Zom-B Gladiator Read Online Free

worked in different ways. I studied his paintings for a long time, then visited a few galleries to compare them with the work of other artists.
    I started looking through the books ingallery shops. I wouldn’t have dared go into such places in the old days. I’d have been afraid that the staff would laugh at me, or think I was just there to steal. But now there are only zombies to bear witness, and they couldn’t care less about idle browsers.
    I hadn’t planned to read any of the books in detail, but the more I learnt, the more I could appreciate the pictures in them, aswell as those hanging on the walls of the galleries. I lugged a couple of art books back to flick through, and soon my shelves started to fill up. There’s no problem finding new volumes—here are loads of shops in London and they’re open for business twenty-four hours a day, no credit card or cash required, and only the odd zombie bookseller or two to contend with.
    Dr Oystein likes us torest at night, to lie in our beds and act as if we’re asleep. I read during that time, rather than just lie in the dark and count the seconds as they slowly tick by. No complaints from the others about my reading light—a few of them read as well, or play hand-held video games.
    I used to be a slow reader but I’ve been speeding up recently. In the beginning I tended to choose books with lotsof pictures in them, but now I’ve moved on to thick textbooks. I don’t finish everything that I start, but when a book grabs my interest, I can plough through it pretty niftily.
    So what am I in the mood for today? I study the titles, pick up a few, read the blurb on the back covers, then replace them. Until I come to The Complete Letters of Vincent Van Gogh . I don’t recall bringing thisback, and it’s a monster, so I’m sure I would have remembered. Frowning, I slide it free of the books around it and a note falls out. It’s from Carl.
    I saw you reading a book about Van Gogh. My dad had a copy of this in his library and often raved about it. I thought you might like to give it a go. Let me know if it’s any good and I might try it myself.
    I scowl at the note. I don’tlike it when people do nice things for me. I never know how to react. I suppose I’ll have to thank Carl now—if I don’t, I’ll look like a mean-spirited cow. Why couldn’t he have just told me about the book and let me find it for myself? Bloody do-gooder.
    I think about dumping the book in the bin, but that would make me look childish and ungrateful. Besides, Van Gogh is one of my favouriteartists and it sounds like a good read. Grumbling softly, I head to bed and settle down for a few hours of solitary reading.
    I quickly get into the letters and time flies by. Carl has picked a winner. On the one hand that annoys me, because it means I won’t be able to jeer at him for giving me a piece of crap to read. But on the other hand I’m delighted to have discovered a brilliant newbook, and I soon forget about Carl and having to say thank you and everything else.
    A soft voice brings me back to the real world. ‘I never thought I’d see B Smith lost in a book.’
    I jump slightly – I had no idea that anyone had entered the room – and glance up. It’s my old teacher, Mr Burke, standing in the doorway, beaming at me. ‘I’ve always had a soft spot for nutters who cut theirears off,’ I growl, carefully closing the book and setting it aside. ‘Besides, this is a great read. I might have studied harder if I’d been pushed towards these sorts of books in school.’
    ‘No,’ Burke laughs. ‘You wouldn’t have given it a chance. You were a busy girl, so many slacker friends, so many things not to do with them. They wouldn’t have been impressed if you’d started readingbooks instead of hanging out with them on street corners.’
    Burke crosses the room, picks up the book and flicks through it. He looks much older than he did in school, bags under his eyes, hair almost completely grey