Why Glenn shouldn't Die in The Walking Dead

Don't let it be Glenn

We've waited such a long time after being left in heartbreaking limbo over what's been a very long summer.

Will Glenn be the one to die like he does in the comics at the end of Negan's bat Lucille?

If you're asking me, the last thing I want is the TV show to follow the comics.

For one thing, it makes it too predictable and I want to be surprised.

Killing off such a major character as Glenn would be a death too far. Tyreeses's death in the show was pointless apart from letting someone direct a Tarrantino-esque episode. 

Tyreese - killed too soon? 

The show simply doesn't have enough major characters to lose Glenn, one of say only half a dozen characters that could have a stand alone episode and keep you interested. Apart from flashes from Aaron, the Alexandrians have been a boring, whining, inspid lot. 


When Rick's new squeeze and her two kids died, did we care? 

Glenn feel like he's the one person on the show who represents us. Maybe it's because we've been with him from the beginning.

From the minute the former pizza delivery boy arrived on the scene and saved Rick Grimes. To the moment he finally had to break his code of having never killed a human being at one of Negan's outposts.

So, who should Negan kill?

I love horror movies, so this is how I'd like things to go -

Negan swings his baseball bat like a pantomime villain and aims it at the man he perceives as the biggest physical threat.

Someone who glares him down whilst everybody watches on helplessly or looks away.

Somebody who doesn't quiver in fear.

That man's Abraham.

The shock of what's happening makes Maggie go into premature labour.

The baby comes out stillborn and starts to eat her. After the first bite, Maggie's fate is sealed.

Meet Maggie's baby 

As everybody watches on in horror, Negan merely smiles. When you're a sociopath and kill without any regret or emotion, watching a zombie baby eat it's mom ain't that shocking.

How would that change The Walking Dead universe?

1. It could mean that since the outbreak most babies cannot be born safely. Lori was okay because she might have become pregnant by Shane/Rick before the outbreak.

2. With Maggie gone, Glenn would have to find a way to carry on. Would he turn to the dark side? I sure hope so. It'd give us a chance to see another side to him.

3. Carol would come back in full psycho killer mode, something I hope she will do when she hears about what Negan did and how he steals men's partners and forces them to sleep with him in exchange for food (that's if his character follows the comic).

4. Morgan would need to realise his "All life is precious" mantra should be "Some life is precious and the other kind needs a bullet to the head." We could get to see more of that stick action.

So, what do you think folks, how would you like to see The Walking Dead premiere go? 

Get the Crime Files box set for 99c or 99p (Limited offer)

For a short time only, the Crime Files box set featuring the first 3 books (Hell To Pay, Throwaways and Don't Come for Me) is just 99cents on Amazon.com

and 99p on Amazon.co.uk

A bit about the box set 

HELL TO PAY - BOOK #1

Nancy Kerr refuses to be a victim—even when she walks in on her parents’ killers and is raped and left for dead…

Fourteen months later, Nancy wakes up in a psychiatric hospital with no knowledge of how she got there.

Slowly, her memory starts to return.

Released from the institution, she has just one thing on her mind—two men brought hell to her family home.

Now they’re in for some hell of their own…

THROWAWAYS - BOOK #2

Huddled in a doorway, in a blonde wig, and my best Pretty Woman outfit, I'm already soaked to the skin. As downward spirals go, this was bad.

But I wasn’t here because I was reduced to turning tricks for a living. I was here to catch a killer…

Throwaways.

That's the word they're using for the four Glasgow sex workers who've gone missing. But two people do care.

When Suzy Henderson was found dead in a landfill site, her eyes pecked out by crows, they found the finger of another missing woman wedged in her throat.

Nancy Kerr and Tommy McIntyre are on the case and they won’t stop until they find the missing women.

But, how can they trust anyone when they can’t even trust each other?

DON'T COME FOR ME - BOOK #3

What if you were charged with your boyfriend’s murder, but you knew he wasn’t even dead?

