Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught Read Online Free Page B
Author: Drew Brown
Tags: England, supernatural, London, Zombies, undead, fast zombies, United Kingdom, reanimated, slow zombies
bankers and city workers who were trying too hard to entertain clients. Did I say they were bankers? I guess that pretty much sums ’em all up nicely…
On one of the two-seater tables closest to the bar, right next to the exterior glass wall, sat a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. Her dark hair was shoulder-length and curved inwards at the bottom, almost touching the delicate straps of the red dress she wore. Her skin was sun-kissed with an even tan. She was alone, although in the center of her table there was a bottle of champagne in an ornate bucket of ice. Candles with wax-lined stems burned on either side of it. Her eyes looked along the Thames River to the west, watching the dark waters flowing far below.
Budd glanced at his watch. It was shortly after 9:30pm.
By 10:00pm, he realized that he was no closer to being seated. Most of the people who had been sat around the bar had been taken into the restaurant, while many others timed their entrance through the main doors perfectly and arrived the moment the waiters finished preparing their table. Either way, none of the seats were empty for long.
Budd was on his third Scotch, and the woman in the red dress was still alone, her bottle of champagne unopened. The menu lay untouched on the table.
After his fifth double Scotch, at 10:30pm, Budd left his sofa chair and walked down the steps into the restaurant. He headed to the table occupied by the woman in the red dress. Even when he stopped and was standing opposite her, she did not seem to notice him. “Excuse me, Miss, but I’m waiting to use a table. And, without wanting to appear unkind, it appears you are as well. Did you get stood up?”
From a distance, she looked beautiful.
You know, in the sultry, mysterious way that lone women can across bars and restaurants. Normally, though—and heck, I’m sure you’ve had this happen to you—when you get up close, things don’t seem quite as appealing. Like looking over the edge of the Grand Canyon, admiring the great view, but then finding it’s full of rubbish at the bottom.
She, however, couldn’t have been less like that. She had a smile that could light up a room, and dark eyes that managed to hold my attention, even though there was plenty else to admire. Hold on, am I really saying this stuff?
She was hot, smokin’ hot, and that’s all you need to know.
The rest can come later…
“Stood up?” the young woman repeated. Her voice was thick with a French accent. “No, no, Monsieur , my boyfriend is only late.”
“Late, yeah? Listen, lady, I’ve been watching you for over an hour, so he’s pretty late,” Budd said, raising his left eyebrow as he spoke. He leaned forward and folded his arms across the back of the empty wooden chair. “How ’bout you let me buy you dinner? I’ve got no table and you’ve got no company. It’ll be doing us both a favor.”
The woman in the red dress shook her head, making her curved hair bounce around at the sides of her face. She smiled nervously. “No, no, Monsieur . My boyfriend will be here soon.”
“Well, I asked, and this place stops taking orders at 11:00pm. So I’m gonna go sit back over there,” Budd pointed to his sofa at the bar, “but at 10:45pm, if your boyfriend hasn’t shown up, I’m gonna come back over here and buy you dinner. Speak to you soon, sweetheart.”
With a smile, Budd went back to the bar and ordered another double Scotch. As soon as he was sitting down on the sofa, he looked over to the woman in the red dress and made a show of tapping the face of his wristwatch.
She looked away quickly.
8
Having initially ignored Budd and instead gazed out across the Thames, the woman in the red dress did glance over to the bar more than once as the minutes ticked by. Every time she did, Budd met her eyes with a smile. At 10:45pm, he drained the last of his tumbler and walked back to her table. He offered his hand.
“I’m William Ashby, but my
On one of the two-seater tables closest to the bar, right next to the exterior glass wall, sat a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. Her dark hair was shoulder-length and curved inwards at the bottom, almost touching the delicate straps of the red dress she wore. Her skin was sun-kissed with an even tan. She was alone, although in the center of her table there was a bottle of champagne in an ornate bucket of ice. Candles with wax-lined stems burned on either side of it. Her eyes looked along the Thames River to the west, watching the dark waters flowing far below.
Budd glanced at his watch. It was shortly after 9:30pm.
By 10:00pm, he realized that he was no closer to being seated. Most of the people who had been sat around the bar had been taken into the restaurant, while many others timed their entrance through the main doors perfectly and arrived the moment the waiters finished preparing their table. Either way, none of the seats were empty for long.
Budd was on his third Scotch, and the woman in the red dress was still alone, her bottle of champagne unopened. The menu lay untouched on the table.
After his fifth double Scotch, at 10:30pm, Budd left his sofa chair and walked down the steps into the restaurant. He headed to the table occupied by the woman in the red dress. Even when he stopped and was standing opposite her, she did not seem to notice him. “Excuse me, Miss, but I’m waiting to use a table. And, without wanting to appear unkind, it appears you are as well. Did you get stood up?”
From a distance, she looked beautiful.
You know, in the sultry, mysterious way that lone women can across bars and restaurants. Normally, though—and heck, I’m sure you’ve had this happen to you—when you get up close, things don’t seem quite as appealing. Like looking over the edge of the Grand Canyon, admiring the great view, but then finding it’s full of rubbish at the bottom.
She, however, couldn’t have been less like that. She had a smile that could light up a room, and dark eyes that managed to hold my attention, even though there was plenty else to admire. Hold on, am I really saying this stuff?
She was hot, smokin’ hot, and that’s all you need to know.
The rest can come later…
“Stood up?” the young woman repeated. Her voice was thick with a French accent. “No, no, Monsieur , my boyfriend is only late.”
“Late, yeah? Listen, lady, I’ve been watching you for over an hour, so he’s pretty late,” Budd said, raising his left eyebrow as he spoke. He leaned forward and folded his arms across the back of the empty wooden chair. “How ’bout you let me buy you dinner? I’ve got no table and you’ve got no company. It’ll be doing us both a favor.”
The woman in the red dress shook her head, making her curved hair bounce around at the sides of her face. She smiled nervously. “No, no, Monsieur . My boyfriend will be here soon.”
“Well, I asked, and this place stops taking orders at 11:00pm. So I’m gonna go sit back over there,” Budd pointed to his sofa at the bar, “but at 10:45pm, if your boyfriend hasn’t shown up, I’m gonna come back over here and buy you dinner. Speak to you soon, sweetheart.”
With a smile, Budd went back to the bar and ordered another double Scotch. As soon as he was sitting down on the sofa, he looked over to the woman in the red dress and made a show of tapping the face of his wristwatch.
She looked away quickly.
8
Having initially ignored Budd and instead gazed out across the Thames, the woman in the red dress did glance over to the bar more than once as the minutes ticked by. Every time she did, Budd met her eyes with a smile. At 10:45pm, he drained the last of his tumbler and walked back to her table. He offered his hand.
“I’m William Ashby, but my
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