10:00 a.m.
Delilah K. Donnelly, BQB’s Attorney
For the first time in twenty days, I felt comfortable enough to sleep in. VGRF was snuggled in close to me, her mouth wide open as she snored and blew a strand of her red hair up and down with each exhale and inhale.
There was someone I needed to check in with. I was way overdue.
I punched a number into the space phone and a few moments later, I found myself staring at a video feed of a blonde woman. She was all class and elegance. Her hair was such that it looked like she visited a salon daily. Her dress was one of the finest that the Beverly Hills boutiques had to offer.
She spoke with style and grace with an undertone of Old Hollywood glamour.
“Mr. Battler?”
“Hello Ms. Donnelly.”
It was my attorney, Delilah K. Donnelly, Official Lead Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog and my chief advisor on all legal matters.
“Are you quite alright?” Delilah asked. “I must say I haven’t heard from you in quite some time and after viewing the news reports regarding the tragedy in your hometown, I’ve grown dreadfully concerned.”
“I’m good for now,” I said. “But listen, I need your help.”
“Of course.”
“I’m being targeted by a crooked general, one Thomas Morganstern,” I explained. “He’s none too pleased that Jake spilled the beans about Operation Fuhrerpunschen and intends to use the zombie apocalypse as a cover to blow me up, thus shutting the Bookshelf Battle Blog down for good.”
“Good heavens,” Delilah said. “The 3.5 readers would be lost without you, sir. What ever shall we do?”
“Tell Jake he needs to write down a rough draft of everything he can remember about the mission he went on to punch Adolf Hitler in the face,” I said. “Then get it to a secure location. Let Morganstern know that if anything ever happens to me, no, to any of us, that the manuscript will be self-published.”
“Shall we price it at ninety-nine cents on Amazon?” Delilah asked.
“Jesus Christ, Delilah,” I said. “What am I, a teenage girl hocking her love poems? We’re talking about the scoop on a top secret government operation to punch history’s greatest monster in the face. Surely we can get at least 2.99 for it.”
“Of course. I shall recruit Detective Hatcher’s assistance immediately,” Delilah said. “I must say it won’t be easy, Mr. Battler. He remains invariably displeased that you continue to withhold the secret of his sixty year nap from him.”
“You sound like you have something to say,” I said.
Delilah lit up one of her long filtered cigarettes and took a puff. I could tell she was stalling.
“Do you think its fair?” she asked.
“That I string Jake along like a circus monkey, making him dance for the info he wants to know?” I asked. “No, not at all.”
“He views you as some type of absurd villain,” Delilah said. “Toying with him just to drive your site’s readership higher than 3.5.”
“Then let him think that,” I said. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Delilah flicked some ash into a ceramic tray on her desk.
“Tell him the truth?”
“What?” I asked. “That a maniacal alien despot is threatening to conquer Earth unless my writing career takes off and that running a website featuring regular posts from a hard boiled noir style detective full of stories of his exploits might just be the one thing that puts me over the top?”
“I suppose it does sound foolish when you put it that way.”
“You’ve got a bigger heart than you’re given credit for Delilah,” I said. “But you know for the Pop Culture Mysteries posts to work, we need to insulate Jake from aliens, the Yeti, Dr. Hugo, really all the ridiculous nonsense that happens in the Bookshelf Battle world.”
“Very well, Mr. Battler,” Delilah said. “I must say I fear that Detective Hatcher may be in for quite a letdown when he discovers how he ended up here.”
VGRF stirred, stretched and yawned.
“Did you feel letdown when I told you how you ended up here?” I asked.
Delilah’s large eyes looked down.
“At first, yes. And for quite some time thereafter.”
“And now?” I asked.
She looked up.
“I feel eternally grateful for the gift you’ve given me.”
“Jake will eventually share that feeling.”
Delilah scoffed.
“I doubt that indubitably. Detective Hatcher is hardly as open minded as I am.”
“Hi Delilah,” VGRF said.
“Good morning, Ms. Fighter,” my attorney said. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.”
“I’m ever so glad to hear it,” Delilah said. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Battler?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Halloween is coming. Can you see if Jake will find out why the hero in a horror movie just clubs the bad guy one time and assumes victory, only to find that the baddie has just discovered his second wind and is ready to fight again? I’ll send you the details. Tell Jake there’s a cool fiver in it for him.”
“Ever the big spender,” Delilah said. “I’ll deliver your requests to Detective Hatcher right away. Good day Mr. Battler. Ms. Fighter.”
“Good day,” I replied.
I hanged up the phone.
“You’re lucky to have her,” VGRF said.
“The top lawyer in Hollywood representing a guy with a blog that caters to a mere 3.5 readers?” I asked. “Uh…yeah, I think so.”
“She’s very loyal,” VGRF said.
“True,” I said. “And if there’s one quality you can’t get enough of in the zombie apocalypse, it’s loyalty.”
I dialed another number on the space phone.
“That reminds me. Time to call another zombie author.”
Bookshelf Battle 