By Michael Logan
When you imagine you've visible all of it -- WORLD WAR Z, THE WALKING DEAD-- you haven't visible something like this. From the twisted mind of Michael Logan comes Apocalypse Cow, a narrative approximately 3 not going heroes who needs to shop Britain . . . from a rampaging horde of ZOMBIE COWS! Forget the cud. they need blood. It all started with a cow that simply wouldn't die. it can turn into a virus that reworked Britain's farm animals into sneezing, slavering, flesh-craving four-legged zombies. And if that wasn't undesirable sufficient, the destiny of the state turns out to relaxation at the shoulders of 3 not likely heroes: an abattoir employee whose love existence is non-existent because of the stench of dying that adheres to him, a teenage vegan with eczema and a peculiar weigh down on his maths instructor, and a clumsy journalist who wouldn't realize a scoop if she tripped over one. As the country descends into chaos, can they pool their assets, release a treatment, and retailer the world? Three losers.Overwhelming odds.One consequence . . . Yup, we're screwed.
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Additional resources for Apocalypse Cow
His callused elbows were rough enough to cut glass. He rammed a finger in his nose in introduction. "I'm Douglas Willieboy, man. " Now that he was using more than one syllable, I did detect a slight twang. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Willieboy. " He laughed and slapped the counter. "Oh shit yah, for a price, Mr. Wildclown. " Usually, when a mountain tells you this, you prepare to part with a sizable sum. " He looked me up and down. "Authority is looking for that Van Reydner broad. They got her room closed up tight.
I think I screamed once as I fell toward the street with the strange, crumbling structure. I clung tight to the sheets. I really didn't have anything else to do. I remember a sharp, searing jolt to my shoulders, and a powerful tearing of wood. Then falling again. Then another jolt, a wild swing and a tooth chipping slap into bricks. More falling. I tasted blood--there was another crash of wood and bricks and human--then a darkness that was complete. Which was strange. Chapter 7 I awoke with a dizzy, sickening sensation.
It felt two bullets light. I cursed my carelessness and then did a quick inventory. Bullets had grown too scarce for such haphazard killing. Authority was doing their best to enforce their ban. But as always, the Black Market picked up any slack the legislation created. The Black Market loved a ban--it drove the price. I walked over creaking floorboards to a front desk that resembled a battered truck fender. Just behind it was a ruddy balding head with a mixture of black and gray hairs straggling from it like dying weeds.
Apocalypse Cow by Michael Logan