Zombified (Episode 2): Yankee Heights Read Free Page B

now or never , something inside told him. 
    "No, I'm not."  His mouth became the Sahara.  "All right, here it is: you distract me.  I can't think straight around you.  Do you wear some sort of pheromone perfume?"
    She smiled that heart-stopping, knee-shaking smile of perfection.
    "Was that a compliment, mister?"  She teased, winking sidelong at him.
    "See!" He pointed at her.  "You are too damn beautiful to go winking at me.  Every time you smile or laugh or… wink, I get jelly legs."
    Good thing there's nobody behind me , Matty thought.  The sandwich chef at the workstation glanced over; Matty saw him shake his head.  She probably gets hit on all the time .  His heart sank.  I'm just a number .  Matty glanced at his order stub.  Number fourteen, to be exact .
    "That's really sweet," Kayla said. 
    Here comes the but …
    "Are you going to the Phi Moon house tonight?" she asked.
    I didn't hear a but , he thought.  Did she just ask about the party?   His mind reeled; his lead tongue sunk down into his throat.  Answer her, numb-nuts!
    "There isn't much else to do," Matty replied.
    Well, that's not entirely true , he thought.  There is her .
    "Then I'll see you there, okay?"
    "Kayla," Matty said in a hushed voice, "I am madly in love with you."
    She laughed a rich, throaty laugh and slapped a hand to her mouth.  "I'm so sorry!"  Kayla apologized to the two customers and her co-worker.  She leaned over the counter and whispered, "You're going to get me in trouble!  I'll see you tonight."
    "Yes you will," he replied and gave her a wink.  Judging by her reaction, Matty guessed that it came out slightly less seductive and more than a little goofy.
    He picked up the sandwich and avoided eye contact with the chef.  Are they called chefs in a sandwich shop?  Matty wondered.  Originally planning to eat in the shop, he found himself sitting in his pick-up and staring out the front window.
    "Did I just get a date with Kayla Santos?"  He grabbed the pack of smokes and fished around inside—it was empty.  "I need a smoke."  Matty started the truck and pulled out of the cramped lot, heading for the convenience store a stone's throw away.
    He was in such a daze that he barely noticed the police cruiser parked in front of the store, lights flashing.  In the back seat, a gaunt-looking woman struggled against handcuffs on her wrists and ankles; her mouth was gagged and she had a feral, animal quality to her eyes.  As Matty walked past, she slammed her face into the window, smearing blood over the glass.
    "Holy shit lady!  Are you nuts?"  He traced a circle next to his temple. 
    The store doorbell rang when Matty stepped inside.  A police offer stood behind the counter, talking with a young Hispanic man; Matty caught something about an assault and pressing charges.
    Behind the second register, a bored-looking guy in need of a haircut watched a couple of kids rummaging through the candy aisle.  Matty went to the back and grabbed two bottles of cheap wine and a six-pack of stout ale.  He placed it on the counter in front of the bored guy.
    "I'll take a pack of Yellow Spirits, too," Matty said.  He pulled out the last of his cash and counted it.  "Make that two packs, amigo."
    He had cash left for another coffee.  I'll save this for tomorrow morning .  When he climbed back into the truck, Matty stashed the three bucks in the glovebox and deposited the booze in the cluttered backseat. 
    He slapped the cigarette back on the palm of his left hand; after the obligatory five-pat pack, Matty peeled off the cellophane and pulled one out.  As he lit it up, the sound of breaking glass made him jump.
    The psycho woman's head was half out of the cruiser's rear window; bits of glass and globs of flesh and blood clung to her forehead and hair.  She pulled back and slammed the shattered window again, blasting the rest of the glass out onto the ground.
    Matty laid on the horn; the cop barreled out of the shop