By Michael Logan
If you happen to imagine you've visible all of it -- WORLD WAR Z, THE WALKING DEAD-- you haven't noticeable something like this. From the twisted mind of Michael Logan comes Apocalypse Cow, a narrative approximately 3 not likely heroes who needs to shop Britain . . . from a rampaging horde of ZOMBIE COWS! Forget the cud. they need blood. It begun with a cow that simply wouldn't die. it is going to develop into a scourge that reworked Britain's farm animals into sneezing, slavering, flesh-craving four-legged zombies. And if that wasn't undesirable sufficient, the destiny of the state turns out to leisure at the shoulders of 3 not likely heroes: an abattoir employee whose love existence is non-existent because of the stench of loss of life that adheres to him, a teenage vegan with eczema and a peculiar weigh down on his maths instructor, and a clumsy journalist who wouldn't realize a scoop if she tripped over one. As the state descends into chaos, can they pool their assets, liberate a medication, and store the world? Three losers.Overwhelming odds.One consequence . . . Yup, we're screwed.
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Extra info for Apocalypse Cow
We had it hot, then. He had paid for it with his own money, had not touched a penny of the college fund; he had me there. "But I swore, if he insisted upon taking the fragment from me, that I should report him to Greek authorities who watched that no Greek treasures should go from the country without government sanction. "That held him. He desisted, even tried to square himself with me. Probably Lutz merely delayed the issue until we should be safely out of Greece. For myself, I was firmly resolved that I should finally prevail upon him; and I did not doubt that I should publish my article and either return the vase to Greece or hand it over to my college museum.
Springing to it, I gave a mighty pull. It opened easily! I snatched my cap from the rough floor and hurried into the warm sunlight. A short distance from me a man came trudging along. He was a powerful looking fellow of middle age and was dressed in coarse working clothes. " I shouted, as we drew closer. "Sure. It's haunted," he replied. He looked hard at me. " I related my experience. " he muttered. "But I ain't surprised. " I demanded. " He shuddered, his white face staring at the cabin. " he whispered.
She yelped and ran. An eighth of a mile farther along the road Hubbard turned in and drove his team to a big barn. He fed his stock. It was after six when he entered the house. This was a structure that, by comparison with the gigantic barn in the rear, seemed pigmy-like. A sallow, flat-chested woman, with a wisp of hair twisted into a knot, took from Hubbard the two pails of milk he carried. She set them in the kitchen. The two exchanged no words. Hubbard strode to the washstand, his boots thumping the floor, and performed his ablutions.
Apocalypse Cow by Michael Logan