That's the position rape survivor Nancy Kerr finds herself in. Now, she faces a race against time to find Tommy before she’s convicted of his murder.

But, someone doesn’t want her or Tommy’s Special Forces buddy, Eric from finding out the truth.

And getting too close could get them killed.

An extract from Vile City and what made me write the crime thriller

Vile City tells the story of abducted Shelley Craig and DI Duncan Waddell's attempts to find her.

The inspiration for Vile City 

The idea for Vile City came to me one day when I was walking through Glasgow city centre. In my mind's eye, I could see a young woman walking with her boyfriend. He's caught short and goes down an alleyway to relieve himself. 

When he hasn't returned after five minutes, the young woman goes looking for him. 

She sees him lying on the pavement as though he's fallen and leans down to check if he's okay. That's when a figure appears and grabs her and injects her with something.

It was trying to figure out why that would happen that Vile City came about. 
Who was this woman? 
What was going to happen to her?
Has she been targeted or was she simply unlucky? 
Would she live to tell the tale? 

I kept asking all these questions and like anybody would, I wanted answers.

I hope you'll be as interested to find out the answers as I was. Hey, I'm nosy like that:)

Yay, publication! 

It's been a long, long path to publication for Vile City. At one stage I was convinced the book would never see the light of day.

Yet in 2011 when I won the Scottish Association of Writers Pitlochry Quaich for a first crime novel, I thought it would help me win a publishing contract or an agent or both. I came close a few times.

One top publisher loved it, then turned round and said there were too many Scottish crime novels. Another only wanted to publish it as an eBook. But I love real, physical books. The feel and smell of them, so I turned down the contract offer.

Thankfully, Caffeine Nights came along and I was delighted. They write the kind of books I love to read and publish one of my favourite authors Shaun Hutson.

Vile City will be published in 2017. Stay tuned for the exact date.

Meanwhile, here's a sneak peek - 

Chapter 1

Stuart was hiding something. Shelley could tell. She was always the one who'd had to wake him because he could always block out the shrill of the alarm clock, but these days he was up before her, grabbing the mail whilst she slept. And, he’d started making breakfast – nothing much, just tea and toast, but that was more than he’d ever made her in their two and a bit years together.

When she'd calmly ask him if anything was wrong, he’d shrug his shoulders, give her a wee smile and say everything was fine. But, she knew he was lying because his face went even paler, making his freckles stand out as if they'd been drawn in by a kid with a coloured pencil. She never pushed it, maybe because deep down she was worried that he’d tell her he’d met someone else.

The No.76 bus was empty when they clambered onboard - one of the benefits of working until 11 at night in a call centre, was that there was no need to scoot past a sea of legs and become a contortionist to get on and off a bus.

Their cold breath filled the air with ghosts as they walked towards Waterstone’s, Shelley pausing to take a peek at the new crime fiction releases showcased in the illuminated windows, whilst Stuart fidgeted with his watch. He was always footering about with something since he’d given up cigarettes and it drove her mad, but at least it didn’t fill his lungs with tar and make the house smell like an overflowing ashtray.

“I need to have a pee,” he announced, as they came to the dimly lit lane off Mitchell Street that reeked of eau de Glasgow: decomposing takeaway, urine and other bodily fluids.

She groaned. “Can't you wait until we get home, Stuart?” She knew she’d pronounced his name “Stew-art” as she always did when she was annoyed with him, but she couldn’t help it. What made men think it was okay to urinate in public?

Stuart looked pained. “Sorry, I can’t. Too much coffee tonight.”

She let him walk on ahead of her and whilst he scooted down the alley, she stood outside the amusement arcade, pretending to look in so she wouldn’t be mistaken as a prostitute. Around here, at this time of night, unaccompanied women were likely to be mistaken for prostitutes. It'd happened to her once when she'd got off the bus alone. Stuart hadn't been working that night.

