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    Zombies Got Your Girlfriend: I Hate Zombies, #3
    Zombies Got Your Girlfriend: I Hate Zombies, #3
    Zombies Got Your Girlfriend: I Hate Zombies, #3
    Ebook212 pages2 hours

    Zombies Got Your Girlfriend: I Hate Zombies, #3

    By Shantnu Tiwari

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    About this ebook

    In Which Our Heroes Must Defeat Demons From Another Dimension While Remembering to Pay Their Gas Bill

     

    Zombie attacks are increasing across London.

     

    Good news: Blue found out who is causing them.

     

    Bad news: The attacks are being led by beings from a parallel dimension. A Ghost London where humanity lost and because cheese burger (yum).

     

    Even more bad news: They tricked and captured our heroes.

     

    Worse news: They are about to eat our heroes.

     

    Horrible news: Blue doesn't even have a girlfriend. He is going to die a virgin.

     

    Terrifying news: Shake realises he forgot to pay their gas bill. If they survive the zombies from Ghost London, the gas company will kill them.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShantnu Tiwari
    Release dateJun 26, 2015
    ISBN9781513017297
    Zombies Got Your Girlfriend: I Hate Zombies, #3

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      Book preview

      Zombies Got Your Girlfriend - Shantnu Tiwari

      1

      If I had known those two boys were going to kill me, would I have done anything different?

      Don’t see how I could have.

      Like demons from hell, they came in with murderous intentions. Cruel and merciless, they murdered a dozen of my patients, all the while laughing like maniacs. They seemed to enjoy murder.

      Veni, Vidi, Necavi.

      I came, I saw, I killed.

      That summed them up quite well.

      It was just after seven. The light was starting to fade, and it was just beginning to get a little cold. Like most of the group, I had just been wearing loose clothes more suitable for the daytime heat, and the sudden gust of cold air gave me a chill. I shivered, drawing a laugh from one of the group.

      Cold, Dr Stevens? said a girl. Kat, I think her name was.

      Well, it is getting a bit chilly this time of night, I replied.

      Any plans for tonight? she asked.

      No. Tired from working all day. Will call it an early night.

      Pity. I feel lonely. Will have to sleep alone, again.

      She moved her hands over her bare thighs, her short skirt barely covering her legs. I looked away.

      Kat had asked me out several times before. She didn’t seem to understand our relationship was strictly professional. I wasn’t her doctor in here, but that didn’t mean I was her friend, either. Most people of the group understood that. Kat didn’t.

      Right. I think that’s everyone.

      I moved to close the door to the hall. It was a community hall in the day, one of the few that hadn’t been torn down and turned into luxury apartments for wealthy foreigners who never lived in London but didn’t mind paying millions for tiny flats. Meanwhile, people like me couldn’t afford to live within fifty miles of London.

      The hall wasn’t very luxurious, but it served its purpose. All we needed were a few chairs. The building cleared at night, giving us the privacy we needed. The quiet and peace gave us a chance to talk freely without the fear of being overheard

      I moved to close the door. Smell from a local Indian takeaway hit me, making my mouth water. I knew it wasn’t healthy taking out food regularly, but I’m sure once or twice a week was okay. I did work seventy hours a week and deserved a little treat now and then. I would avoid the fried starters, pakoras I think they’re called. The rest of the food wouldn’t be that unhealthy.

      I turned back to the group. It may have been dark outside, but inside, the bright tube lights hit my eyes. They were too bright. Had they always been this shiny?

      I looked at the group. Seven people, as usual. They were making good progress, and I was proud of them.

      Right, everyone. Welcome to the Cancer Support Group. As always, everything you say here is confidential. Feel free to ask anything, to discuss anything. Don’t be scared, as no one here will judge you.

      They all knew the rules, but I repeated them again every time. We did get new people now and then, and it was nice to make the ground rules clear. I had to make everyone comfortable so that they could discuss what they wanted to without worrying about being judged or being laughed at. This was a safe place.

      Right. Let’s begin. As usual, we go round the group. Everyone will get fifteen minutes, though you can take less time if you want. At the end of the session, we will discuss any group questions. Okay?

      Everyone nodded. They were used to it by now. I saw Kat eyeing me with lust in her eyes. I saw two of the other men eyeing her up in return. Why didn’t she hook up with one of them? They had shown plenty of interest. I guess I fulfilled any daddy fantasies she had.

