The Spy's Little Zonbi Read Online Free Page A

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    The clerk, who was observing Stoney tickle the writhing girl just outside the big glass storefront, was having a hard time making change with his ancient black fingers.
    â€œ Daz one fine use of Ole Glory,” the man said under his breath, his yellow eyes flashing.
    â€œ Can you give me directions?” Chase pointed at the newspaper.
    Climbing behind the hard plastic steering wheel, Chase was careful not to spill his gigantic cup of raspberry slush.
    â€œ I wanna check something out,” he told his passengers, but they were oblivious, again busy groping and slurping one another. The Times was just two quick right turns off the highway, according to the clerk, and he wanted a fast look before heading back toward the ocean. Among the sandy towels and boogie boards in the trunk was a batch of cover letters, a few résumés, and sets of student newspaper clippings left over from his summer internship applications. Why not hit this place?
    After three years of covering the who, what, where, when, how, and whys of grade-cheating scandals and anti-Iran marches on the Capital, Chase had been rejected by all the big-time papers and attracted only the mild interest of crappy little rags that wouldn’t do much for a post-graduation résumé. The crappy rags were just looking for convenient ways to get coverage while their regular reporters were on vacation during the typically slow summer months in non-resort towns.
    The Daily Times ’ lot was nearly full of reporters and photographers meeting deadlines, as Chase backed into a visitor’s spot to sit comfortably and get a good look at the heartbeat of the town. Stoney and the pretty girl continued their softcore sex acts. It sounded like someone was eating a ripe peach behind Chase’s head.
    The sprawling one-story brick building was squat and ugly under the glare of the hot sun, and yet Chase’s stomach churned with envy as an old blue Honda Accord sped into the lot on squealing bald tires. There was an awful, metal-on-pavement thud as it bottomed out, screeching to a halt in the last open spot directly in front of the employee entrance. The thirty-something-year-old guy jumped out of the driver’s seat and raced to the building, fumbling with a set of keys, the car door banging open on its hinges and slamming shut behind him. Chase saw the yellow pencil behind one ear and in the back left pocket of his corduroy pants the narrow white reporters’ notebook, curved from being sat upon for the hurried ride to make this deadline. Chase had burned through dozens of the same brand of notebook for the school paper, not one filled with anything of real consequence.
    Seconds later, the scene was over. The heavy door slammed behind the harried reporter, leaving only the ticking sound of his cooling Honda.
    Had there been a fire? Was he coming from the courthouse where a murderer had been brought in for a first appearance? Were the words scribbled in his notebook less than an hour away from becoming some huge banner headline announcing a suspect arrested for a string of sexual assaults? Chase’s hands were cramped from clenching his own grooved steering wheel.
    â€œ Wow.” He relaxed his grip and looked up into the rearview mirror, where Stoney had his right hand casually cupped under the girl’s bikini top. She’d turned her face up to catch the rays, a small bead of sweat drawing a line from one temple, oblivious or not caring who saw her getting felt up in the back of a convertible.
    â€œ That dude really had to take a dump,” Stoney announced, struggling with a pack of matches to light a joint one-handed.
    â€œ Yeah, maybe.” Chase climbed out to rummage through the trunk for his résumé. His heart was pounding.

Chapter 3
    T here was a coin flip that decided an awful lot.
    The quarter spun through the haze of bong smoke, parting the molecules with ease, then clacked off the ceiling and was lost among the