Five minutes later, she was so cold she couldn't feel her nose and Stuart still wasn’t back.

She turned the corner to look for him, fully expecting to see him ambling back towards her with that jaunty walk that always made her smile. But, he wasn't there.

Where was he?

Anger welled up in her chest. Had he started smoking again? He swore he wouldn't.

There was one way to find out.

She headed down the alley. The sole light was provided from some nearby buildings so visibility was poor.

She’d walked a few steps when she spotted a bundle of rags on the ground. Was someone sleeping there?

She moved closer. Squinting into the dim light, she realised it was Stuart. He was lying motionless on the ground. He must have tripped and knocked himself out after hitting the concrete.

She ran over to him, calling out his name, the squeezing in her chest waning slightly when she knelt down and heard him groan.

She pulled her mobile phone from her bag to call for an ambulance.

She didn’t make it to the third digit. A gloved hand clamped across her mouth and nose, cutting off her airways and the phone fell from her grasp, clattering onto the cobbles. Terror gripped her and she couldn’t breathe.

As she struggled, her assailant pressed his mouth to her ear. He was so close that it occurred to her that if anyone saw them they would think he was her boyfriend whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

“Your man’s been given a strong sedative. He’ll wake up with a sore head and nothing more. But, if you scream, I’ll kick him several times in the head and he’ll never get up again. Do you understand?”

She didn’t recognise the voice, but there was an accent. Not from around here. His voice was cold and emotionless.

She nodded under his hand. Then she did something he didn't expect: she back-heeled him in the groin.

There was a satisfying yelp as he released her.

She ran, arms pumping away like Usain Bolt’s, down towards the café at the end of the alley and safety.

She'd almost made it when he grabbed her arm and hauled her back. An electric shock shot from her elbow to her shoulder as she pulled herself free. He was too strong.

She could offer little resistance as he dragged her towards him.

Before she could scream, he punched her fully in the face and she went down with a thud jarring every bone in her body, momentarily stunning her.

As she fought to get up, he punched her in the back and she fell again.

The last thing she saw was the pavement rushing towards her before she blacked out...
TO BE CONTINUED...

My name is Jennifer Lee Thomson and I'm agoraphobic

From the age of 11, I was bullied mercilessly at school and in the small village where I lived. I couldn't go anywhere without getting targeted.

I'd get spat at, pushed and shoved by one boy who was two stone heavier than me and who was a trained boxer and a neighbour who'd once been a friend marched up to me on the bus and spat "You're ugly," in my face as other kids howled with laughter. Well, you'd better laugh so you won't be the target of the bullies.

I had no idea what I'd done to merit this treatment. Even today, I still haven't answered the question why? That's when my agoraphobia (also known as social anxiety disorder) began.

It made me terrified to go out. Outside my home. To school.

By the age of 13, I was hiding pills under my bed with the intention of swallowing the lot.

My writing was the only thing that gave me confidence and that's what stopped me from taking an overdose.

Ever since I was a little kid, I'd been a writer scribbling away on notepads, writing wee stories. I sold my first piece to Bunty comic when I was 13, then sales of short stories to Jackie magazine followed.

My agoraphobia didn't ease and even simple things like going to the shops were a nightmare. The only way to beat it was by going with someone else. I tried various jobs and they didn't last - I was too jumpy and nervous. It's just as well I've always make some money out of writing magazine articles.

My agoraphobia is so bad that when I won the Scottish Association of Writers' Award for my crime novel Vile City in 2011 LINK my social phobias were so bad that I couldn't attend the ceremony. It'd have been a boost for my writing career as there were some great authors in attendance as well as literary agents and publishers.

It wasn't always that way. Once upon a time I was a confident kid - maybe a bit too confident as I once told my teacher that my answer to a question was right and she was wrong. In primary school I regularly entered Burns competitions* where I'd sing and recite poetry. The stage held no fear for me.

Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT)

One doctor sent me to a psychologist for cognitive behavioral therapy. They also refer to it as talking therapy, probably because it involves a lot of talking. CBT gets you to challenge your thoughts, beliefs and attitudes and how they affect your feelings and behaviour.

But what about if the way you behave is perfectly proportionate to the way other people treat you? Besides, my problem has never been with myself and how I've responded to others - it's with other people. Life is tough enough without people being so nasty and petty minded to each other.

Cognitive Behavioural Therapy does help people, but I knew it wasn't going to work for me when my psychologist was sitting there telling me how I needed to learn to be happy with who I was and out the corner of my eye I saw a box of slimmasoup on her shelf. With all her training she wasn't happy with who she was, so how could she help me?

By the end of my sessions with her she couldn't. I was offered CBT again and I refused it. I didn't want to take up the
appointment time where somebody else could be helped. Just because it didn't work for me didn't mean the treatment wouldn't work for them.

Antidepressants

At one point I was also put on the antidepressant Fluoxitene (Prozac).
Tip - if you're vegetarian or vegan like me you can ask for the medication in a solution form like a cough syrup, as it usually comes in gelatine capsules (bits of animal muscle and bone swept up from the slaughterhouse floor).

So far though, nothing has helped. Going out alone is something I avoid. When I have to go out alone it's a nightmare for me. I have panic attacks where I feel as though I'm going to stop breathing or have a heart attack.

The only way I can go out alone is with my rescue dog. I'm so preoccupied playing and talking to him that I seldom have panic attacks.

At the moment, I'm on Diazepam to help me cope with day to day life. Like everyone I have good and bad days.

Are you agoraphobic? quiz 

If you answer yes to the following questions then you probably are. Agoraphobia can vary in severity.

Do you feel scared before you go out or try and avoid going out?

Are simple things like going to a nearby store difficult for you?

Do you suffer from panic attacks when you go out?

Is the only place you feel safe your home?

Do you suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder before you go out? Looking constantly out the window to see if anyone's around? 


*Robert Burns is Scotland's most famous writer. Competitions are held once a year where his songs are sung and his poems recited by school children. 

When writers get stuck what do they do?

Every writer gets stuck 

Recently I was working on the ending for the second book in my Detective in a Coma series, Cannibal City. In the book, a killer is on the loose. He's kidnapping men, force-feeding them, then killing them and eating their livers.

It was all going well, then I got stuck, I mean really stuck. 

I needed there to be something that would lead my detectives to finding out something about the person they were chasing and it couldn't be something obvious. Nor could it be a lead that landed on their laps. One of the characters had to have I  for this lead. 

There's nothing I hate more than crime thrillers or mystery novels where the crime's solved by the detectives getting lucky. 

I tried everything I could to solve my problem. I took time away from the novel and wrote something else. I did other non-writing activities - household chores that I should have done a long time ago, I played baseball with my rescue dog Benjy and I played a crime game on my Nintendo DS (it was called Awake - you should check it out). 

When the link I needed came it was out of the blue. A coiled snake bracelet of the kind Cleopatra might have worn. 

I wracked my brains trying to figure out this where this bracelet idea came from. Had I seen it on a TV show or in a movie? Read about it in a book? Seen it in a painting? 

It came to me so fully formed it had to have come from somewhere. 

It wasn't until days later that I found it in one of my storage boxes. Here's the picture below as proof - 

Footnote - Vile City, the first book in the series featuring Inspector Duncan Waddell will be published by Caffeine Nights in 2017 under my full name Jennifer Lee Thomson. 

I'm working on the third book in the series, Vigilante City.

Vile City - Detective in a Coma Book 1 is on the way

I was delighted to be featured in the latest Writing Magazine where I spoke about the origins of Vile City and in particular Stevie Campbell, the character who just wouldn't stop talking to me.

If you're a writer I would recommend that you subscribe to this great magazine so you can hear about markets and opportunities.

Vile City will be published in 2017 and will appear under my full name Jennifer Lee Thomson.