      We were about to begin when the door was pushed open and two laughing men came in. I say men, but they were barely boys out of their teens. Rude and arrogant, as many in their age are. And for some reason, both were carrying cricket bats, like they had come straight from the pitch.

      They were joking about something.

      And then I said to her, first you suck me, then you can eat me, zombie bitch, said one.

      Ouch! That’s nasty dude, said the other.

      ’Course it is. I’m nasty boy.

      They high-fived each other.

      Rude children.

      I coughed loudly. Excuse me. Do you know where you are going?

      One of them looked up and down at me, like he was sizing me up for a fight. I wasn’t scared of him. I had grown up in a rough neighbourhood. Met tough punks like him everyday.

      But he didn’t hit me. Instead, he said, This is the cancer support group, right?

      They didn’t look like they had cancer. Both were too young and clearly healthy. I mean, children do get cancer, but thirty years of practising medicine meant I could tell from a glance who had spent months in the hospital.

      Mainly, it was the attitude. People who had recovered from cancer weren’t cocky. They had a humility, a spiritualness about them. Even if they weren’t religious, they did have respect that something greater than them was taking care of them.

      These two didn’t have that. They had the arrogance and cockiness of kids who thought they were immortal. They would learn soon.

      That said, the group didn’t turn anyone away. It was not my place to judge them, no matter how much they irritated me.

      Please come in. Have a seat.

      They both pulled chairs. But while the rest of the group sat in a circle, the two of them sat separately, like they were better than us. But perhaps they were just scared. I decided to make them feel welcome.

      We usually go around the circle and everyone can discuss anything they want. Hopes, fears, problems with relatives or hospital staff, sexual problems, nothing is off limits. We do ask that you respect other people’s privacy and not repeat anything you heard here outside. So would you like to start? Tell us your names, what cancer you have, and what you are expecting from the group. Go on. Don’t be scared.

      The first one spoke. My name is Blue. Because of my blue eyes. And I have breast cancer.

      I coughed. You don’t fit the profile of a breast cancer patient.

      Really? Must be the other one then.

      Which other one?

      He just shrugged.

      Right. Your friend.

      His friend was taller, though he had the same smartass look. Hey everyone. I’m Shakespeare, though everyone calls me Shake. I don’t have cancer, I’m just here to give support to my friend Blue. He’s a sissy girl, you see.

      They both laughed and high-fived each other. I thought it was in bad taste. I was all for youngsters being clowns, but this was absolutely the wrong place for that.

      Guys, this is a serious place. We do not allow jokes here. Just last week, two of our members lost their battle with cancer. If you can’t respect what we do here, please leave.

      The one called Blue raised his hand. Sorry, Dr Stevens. We’ll try to be serious.

      Fine. Thank you. We are doing important work here, you know.

      Of course.

      I decided to go back to our normal process. Starting with Kat, we went round the group. The first time round, everyone just said their names and what progress, if any, they had made against their disease. The second time round, they could discuss any issues they had. Most people didn’t and just came for the support, but we did have one or two people each session who needed extra support, and we gave it to them, as a group.

      That was the thing, see. I wasn’t a doctor here, I was just another cancer survivor. I was as qualified as everyone else to give help, and so we supported each other as a group. There were people who had been in and out of hospitals for three or more years, and they were more qualified than me to help the others. And that was the point. We were a support group. We knew that as a group, we were more powerful than any one of us.

      As we went round the group the first time, the two new boys just sat there, giggling and laughing secretly. It made me really angry. They were mocking us.

      I could feel the rest of the group getting irritated, too.

      I tried to ignore them, but they kept getting more and more obnoxious. One of them took out a mobile phone and opened up a video of some dog doing stunts. Both of them started laughing loudly.

      I’d had enough. This was beyond rude now.

      Excuse me. Do you mind? This is a cancer support group. Do you know how many people have died from cancer just last week alone? Do you have no respect? No shame? Have none of you lost relatives to cancer?

      The one called Shake spoke. Both my parents died from cancer. So, yes, I do know. And that’s what makes it so worse.

      Makes what worse?

      He ignored me. His friend Blue spoke next. I haven’t lost anyone to cancer, though my mother was murdered last month.

