Bookshelf Battle

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By: Special Guest Interviewer Video Game Rack Fighter 

Zombie movie buffs rejoice because today’s guest is none other than Devan Sagliani, author of the original screenplay for the movie HVZ: Humans Versus Zombies, a satirical thriller flick based on the live action role playing game of the same name. As if that weren’t enough, he also penned the Zombie Attack! series, The Undead L.A. series, The Rising Dead, A Thirst for Fire, and most recently Saint Death. Don’t forget to check out Escapist Magazine for his bimonthly horror column, Dark Dreams.

NOTE:  BOLD=VGRF; ITALICS=Devan

Thanks for taking my call, Devan. Bookshelf Q. Battler would have called but he’s too busy arguing with his ex-girlfriend, which leads me to my first question:

Q.  …

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Today’s guest is a bonafide zombie expert, so much so that “Zombie” is his middle name. Joseph “Zombie” Zuko is the author of The Infected Series, as well as the owner of Zombie Camp 17, a zombie themed T-shirt comedy.

To round it all off, he brings his wit and wisdom to the masses with his podcast, Shotgun and Scotch. In his spare time, he studies Krav Maga and works on his fitness to remain in peak zombie fighting condition so as to be prepared to take on the undead hordes at a moment’s notice.

Joe, thanks for taking my call.

Q.   I hate to admit it, but I’m out of shape. I’m trapped in a zombie…

Halminotrin. Street name – huff. That stuff will grow hair on your chest and turn it curly, let me tell you. I kept a slab of it in a plastic bag in the glove compartment. I broke off a small pebble, crushed it into the tray of my vape-o-matic inhalator, mixed in some bottled water and presto, put the mask on my face, hit the on button and presto, I was ready to trip balls.

The inhalator chugged away. I sniffed in the goodness. It made me feel light. Airy. Happy even.

“You’re really going to do that now?” Jones asked.

“I can’t think of a better time to do it,” I said, my voice muffled by my apparatus. “I’ve got an edge that needs to be taken off, my friend.”

“You couldn’t just do some jumping jacks?”

I pulled the mask up, just a bit off my mouth so…

I was free falling.  Twenty-five thousand feet and plummeting over primo real estate.  Beings paid good money to get this kind of view but they were usually aboard sightseeing ships.  Between the spotlights, the city lights, and the incessantly blinking advertising boards below, I could barely see what I was doing.

Sourcemind aka Ninety-five was nowhere to be found.  He was so heavy that his burnt out carcass made a beeline to the planet below.  My mystery woman, on the other hand, was a bit of a waif.  Tall, skinny, yet curvy in all the right places.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  Jones shouted.

“Improvising!  Get down there!”

Jonesy abided.  The Star Streaker roared past me on a vertical course.  I aimed myself in the general direction of my quarry, but I needed some help.

The LaMonza Corporation’s CTK Sparkmatic Attack Cord…

Hyperion Bay. Malostet’s most picturesque tourist spot. Fireworks erupted in bursts every color of the rainbow overhead as I popped open the hatch. I climbed up onto the roof of the rickety old ship, watching my footing carefully.

Sourcemind soared across the city skyline. His hostage remained passed out over Ninety-Five’s shoulder, secured only by a metal hand. My pilot kept pace, staying a safe distance behind.

“What the hell is this thing?” I asked Jones through my Sen Pen relay as I stared at a metal bolt with a flat, round disc at the end. It was attached to a long length of cable that ran down the hatch and into the ship.

“An amantonov magnet,” Jones answered. “Strongest in the Known Universe.”

I loaded it into my harpoon gun. I always travel with one. You never know when you might spot a wild kamaratox dragon. Their hides fetch…

Jones was at ease in the pilot’s seat, monitoring an array of buttons, lights, and knobs. 

“Why would Sourcemind kidnap a female for?”  he asked.  “He doesn’t even have a…”

“That’s what I said.”

Good ole Jonesy.  A better friend you’ll never find though don’t tell him I said that.  It’ll go right to his head.  Speaking of, his was typical of the Vek species.  It was big, bulbous and sat atop a skinny, green, three foot tall body, which was rarely, if ever, covered.  He wasn’t big on clothing and didn’t need to be, because he was asexual.

In layman’s terms, he had no junk to speak of.  Even so, it wouldn’t have killed him to put on pants, but I’ve learned to pick my battles.

Izok’s head sat on the control panel, his eyes still open, it was almost as…

Alien Jones to the rescue.

I ran out onto the roof top.  Casinos.  Hotels.  Strip clubs.  They all lit up the night sky with illuminated billboards, each more tacky than the next.  The only lights I wanted to see were attached to my ride. 

They were nowhere to be seen.

“You’re fired,”  I said.

“Oh good,”  Jones said into my ear.  “Now I can sue you for all that backpay you owe me.”

“I ask you to do one thing!”

“Relax,”  Jones said.

A dozen shai warriors poured out of the door.  Serious players, decked out in battle suits, packing some serious heat.

“So boys,”  I said as I threw up my hands, “Don’t suppose there’s anyway we could talk about this?”

“Yes, Mr. Voss,”  a voice called up from the stairwell.  “Let us talk about this.”