Before my dad passed away after a long and courageous battle with cancer, he expressed some regret that I’d never used my middle name Lee in my writing as I’m named after his great-grandmother.

Here's the blurb -

DI Duncan Waddell has big problems. He’s borderline diabetic. The paperwork is piling up faster than the underwear at a porn shoot.

Now his best pal DC Stevie Campbell, who’s in a coma after being attacked by a suspect, has started to talk to him. Trouble is, only Waddell can hear him.

The last thing he needs is the country’s biggest case to land on his lap.

Three women have gone missing in the city he’s fast coming to despise, victims of the GLASGOW GRABBER, as their assailant has been dubbed by local hack and all round thorn in Waddell’s backside, Catriona Hastie.

Shelley Craig is his latest victim, snatched as she and her boyfriend took a shortcut through Glasgow city centre.

And she’ll do anything to make it home. 

Who kidnapped Shelley Craig? 

Vile City is also the story of Shelley Craig
and her battle to make it home after she's kidnapped. 

Things I've Learnt From Watching Crime shows like Snapped and Psychic Detectives

Like a lot of people I binge watch TV crime programmes with the names like Deadly Intentions, Psychic Detectives and Snapped: Women Who Kill.

I like the fact that in the majority of cases the victims get justice.

And it never ceases to amaze me how the truth is stranger that fiction. I mean if I were to write about some of these life crimes in one of my books, people would say they were too far fetched.

I've also learnt a few things -

If you don't want your partner to murder you, don't get a life insurance policy. If you must get one DO NOT make them the beneficiary.

Does your husband hunt? Have a gun collection? Be wary, one day you could be their prey. If they know how to gut an animal, gutting you won't be a problem.

Just because your husband or wife are churchgoers/Sunday school teachers doesn't mean they won't cheat on you or even try to kill you.

If you suspect your partner is going to kill you, they probably are. Trust your intuition. 

If you suspect your partner is going to kill you, report your suspicions to the police. At least then when he does kill you the police will know who to question.

What The Walking Dead taught me about writing

Dumb decisions brought Rick and the gang to this point.

Most of the second half of Season 6 of The Walking Dead didn't make sense.

Most of the characters we know and love acted like they'd lost their minds.

Okay, I've said it. 

And I'm not alone in thinking it. 

The Walking Dead made us feel like this.

The last few episodes leading up the Walking Dead season 6 finale had a lot of people screaming at their TV screens. The reason - the characters that viewers know (probably as well as most family members) and love started acting out of character.

Rick kills Primo thinking he's Negan. 

Take Rick Grimes. He goes after Negan's gang not even knowing who exactly they are, what Negan looks like and whether his group will be outnumbered and outgunned. 

Does that make any sense for such a shrewd leader? No way, Jose.

Then there's our beloved Daryl Dixon. With the big bogey man coming in the shape of comic villain Negan (did Rick Grimes really think the red shirt he killed so easily in a previous episode was dictator Negan - I doubt it), Daryl Dixon decided to go after Savior Dwight who killed Dr Denise with an arrow to the head. Daryl believed he'd caused her death by not killing Dwight when he had the chance. 

Daryl Dixon gets caught too easily. Like that should happen!

If Daryl Dixon had gone after his zombie apocalypse soulmate, Carol, that'd have made sense. But getting justice for Denise, I just don't see it.

Rick and Daryl weren't the only ones behaving out of character.

When a psycho is coming, you need Carol. 

Carol, the mother of the group, decides to leave Tobin a Dear John letter and quit Alexandria. Bully Negan's heading their way, but hey she can't kill for anyone any more. Even though she's pretty good at it.

Abraham doesn't tell Rick his plan to take out the saviors is dumb.

Soldier Abraham doesn't even suggest they do some fact-finding on Negan and his band of thieves before they kill some of his cohorts whilst they're sleeping.

