All The Right Ingredients Are There
In . . .
Dead Wrong
Here we are,
back in the blood-n’-guts Nomfest that is Greg Stumbo’s Generation Zed series. And if you’re hoping for a lucky break,
here’s NOT the place to be.
As the blurb so clearly intimates:
******
You’d think there’d
be a Third time's a charm –
right? Okay, so attempts one and two were a bust, and if you haven't learned
anything from the first two, hopefully this one will help. It’s not like
there’s a rulebook for staying alive during an apocalypse.
Spoiler alert – this is the third book, so if
it's the first one you found, you might want to hunt the first two down to get
caught up. If you can't find them right now, I guess you can start here, and
play catch up...
******
And that’s a
rather poignant indicator: “Playing catch up.”
Because that’s
all our dungeon masters of disaster seem to do. Don’t get me wrong, they come
up with a pretty good scheme. But executing it? Let’s just say, it dies a death
before they even get started. Yes, how to focus people’s attention when priority
number one is looking out for yourself. (Something our ineptitude bunch is
still trying to fathom).
It’s as if
the guys have gathered all the ingredients for the world’s best cocktail, yet
all they manage to do is mix a rather weak cordial . . . or should that be
uncordial. Because what follows is an uncivil, disorganized, hit-and-miss rout of
a tale that leaves our would-be entrepreneurs feeling both shaken and stirred.
In fact, were I to take the cocktail analogy a step further, you could say the
gang are so unorganized, they’re like an eight-fingered ‘flair’ barman trying
to juggle mixers. And all they actually to do is beat themselves about the head
and body with a Clover Club riddled in Rusty Nails until their Gimlets fall
out. (Get it?)
Nobody’s
interested in what they’re doing. Each little community is either too
suspicious or too wrapped up in their own personal struggle for survival to
care about bartering. Unless the goodies are left out for the taking. . .
And as the
guys find out to their cost, there are plenty of ‘patrons’ out there who are
willing to do just that. And tips are not included.
Yes, it
would seem the initial fizz of survival is falling flat, and no amount of
umbrellas will deflect the flack, proving there’s nothing really Cosmopolitan at
all about this Zombie-town. A Dark & Stormy night is coming. Will the guys
live to see another Tequila Sunrise?
You’ll see,
in a Bloody Mary of a story that doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste.
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