THE TESTIMONIAL OF P.T. LYFANTOD — Zombies

TWENTY ONE

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UNFINISHED BUSINESS           “Caird, is that—What the hell is going on?  Jesus Christ, your throat!  Oh my god.  Oh… Flint.”             Horse’s words, tumbling out as she realized, piece by horrible piece, what in fact was going on, washed over Lyfantod without reaching him.  His attention was held by the flickering blue flame that was now dancing around his killer’s head, providing the newly-arrived detectives with some much needed illumination of the grisly tableau.  And by the fact that several pints of his blood had leaked out into the snow.    ...

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TWELVE

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A THORNY SITUATION           Lyfantod stepped out into the empty lobby, the bottoms of his boots clicking loudly on the black-and-white checkered tiles.  They had been polished, but not recently.  "Hello?" he called tentatively.  His voice echoed back to him off, the smooth, aging walls.  They were tiled to look like green brick.  No one answered him.  Typical.             "Feels like I've wandered onto the set for the Wizard of Oz," Lyfantod murmured to himself.  "Hail Marcher, the All Powerful."  Indeed, the room did have a certain mood of mysticism about it.  Mysticism wrapped in early...

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NINE

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ORANGE JUICE & OTHER THINGS           After he’d taken her money, Cornelia Mus had offered P.T Lyfantod another drink.  Grateful though he was, he’d declined.  He'd tipped his glass to her as he downed what was left of his first, made some lame comment about never wasting good whiskey, and left with a warm burning in his gut.           The bouncer outside handed back his gun without comment.  Apparently he’d already received his orders.  Lyfantod thanked him, climbed into a cab that was idling by the curb just for him, and gave the...

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