There's no due diligence like, "Hey, Rick shouldn't we check the guy you're about to kill genuinely is the Big, Bad Wolf?"

But, no the story isn't being dictated by Rick, Daryl, Carol and Abraham. What Rick and Co do is being dictated by the story. The writers are using them like pawns on a chessboard.

Annoying isn't it when characters are manipulated like that, and unsatisfying. 

And that's why so many fans like me are angry with The Walking Dead - we know these characters and how they'll react and its not how they've been acting on the show. 

Rick would find out everything he could about Negan before he went after him.

Daryl wouldn't go and get himself and a lot of his friends taken.

Carol would kill again - even if it was one last time.

Abraham would say to Rick, "We need to do this right."

Michonne getting caught? No way. 

No matter what you're writing, your characters have to act in a believable way. Rick, Daryl, Carol and Abraham haven't been doing that.

Their characters have been messed with to make the story go a certain way and that leaves viewers disappointed.

As a writer, you don't want your readers to feel the same way. They'd be perfectly entitled to throw your book across the room.

Characters must be consistent and if they change, there must be a very good reason for it.

Good storytelling has to make some sense, or your readers will be left disappointed. 

3 Ways to read like a writer

If you don't have time to read, you don't have time to write.

Read as many books as you can in the genre you want to write.

How often have we heard successful authors like Stephen King say that? And its true.

But, how do you read in a way that helps you to write?

Here's just 3 ways -

Rule no.1
Do you skim any text, or just go past it completely because it doesn't interest you?

If so, learn from it and don't write anything similar in your book, whether its long drawn out description or over flowery language.

Rule no.2
Just as you can learn from what you don't like in a book you can learn from what you do like.

Does the author ensure all their characters stand out because they're so different? I love it when they do without dragging the story down to a snail's pace.

Rule no.3
Think about what makes the main character stand out or be a cliche. In a crowded genre like crime thriller you have to do something different.

I've tried to make Detective Inspector Duncan Waddell in my Detective in a Coma series different by making him doubt his sanity because everyone tells him his friend and colleague Stevie Campbell is a coma, but he's talking to him. This not only gives Waddell something that will make him stand out, it also gives Vile City and the rest of the series a supernatural angle.

Coping With Rejection sucks but you can get through it

It used to come as the sound of your manuscript in a brown envelope thudding as it hit your doormat.

Now its more likely to come as an email which in a way makes it worse because until you've read it there's this tiny glimmer of hope that its going to be a yes and that in a minute you will be dancing around the rooming yelling, "Ya, beauty." (I'm Scottish and that's how I celebrate).

They'll be no happy dance:)

You read the email and usually the phrase you get is "it's not for us" or "thanks for sending this to us but you weren't successful on this occasion." Your head dips, your heart sinks and all the other cliches happen.

So, how do you get through this crushing sense of failure?

First off, don't see it as failure. Its usually someone's opinion - just one person. Do we all like the same things? Nope. So, why would we like the same books?

Besides, failure isn't trying and getting knocked down. Failure is not trying and putting yourself in a position to fail.

How many people do you know who say they're writing a book who never actually write a book?

Too many.

What else helps when you get that disappointing no?

Well, I like to watch comedies. After yesterday's thumping disappointment I binge watched Parks and Recreation.

Laughing away the tears helps.

Chocolate also helps. Probably so does wine but I'm teetotal and it would be too easy to drown your sorrows. If you know when to stop, you go for it.

Talking to other writers might help. My favourite forum is the TalkBack one from Writer's News. You'll find it here

Most importantly if you got any feedback at all treasure it. Publishers and agents don't say things they don't mean. My latest rejection said they liked the idea behind my submission.

Be kind to yourself, folks. Remember the path to a writer's success is paved with rejection slips and emails. It shows you've been brave enough to get your work out there.

CARRY ON WRITING.

Free Zombie story - Pick Your Brain

What would happen once the zombie apocalypse was over and people (and zombies) were forced to justify their actions?

