Excerpt: Zombies in Manhattan II: Zombies Come Back! the Book of the Movie!

"I will...crush...YOU!"
The Zombie ATTACKED!

I. Diot woke up. He muttered to himself in fear. Zombies were in his dream again. Zombies were always in his dreams. He shook a fist at the sky.

“WHY?!?!?!” he shouted as loudly as he could. “WHY ME?!”

He did not expect an answer—a person like I. Diot was used to being ignored—and he did not get one. But, then, really, what did he expect, shouting at the sky? The sky, blue as it was, except when it was raining, or twilight, or during the night, when it was black and sprinkled with stars, was not known for giving answers to fools, or to speak at all, for that matter.

I must get sleep, I. Diot thought to himself, but he knew that as soon as he slept, the zombies would be waiting. Zombies were always waiting. I. Diot sank into uneasy sleep. Sure enough, the zombies were waiting.

This is what he dreamed:

A tall plain man with a short-cut coat and a walking cane half his height stood on the far corner of the street. He wore his top hat over gelled brown hair, but the gel had become wet and trickled down his face. The tall man did not seem to notice.

And there was a reason.

He was…

…DEAD!

Between I. Diot and the tall plain man ran a wide cobblestone street. It was the same street he had seen every night when he slept, but this time the grey stones were slick with blood. The blood of men like the tall plain man, whose hairs had been slicked with gel, and the gels loosened in the rain to run down their faces....

No. That had nothing to do with the street being bloody. The truth was that—

A ZOMBIE jumped off the building above I. Diot. I. Diot gave a blood-curdling scream.

And woke up again. He opened his mouth to scream at the sky. But he found he could not move his mouth. His muscles had gone slack. WHY?!?!?!, he shouted inside his own head. WHY?!?!?!