      I was shocked. Murdered? He didn’t act like it. Murdered by whom?

      By someone like you.

      Like me? I was trying hard to control myself. You mean a doctor?

      No, I don’t mean doctor, said the boy called Blue.

      I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Who are you two? What are you doing here?

      They looked at each other. Shake spoke. We are hunters. We hunt and kill.

      Hunt? Kill? What?

      Your type, doctor. You. Usually, finding our prey is hard. They are very careful.

      They who? You are not making sense. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.

      Afraid we can’t do that.

      One of the group members, Haye, was a bouncer. Six feet tall, he was built like a bull. He got up now.

      Right, boys. Don’t want trouble here. Leave now.

      Normally, I wouldn’t allow violence. But perhaps it was time to throw these clowns out. This had gone on long enough. Haye was more than a match for them. His cancer had been healed years ago, and he was in perfect shape. He only came here to help others, to give others the support he had received.

      Best of all, he was used to throwing out punks like these. It was his main job, after all.

      Last few years, ever since the recession, violence had increased in our society, and especially our pubs. People saw the bouncers or pub staff as easy targets to take out their frustrations on. Haye was used to dealing with violent people, and I was sure he’d take care of these two troublemakers.

      I was wrong.

      They never gave him a chance.

      As soon as Haye came near them, one of them took out a cricket bat and hit him on the head. And then, in front of our horrified eyes, he committed first degree murder. The psychopath, his eyes lacking any emotion whatsoever, took great joy in hitting Haye on the head till he died.

      His friend locked the door, locking us with them. And they were blocking the exit.

      All the patients huddled in my corner in fear. I saw Kat clinging on to me, her eyes full of the fear of death.

      Haye was lying motionless on the ground. I could smell his death even from across the hall. Beside me, I heard two people sob, including Kat.

      Please, I said to the assailants. Take what you want. Take our wallets. But please don’t kill us. What have we done to offend you?

      One of them laughed. Your whole existence is an offence to us.

      I felt tears swell up my eyes. I didn’t want to die like this. Killed for no reason but the amusement of mentally disturbed people.

      And they were disturbed. One turned to the other. Hey Blue, I killed the first. I get one point.

      They were doing this for a game? How sick could one get?

      I would find out soon.

      The one called Blue charged towards us, and before we could realise what was happening, he killed Kat.

      One second, she was holding on to me. The next, she had fallen down, her head bashed in with such violence, I saw parts of her skull sticking to my coat.

      That’s it, I said. We will fight you. Arm yourselves.

      We picked up chairs, a table, our pens, anything we could to fight these two psychopaths. There were still about six of us left.

      We didn’t stand a chance. The two men, clearly used to dishing out violence, were too fast for us. They killed another three people in the blink of an eye.

      Three-two, Blue.

      I’ll catch up, I promise. I’ll get the doctor fellow. He’s worth two points, isn’t he?

      They both looked at me and smiled . If you can get him, said the man called Shake.

      Stop it! Stop it, I screamed. Why are you doing this to us? What have we done to you?

      We told you. Your existence is an insult to us and what we stand for.

      What have we done to you? I cried. Most of us are cancer survivors. We haven’t harmed you in anyway.

      The two looked at each other. Should we tell them, Blue?

      Why not? shrugged Blue.

      Blue started speaking. Actually, it’s your fault, Dr Stevens.

      Mine? What did I do to you?

      They made a mistake with you. You were too famous. They should not have chosen you.

      They who? Who the hell are you talking about?

      He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. I saw this a few days ago. Normally, I don’t pay attention to the obituaries, but you, Dr Stevens, are a celebrity. Besides, you helped Shake’s parents when they got cancer, and so we knew about you.

      What are you talking about? I have no idea, I said. Clearly, the two were delusional. Blue threw the paper to me.

      It was a newspaper cutting. An obituary.

      Mine.

      Is this some sort of a sick joke?

      I assure you, doctor, it is not. We even met your wife. You are very much dead. And then we heard that this doctor was holding sessions for cancer patients. A doctor who died six weeks ago. Like I said, they made a mistake when they chose you. You were too famous. One of the most famous doctors in Britain, in fact. How did they think no one would notice you walking around?

      This joke is getting…

      But I

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