Tintin

In the latest installment of Mark Tufo's zombie fallout series, Mike Talbot and his family continue their fight for survival as Eliza plots their demise.

From Mike Talbot's journal: "The End...has come and gone. This is the new beginning, the new world order and it sucks. The end for humanity came the moment the US government sent out the infected flu shots. My name is Michael Talbot and this is my journal. I'm writing this because no one's tomorrow is guaranteed, and I have to leave something behind to those who may follow."

Just when I thought life might be getting back to normal—normal being a relative word—I couldn’t have been more wrong. Marriage proposal from the Grim Reaper? Yes. Beautiful healthy baby? Yes. Friends and family safe? Yes. Ghost of my worst enemy sitting on my front porch? OMG. Yep. With the ghostly world imploding around me, I’m going to need more than superglue to repair it.

With a new job I didn’t apply for and an extended family I didn’t know I had - midlife has become somewhat problematic. Gluing ghosts back together is easy compared to my new celestial occupation. The Grim Reaper wants to put a ring on it. Tim wants to be a father. Candy Vargo has lost her damn mind, and Jennifer thinks we’re all sparkly vampires. I’ve been given an impossible task with catastrophic consequences for failure, but it wouldn’t be my midlife without another crisis.

After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I’ve decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kick-ass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I’m dating the Grim Reaper, it’s a freakin’ party. The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She’s responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me, being taken away.

Never in my 40 years did I think my new normal would be gluing body parts back onto ghosts and hosting a houseful of dead squatters. Thank God for superglue and a strong stomach. Never thought I’d date the Grim Reaper and that I would be the one to blow it. I mean, how idiotic does one have to be to get dumped by a dude who lives in Hell? Going about business as usual is not usual in any way. No one is who they seem to be...and to be honest, neither am I. What I’d known to be true has turned out to be myth. The angels are frightening, and the demons are hot.

Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good. But as they say, all good things come to an end. One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed-and-breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job - deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there.

After returning from the basajaunak lands, it's clear that Jessie and her crew need to find an alliance quickly. They need to head to Kingsley's in less than a couple of months. If they go as they are, they'll never be enough to save Austin's brother from total annihilation. Luckily, Jessie has a pile of connection requests waiting for her attention. The gargoyle cairns want to meet her. She has an opportunity to gain a little help. Unluckily, the cairns don't have much interest beyond meeting the new kid on the block.

The signs are unmistakable. Momar isn't just targeting Austin's brother. When one of Momar's grunts breaks into Austin's territory looking to grab Jessie for questioning, Jessie and her crew realize they are under fire. In order to protect themselves, it becomes obvious they need backup.

Have you ever wished your cat could talk to you? If so, allow my story to be your cautionary tale. After a stunning betrayal knocks me for a loop, I don't know who I can trust. The trail to finding Aunt Lavender is warmer than ever—but also more dangerous. Can a visit to the local psychic provide the final clue? Or will her inclinations land us in the crosshairs of the kidnapper? There's only one way to find out, and all I can hope is the crystal ball is clear enough to light the way.