How did you become a zombie?
I’m not…sure. When you’re turned, you…lose your memories.
What is the most difficult thing about being a zombie?
Most would say…hunger, but I think…loneliness and not…knowing who I…am.
How do you feel about humans?
I’m torn with…them. They taste so…good, but they are…fascinating. They can…talk and laugh. They…love. They remember.
How does your partner feel about you being a zombie?
At first Lyric wanted…to kill me. Now she…wants to help. Says…there’s more than…the hunger. She sees…Anson, not zombie.
What is a common misconception about zombies?
That I’m mindless.
Where are you from?
Not sure…but now live in…a school.
What is your main purpose in life?
To eat and remember.
Who is your greatest enemy and why?
Rot kills.
Do you think you can ever reconcile with this enemy?
Eating keeps it…away, but humans are… becoming scarce.
Do you have a love interest?
Lyric.
What is your weapon of choice?
I don’t have one.
What makes you happy?
New things. Life outside of…the school.
Do you have a code of honor?
I’m a zombie. We live by our…stomachs.
What makes you angry?
Can’t remember being angry.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Want my memories…back.
What do you think is your greatest strength?
The other zombies only…care about food. I want to know…about us. Greatest strength…curiosity.
What do you think is your greatest weakness?
Can’t fight hunger.
What do you think is your enemy’s greatest strength?
Rots greatest strength is…can’t be stopped.
What do you think is your enemy’s greatest weakness?
Doesn’t have one.
Name one person you admire.
The white-haired swordsman.
Name one person you trust.
Lyric.
Blurb:
Plan to survive: befriend a monster. Not in the plan: falling in love with him.
As one of the few humans left alive, Lyric knows a hundred different ways to survive—none of them pretty. Anything to stay out of the “farms” where the not-so-mindless zombies keep humans they eat to prevent themselves from rotting.
But humans have to eat too. While foraging for food, she’s captured and taken to a farm. Her fate seems sealed—until she notices one of the zombies watching her with a different kind of hunger in his eyes.
Anson clings to the hope that he can somehow overcome the disease that turned him into a cannibal. Lyric stirs needs and desires he’s forgotten he had, and her fighting spirit brings back the ragged edge of a past that long ago slipped from his memory.
When Anson offers moments of freedom in exchange for her help, Lyric grabs the chance to survive. She never thought her emotions would cast a very different light on the monster…or that desire would complicate her plan to escape.
Warning: Contains a hopeless romantic zombie trying to find his humanity, and a plucky heroine desperate for a way out—even if it’s down a zombie’s pants. Not for the faint of heart…or the squeamish. Let’s just say kissing is off the menu.
August Kert bio:
August Kert writes paranormal romances about atypical heroes who’d do anything for their feisty heroines, and unusual love stories you’ll never forget.
She lives in northern Ohio where winter never seems to end and summer is nothing but road construction. She married her own prince in 2007. They are the proud parents of a hyperactive dog, a spastic ferret, a lazy rabbit, and a food obsessed cat.
Links:
https://www.facebook.com/augustkert
Buy Links:
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bring-me-to-life-sat-aug-01-00-00-00-cdt-2015-kert/1121848545?ean=9781619229907
Excerpt:
She stopped and looked at me with a raised brow. “You don’t trust me?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She smiled. “I’m guessing that’s why I got a scaler instead of a knife. Too dangerous?”
“Yes.”
She ran the tool over the fish again. “Back there you picked me as much as I picked you. So tell me, why do you stare at me?”
There were so many ways to explain myself, but because communication wasn’t my strongest skill, I had to keep it simple. “You fight.”
“Yeah, well, I have to. Your kind makes it hard to relax and go to the beach.”
Another breeze. Her hair danced around her face. “What’s name?”
“Me?”
That strand needed me to put it in its place. “Yes.” I lifted my hand an inch, wanting to feel her hair’s soft texture.
She laughed. “I see. You going to think your way into my head? Play mind games? Sweep me off my feet? Not a chance. You lay one finger on me and this scaler will end up in an uncomfortable place.”
Good thing I refrained from tucking the strand. Something told me she had a creative definition of “uncomfortable place”. I dropped my hand on the table to feel the fish scales. Gritty. “No. Curious about humans.”
She eyed my hand, and I knew that if she had a knife it would already be buried in my hand. Or my head. She removed another line of scales. “Okay, I’ll play along. My name is Lyric.”
She had such an unusual name. I said, “Anson.”
She stopped and peered at me. “I’m surprised you have names. Didn’t think you were deep enough to call each other anything beyond groans. Then again, I didn’t think you could talk so all my logic is gone.”
I shook my head. It was a misconception that zombies were mindless. True, when the disease first spreads through the body, we lose our minds. But as we evolve into zombies, we need a sense of normalcy even if very few admit it.
“I like fight.”
Lyric ran the scaler over the fish one last time. She submerged the fish in the pail and brushed at its body. The remaining scales vanished.
She stood and examined the fish. For the first time I noticed a small incision in the top of its head. The idea that this fish had died the same way I could sent shivers up my spine.
Lyric said, “If you like that I fight, why don’t I show you a few moves and end it with a knife to your temple?”
“Not…good idea.”
“I like it.”
Holding on to the fish’s head, she jammed the scaler into its lower stomach. Blood ran from its body as she cut up to its head. Lyric pulled open the body, reached in and yanked its guts out. Her thumbs slid inside the body, causing more blood to come out. When she was finished she threw the fish into the pail of water and picked up another fish.
I could see the warrior in her bubbling to the surface. “What you eat?”
Without looking at me, she asked, “My favorite food?”
“Yes.”
She stopped and focused ahead of us. Her eyes became distant while she was in thought. After a minute she said, “Probably chicken. Why?”
“I try to…get some.”
She faked a laugh. “Right. So, why would you do that for me?”
“You help me.”
Lyric set the scaler down and turned to me. “Are you serious? You actually think I’m going to help you?”
I nodded.
“You’re crazy. You can go fuck yourself. Or your dead friends.”
“Not dead.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Not dead? Why is your skin gray?”
I didn’t understand many of the mechanics of how it worked, but I was well aware the symptoms. Certain aspects of our lives plagued us—rotting—and it was only natural for us to be curious about our existence.
“Disease. Breathing not easy. Can die…when stabbed.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve had plenty of target practice. But you’re something different. I didn’t know you could talk.” She chewed on her lip. “So you’re saying that you actually breathe?”