Undead L.A. 1 Read Online Free

that he should have called her when he landed and explained the change in his work schedule. She'd be expecting him later in the day. He picked up his cell phone and saw that it had no signal. The battery was low too, despite being plugged in all night, because of the power outage. Instinctively he grabbed his iPod. Anger coursed through him as he saw it, too, was almost completely drained now. Listening to his own mix before take off was also one of his rituals, on the rare occasions he flew first. He'd made a fast paced rock mix to get him pumped up for the first leg of the trip. Then later, when it was time for another pilot to relieve him, he'd listen to the chanting of Tibetan monks as he fell asleep. Now all that was out the window.
    “Looks like the day is going to be a total loss,” he grumbled. He picked up the phone to call downstairs and complain, but the line was dead.
    “ Guess I won't be talking to Theresa today after all,” he said. He reached over and picked up his complimentary bag of morning coffee. He stared from his hand to the one-cup brewer like a caveman trying to figure out how to use a computer. Slowly the realization dawned on him that he would not be enjoying a fresh cup of piping hot coffee to start his day.
    “ Great,” he said aloud to the empty room, his frustration growing. “Just great. No shower. No cell service. No morning news. No iPod, and now no coffee. This is just perfect. Looks like it's going to be a great fucking day.”
    He threw the coffee bag hard against the wall. It opened on impact, spraying fragrant grounds across the bed and nightstand.
     
    *** *** ***
     
    Edgar never bothered to check out. It was a habit he'd gotten into when he was in college that had stuck with him. When he was ready to go, he simply walked out and shut the door behind him. Over the years he'd learned to take the keys with him, in case he left something. Later when the bill came in he'd compare it to his check-in receipts. So far he'd never had a problem with being overcharged. Usually he just breezed past the front door in uniform with his aviator glasses on, and didn't bother to acknowledge the employee working the front desk – if they even spoke to him. But as he stepped out the door that morning he decided it was time to have a quick chat with management about the falling standards, and maybe ask for a discount on his room.
    “They can do better than this,” he said. “A lot better.”
    The hallway was dark. The power was out in the whole building. Edgar wondered if it was just this block or all of Los Angeles. He made his way to the stairs. The emergency lighting was on. He held the rail cautiously as he walked down and exited the Radisson, ending up out in front of the hotel instead of in the lobby as he'd planned. He stepped out into the bright sun with his carryon. The door shut behind him and in the same instant his heart leaped into his throat and his mouth went dry. All around him were signs of total chaos. It looked like some psychotic artist had painted the parking lot and grounds with buckets of human blood and entrails. He looked down next to his foot and saw a woman's hand with her engagement ring still on. It looked like it had been chewed off at the wrist. He turned it over with the polished tip of his shoe, and it fell in the grass near the planter. His eyes wandered from it to what looked like a human rib cage resting in the valet parking next to a blood soaked Cadillac Escalade with the doors left wide open. Edgar slowly walked over to it until he could make out the sound of the car door binging. The keys were still in the ignition. The carcass next to it looked like it had been torn apart by savage beasts with dull teeth. There were bite marks on top of the ripped flesh as well as on some of the intestines drooling out the bottom where the stomach and legs should be. Edgar saw that there was hair growing out of some of the skin, and figured it didn't belong to the woman