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(An excerpt from the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.)


"We have to hide in the ship's hold, I reckon," Brad said. "We done run out of places to hide."


"And trap our damn selves?" Marklin snarled back. "Getting cornered is just shameful way to die. I say we charge the bastards. Take the fights straight to 'em."


"You're going to need this torch, darling," Helena said to Brad, handing him the flaming brand and leaning in to kiss him desperately.


Beyond the darkened windows, the squirg zombies groaned and roared, waiting impatiently for their next meal.

(...)

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