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    Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series: The Tale of Tom Zombie, #2
    Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series: The Tale of Tom Zombie, #2
    Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series: The Tale of Tom Zombie, #2
    Ebook56 pages1 hour

    Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series: The Tale of Tom Zombie, #2

    By H.D. Timmons

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    About this ebook

    Tom Dexter discovers that he has committed a murder that he can't remember. He is even having trouble remembering things from his past.

    As he tries to put the puzzle pieces of his life back together, he becomes entangled in a military conspiracy surrounding the zombie epidemic outbreak.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherH.D. Timmons
    Release dateNov 27, 2012
    ISBN9781301132799
    Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series: The Tale of Tom Zombie, #2
    Author

    H.D. Timmons

    H.D. Timmons is the author of The Tale of Tom Zombie ebook series, the short suspense ebook and audiobook Savage, as well as other ebook fiction short stories. He has also had articles published in Adoption Today Magazine, RetailerNOW Magazine, and New Focus Daily Magazine. Mr. Timmons was born in Brooklyn, NY and is currently a Creative Director living in Kernersville, NC.

    Read more from H.D. Timmons

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      Book preview

      Zombie Lies - #2 in the Tom Zombie Series - H.D. Timmons

      Zombie Lies

      #2 in the Tom Zombie Series

      By H.D. Timmons

      Copyright © 2012 by H.D. Timmons

      Smashwords Edition

      Part One

      Tom Dexter felt a haze lift as if he were experiencing a sudden shift from night to day and recovering from a severe head rush all at once. He found himself lying on the floor and was so disoriented that remaining in his supine position for a few moments longer seemed in order.

      The room in which he found himself was unfamiliar. From his position on the floor he saw the bed in front of him and the meager, but modern furnishings in the rest of the room. He surmised that he was in a hotel room, but the observations provided nothing to jog his memory to explain how he had gotten there or why.

      Tom thought hard with every brain cell he could muster to try to remember something – anything. He grasped at fuzzy, distant memories but nothing seemed to manifest at the moment.

      Gripping the mattress in front of him, Tom pulled himself to a standing position, steadied himself, and was able to see the top of the bed clearly for the first time. The bed spread was splattered with blood and partially pulled off the opposite side of the mattress. Making his way around to the other side Tom saw a body positioned face up on the floor.

      It was a man, who looked to be in his mid-fifties, judging from the partially gray hair, roughly two hundred and twenty pounds, and a bullet hole through the breast pocket of his blood soaked navy blue suit with another through his eye. Tom observed a 9mm gun on the floor and his instincts told him to take the gun and just get the hell out of there.

      As he turned for the door his gaze crossed the wall mirror and he fired a shot dead center into the face of his own reflection. Realizing what he had done, Tom peered closely at himself in the mirror shards that remained. Shock and disbelief engulfed him as he saw the ghastly face staring back at him. Nose deteriorated, lips eroded to the point where the exposed teeth on one side of his face presented a perpetual hideous snarl.

      Zombie virus, Tom murmured to himself as if this recollection alone defined his existence. Flashes came forth from the recesses of his memory. There was a woman whose face was not clear, then came a flash of his own face from when the blemishes first appeared. He felt emotions of shame, despair and self-hatred attached to the memories of his virus, but there were still so many pieces of the puzzle of his life missing.

      As his thoughts fought to conjure more memories that would provide some answers, or at least clues, police sirens cut the pensive silence and Tom tucked the gun into the back of his pants’ waistband and fled.

      #

      As morning sunlight squeezed between the buildings of downtown Chicago, Tom’s steps carried him between shadows and patches of sunlight that made the sidewalk appear as if it were a giant piano keyboard that he was walking across. Half recognizing buildings and street names, Tom tried to piece together what had happened to him, but he was at a loss for any thought at all – except the thought of distancing himself from the Sheraton Hotel and the dead body in room 909.

      Crossing over the Chicago Riverwalk on North Columbus Drive should have been a familiar sight to Tom, but it was as if he was experiencing the Riverwalk for the first time. Everything before regaining consciousness in the hotel room was a blur, as if Tom were waking from some spell.

      After putting several more blocks between him and the hotel, the fog in his head lifted and the familiarity of his fair Chicago began to return. Although many personal memories were still elusive for the moment, he at least felt more in control. Just before turning right onto East Randolph Street, Tom observed

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