That's the scenario I took and then ran with it for my short story Pick Your Brain. I'd describe it as horror with a dash of crime.

Pick Your Brain

by

Jenny Thomson

“Miss McBride, in all my years of representing clients whom other less well attuned legal brains would turn down as unwinnable, I have never come across one single case I could not win.” He pursed his lips. “Until now that is. Do you honestly think citing a…”

He cleared his throat.

“And, I’m quoting your expert witness Professor Romero here. "A virus that renders people incapable of rational thought and gives them an uncontrollable compulsion to consume human flesh, especially human brains," is going to assist your boyfriend in his defence after he was caught by two police officers, standing over the lifeless body of his friend, clutching a baseball bat soaked in the blood and chunks of brain matter from the deceased who was later found to have died from multiple brain injuries consistent with several blows to the head from a baseball bat?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s the truth.”

Charles Benson, who had so many letters after his name it was like a game of Scrabble, eyed me like I was the last lunatic left in an asylum. “Did one of my learned colleagues put you up to this?” His eyes swept the room. “Are there hidden cameras? Is this some TV prank show?”

His reaction was hardly a new one. I’d encountered similar reactions from other barristers who were convinced I was delusional. “No,” I said, defiant, “this isn’t a prank. This is real.”

He raised his chin. The gesture reminded me of a haughty child.

“Well, in that case Miss McBride, I can’t help you. It’s a psychiatrist you need, not a man of law.”

Condescension seeped from his every word.

It was hard to hide my disappointment. I’d been sure he was the one man who could help us and argue that Scott had acted in self-defence. His friend, Archie was trying to eat him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Benson.” And I was genuinely sorry. If he couldn’t help Scott in this way he’d have to help him in another.

“I honestly thought someone of your calibre who’d successfully argued that a man wasn’t guilty of murdering his wife because he mistook her for a lion, would have a more open mind.” I paused to eye him with disdain. “Perhaps you could speak to Scott and explain why you won’t help him. He’s a teacher and a well-respected pillar of this community just like you. It’ll only take a minute. He’s outside.”

Charles Benson’s face went pumice grey. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t have the time. My next client will be here.”

I stood up and walked over to the door. “Well, in that case our business is over, Mr Benson. But there’s one last thing you can help me with.”

With a nod of the head, I opened the door. “I think you should meet Scott anyway, so you’ll understand. You see, in the attack he was bitten. More like a scrape caused by teeth sliding against his skin really. He didn’t turn as quickly as they do in the movies or in The Walking Dead.”

I gave a wry smile. “Well, things are seldom as they are in the movies.”

Scott shambled into the room, feral eyes glowing as he saw his prey. His nails were ragged and torn and bloody from eating the two prison guards on the way over and the secretary outside.

Charles Benson’s eyes were wide with terror. “You better leave now, or I’m calling the police.”

His words were strangled.

As Scott pinned him to the desk and sunk decaying teeth into his fat flesh, I couldn’t resist one last parting shot.

“Do you believe me now, Mr Benson?”

He was unable to answer. Scott had ripped out his throat – the blood that spurted out of the arrogant lawyer’s veins reminded me of raspberry sauce on an ice cream cone. Blood is never as red as you think, not when you get used to it.

Scott devoured the lips, then the nose, followed by the brain. The intestines he gorged on like cheesy string. Benson’s fingers he wolfed down like hot dogs.

Once he was done, he licked the blood and flesh from his teeth.

I wagged a finger at him. “Christ, Scott, we’re gonna run out of lawyers soon.”

Scott drooled. “HUNGRY. BRAINS.”

My face softened. “Okay, but we need to tidy up this office and go. We have more legal brains we need to pick.”

The End (or is it the beginning?)

 

Note - This story first appeared in the kick ass Pulp Metal Magazine

Jenny Thomson is the author of Scottish zombie novel DeadBastards that's been described as "a cross between Trainspotting and Shaun of the Dead."