie apocalypse novel (release TBA). So maybe my mind is just a little zombie-crazy right now.
Maybe it won’t even be zombies. We’ve begun to rely heavily
on technology. You can’t turn anywhere without seeing at least one person on
their phone.
A zombie vs. robot showdown?
I’m for the zombies. I think they’d be harder to destroy. With robots we can just call on Will Smith and Bruce Willis.
Really, I’m probably just crazy and this is the random driveling of a writer who’s spent way too much time in the fantasy world. But still, it would be interesting to see everyone weigh in. How do you think (maybe prefer?) to see the apocalypse go down? Does everyone have their zombie survival plan in order? Weapons preset? Gear ready? Everyone brushing up on their hacker skills and mapping out escape routes?
I’m for the zombies. I think they’d be harder to destroy. With robots we can just call on Will Smith and Bruce Willis.
Really, I’m probably just crazy and this is the random driveling of a writer who’s spent way too much time in the fantasy world. But still, it would be interesting to see everyone weigh in. How do you think (maybe prefer?) to see the apocalypse go down? Does everyone have their zombie survival plan in order? Weapons preset? Gear ready? Everyone brushing up on their hacker skills and mapping out escape routes?
You might want to double check your iPhone, you never know
what Siri might be up to.
I really need to stop writing end of the world scenarios.
You can check out some of them in my series the Theo Bourne Series.
Lay on me your survival plans and theories and enter in for a chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card. Just drop your e-mail down with survival plan/theory and I'll select a winner Monday the 9th.
EXCERPT FROM THE HUNTING MOON
I had been watching him half the night from the corner of my eye. He seemed to dominate the club with his presence, and I knew I wasn’t the only one watching him. I also knew that I was going to be the one to get him tonight.
Some people call it gaydar, though I don’t believe in that -- I just call it good instincts. It also helped that he had been watching me under the veil of his long lashes.
I wasn’t looking for love -- hell, I don’t believe in love. I believe in quick fucks and one-night stands. And tonight he was going to be my conquest. From the way his glare met my stare, I knew I was going to be his too. I took a long swig of my beer, numbing my tongue just a little more. I was working on my third bottle, and tonight I had no plans of slowing down. If I was going to be back in the shit hole known as Columbus, Ohio, then I was going to be drunk facing it. I had left Columbus in pursuit of a career with the NYPD Preternatural Task Force. I had succeeded until six months ago, when my partner was killed on the job by a deranged lycanthrope. Now, after seven years of avoiding this place, I was back.
And this dark Adonis was going to make me forget why I had returned. I finished the last of my beer and set the empty bottle on top of the bar. He tipped his head to the side, his hair spilling back to reveal the sharp contours and angles of his face. His skin, when the light played across it, was a rich burnt caramel that left my mouth watering. The gray graphic tee he had on was straining against the hard muscles of his chest and broad shoulders.
I walked around the side of the dance floor, following the row of booths that wrapped around to the back of the club. He glanced up at me, and my fingers itched to brush away the silken tresses that fell into his long face. His full lips parted into a quick smile, and hunger churned in the pit of my stomach. This was a game I was very familiar with -- one that I was fond of.
“Hey.”
His voice was like liquid silk pouring over my skin and wrapping around my body, caressing every intimate part of me, and it held the faintest Spanish accent. My eyelids lowered in a hooded glance, and my lips twitched into a smile that was pouting and promising. I wasn’t giving him the option to back away. “Dance with me.”
Amusement lit up his dark eyes, but he didn’t protest. He stood up, towering over me by a good four inches -- and that was saying something, since I was six feet even. I slid my hand up his chest, and my fingers played over the silver designs of his graphic tee before fisting in the cotton fabric. I pulled him with me as I walked backward onto the dance floor. I didn’t look to see if people moved. I made them move, nudging them with my mind and guiding them away from the middle of the dance floor. My gaze never left his, and he didn’t seem interested in anyone around us either.
Large hands found my hips, and our bodies began to move as one, naturally. I rocked my hips into his, relaxed my grip on his shirt slightly, and coiled my other arm around his neck. His hair, which had to be well past his shoulders, spilled over and tickled the exposed skin of my arms.
The song pounded in my ears, and I couldn’t tell you what the lyrics were. I was hypnotized by his eyes; it was like staring into the eyes of a wild dog. They flashed with feral intensity, their chocolate color swirling with blinding deep golden yellow, like smoky topaz. He nudged his hips forward, rolling them so that his hard-on brushed against mine. A shock ran through me, and my breath came out in a stuttered gasp, earning a broader grin from him. He repeated the motion, and my grip grew tighter around his neck and shirt, pulling him closer to my body.
His hands spread up my back, massaging the tight muscles in my shoulders. My cock was straining in my Diesel jeans, chafing against the zipper. I let out a low growl, grinding harder against him in a vague suggestion of what was to come. He didn’t seem to need any further invitation. His mouth sealed over mine, his tongue pressing past the barrier of my lips. I opened my mouth wide, and it became all about tasting and feeling. He tasted of beer and cinnamon gum.
When I broke away for air, I met his eyes. They burned with the same hunger that I felt. I turned around before he could come in for another kiss, pressed my ass against him, and shook my hips.
He grabbed my hips again, his grip hard and demanding. I could just imagine his hands running up my body, pulling and guiding me as he drilled into me from behind. I closed my eyes with a flutter of lashes and arched, letting my hands tangle in the soft mess of his hair. It ran through my fingers smoothly, and I knew I could spend hours just stroking his hair.
“So what’s your name?” I shouted over the music.
His lips brushed my right ear, his tongue flicking out to nudge the silver hoop I had in. His hands wrapped around my waist to my stomach and traced the hard muscles of my abs through the black material of my T-shirt.
“Carlos,” he said in a low growl.
The song changed, but I didn’t know what to. All I could hear, all I could feel, was the sound of Carlos’s breathing as he tempted my body with his long fingers. I tightened my hold on his hair and pulled his head down, craning my neck so I could turn and kiss him. He rolled his hips at the gesture and eagerly sucked in my tongue.
Much more of this, and I was going to come in my jeans, right there on the dance floor. I released his hair, letting it whisper past my fingertips. With another promising smile I asked, “Your place or mine?”
He embraced me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me to secure my body. His lips branded my neck in a slow kiss, and I felt a quake run through me.
“Mine.”
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