Book Series: The Z Word, Book One of Apocalypse Babes
Job: aspiring actress
Height: 5′ 5”
Weight: 15 lbs over her ideal
Hair Color: bottle blonde over caramel brown
Eye Color: blue contacts over dark brown
From (Location): West Hollywood, though she wasn’t born there
Significant Other: unrequited crush on her bestie, Gareth
Signature Move: denial, and eventually lethal force with a pistol
Kill Highlights: a handful of zombies, with reluctance
Enemies: her past Favorite Pastime: pretending she and Gareth actually have a future
Other Facts: Seffy may seem like a bimbo, but she might have a secret weapon that gives her an edge. Choose wisely.
*Author’s note: There’s an old saying that fighting zombies reveal more about one’s character than it does the zombies (for shizzle!). Let’s watch Seffy in action to see what’s revealed. If we ask her to her face, she’ll just prevaricate, anyway:
I can’t believe I’m here.
How is is possible to end up almost 30 years in the past when all I wanted was a friggin’ tan? Verity’s last words still ring in my ears. “Seffy, it’s not the end of the world.”
Well, it damn well feels like it.
And now I have to deal with zombies. I’m not even really sure they exist, except I don’t know what else to call the things that keep coming after me and my friends, trying to bite us. At first I ran from them, but then Gareth—my dreamy crush who always looks out for me—gave me a stick to hit the things with.
It wasn’t much of an improvement.
One of the new guys—Trent, who was hot if you had a thing for the sweaty, shaggy type—seemed to like killing the zombies with an ax. I stayed well away, not wanting that awful rust-colored blood and guts to stain my pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. I’d already lost the rhinestone zipper pull and didn’t need more damage done. It wasn’t like I could get another suit in 1980.
I stared at the pink sun hovering in the lavender sky. Wherever we were, it was no where near West Hollywood.
God, how was it possible we’d time-traveled? It was almost as unbelievable as the damn zombies. I kept thinking about that last conversation with Verity—who I pretty much hate because she wants Gareth for herself—and remembered she’d kicked over a can of diet Rockstar. Could that have hit the frayed wire by the outlet and caused an explosion sending random people through a wormhole or something? Except it’s mostly me and my other friends who appeared in the desert, and we weren’t even together at the time of the blast.
Another zombie—I can’t believe I was using the Z word—suddenly appeared, wearing a silky landscape shirt and blue knit pants. He deserved to die just for that. What was it with the 70s disco fashions of the creatures? I jabbed at it ineffectually with the stick. Its bood-stained teeth snapped at me, making nausea roil in my gut. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn’t keep anything down, because the creature would’ve made me hurl if I’d had anything in my stomach.
Suddenly its head exploded. As the greasy blood splattered near the tips of my Pilates shoes, I looked over and saw my friend Addison lowering the shotgun, a smirk on her face, her red hair in wild disarray. She probably did that just so I’d get covered in bodily fluids. Like I needed that.
I glanced across at expanse of nameless desert and saw my other friends doing their best against the ill-dressed horde. Lani, her flowered dress confirming her xippie status, was beginning to sing an old disco hit at the tippy top of her thready soprano. Could this get any crazier?
Even stranger, the zombies seemed to pause and listen to her. Good, because I needed the break.
“Hey, blondie!” Trent yelled at me. “Are you going to just stand there while everyone else deals?”
I ignored him. He was one of the newcomers who looked like he had an angle. I’ve seen his type before at industry parties in the Valley. Maybe I wasn’t much good at fighting zombies, but I knew how to survive the the human debris who exploited Hollywood hopefuls in between drug binges.
Anyway, Gareth would save me. At least he always had. Since I’d met him in the sixth grade, along with Addison and Lani, he’d always had my back. I watched him even now, taking out one zombie after another like some kind of ninja. Maybe I should step up my game to impress him. But a stick wasn’t such a great weapon. I glanced over at Trent’s ax, wondering if I’d have the guts to really hit something with it. I’d already failed miserably with a shotgun.
Hopefully, between Gareth’s fighting skills, Addison’s aim, and Lani’s musical magic, the zombie threat would come to an end and I could get back to the other worries coursing through my veins.
Sweat dotted my brow. Maybe after this was over, Gareth would return to my side, put his arm around me, and set the world back on its axis.
Maybe he would forgive me.
Then again, after my behavior of the night before, maybe he wouldn’t.
Because getting drunk and making out with a guy who’d been infected by a zombie tended to put a damper on one’s relationship.
And maybe one’s survival.
The Z Word follows Seffy Carter and her longtime friends Gareth, Addison and Lani. The four besties share a past dysfunctional and dark enough to keep them bound together under do-over identities. But rends develop in their relationships from the flesh-eating pressures of ending up in 1980, in a Montana desert, surrounded by zombies wearing dated disco duds.
About the Author:
Bella Street likes write romance with a touch of weird. And eat Cheetos. The Z Word is currently free pretty much anywhere ebooks are sold.
Rachel, whom you might know as Parajunkee, is the blog owner of parajunkee.com and the design blog parajunkee.net. To make matters even more confusing she is now a published author under the pen name of Gillian Zane. Rachel has been blogging for over eight years, designing / web programming for over fifteen, but her real love, reading, has been her favorite hobby since childhood. Rachel has won numerous awards for her writing, the blogs she has created and her design work. If you want to check out more about her books click "The Books" on the navigation bar at the top of the page.