New Paranormal Suspense Thriller for Review: Cocaine Zombies by Scott A. Lerner

Cocaine Zombies Scott A. Lerner will be touring November 5 – 30 2012 with his paranormal suspense thriller, Cocaine Zombies.

Samuel Roberts, a small-town lawyer in Urbana, Illinois, is contacted by a prospective client accused of selling cocaine. Nothing Sam hasn’t handled before. Or is it? Thomas is accompanied by a mysterious and exotic beauty named Chloe. Who is she, why is she paying for Thomas’s defense, and why is the accused so antsy around her?

Soon after Sam takes on the case he is plagued by terrible nightmares. Only, in these nightmares, when he dreams of death, people die. Realizing that he is out of his depth, Sam enlists the help of his friend, Bob Sizemore. Bob is oddly insightful about the supernatural and deeply suspicious of big business and the government. Sam and Bob soon discover that a major German pharmaceutical company has been using human guinea pigs to test a highly addictive and dangerous derivative of cocaine first developed in Nazi Germany. Combined with ancient herbs provided by a Voodoo priest, the substance has become increasingly addictive and dangerous.

After Thomas’s head shows up in Sam’s refrigerator, suspicion naturally falls on him. Now he has no choice but to face the forces of evil head on. But how do a small-town lawyer and a computer geek defeat an enemy with the power to enslave mankind?

206 pages

You can visit Scott online at www.scottlerner.camelpress.com.

Book Excerpt:

The house reeked with the metallic odor of blood mixed with urine, sweat and rotten meat. I fought back the urge to vomit. From the rafters I could see the hanging carcass of a headless goat. Below it was a large copper cauldron to catch the blood. The contents of the cauldron were moving, and I involuntarily shuddered when I realized the small ripples were caused by maggots. The head of the goat was gone and a large butcher’s saw lay on the floor. Mercifully the entrails of the goat had also been removed. Everywhere I heard the soft hum of flies.

Hanging on the back wall was an African mask. It looked ancient. It was carved from a single piece of dark black wood. The face was half animal, half human. On either side of the mask two large wooden snakes were crawling. A slit had been cut in the wood for each eye and another for the mouth. The wood was dull and covered with a thin layer of dirt. The teeth in the visage were sharp and pointed. It lacked the friendly decorative look one finds at the local Pier One Imports. This mask was intended solely for ceremonial use.

In the far corner nearest the kitchen door stood a statue of The Virgin Mary. It was white plaster, the type one would expect to find as a lawn ornament in Mexico City. Next to the statue was a porcelain dinner plate containing a bloody piece of meat. I guessed it was the heart of a small animal, but I wasn’t going to get close enough to check. The entire room was bordered by candles, which provided the only light other than from the windows.

Blood was everywhere. Footprints painted the floor with various shades of red. Some were small enough to have been made by a child; others might have belonged to Thomas. It looked as though twenty people had been dancing in a large circle.

The only furniture was three plain wooden chairs, one of which was broken, and a small table with a dirty towel for a tablecloth. On the table was a crucifix, a few old square-cut nails and a wooden bowl half-filled with shotgun shells.

“You don’t have a bathroom by any chance?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“No,” he said, putting the shotgun down. He must have noted the relief on my face.

“You know, it’s illegal to own a gun with a felony conviction,” I said.

“That is the least of my problems,” he said. “My dumb ass lawyer already killed me, so what do I care about anything else?”

“Anyone I know?”

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here so I can talk to my ancestors before I get to see them firsthand?”

“What did I do?”

“You talked to me without Chloe. I’m nothing alone, I live only to serve her. I took a blood oath that covers my family, my daughter, my girlfriend. They are all dead now.”

I tried to change the subject, “I got the lab tests back.”

“So?”

“You were selling cocaine, but it was cooked with something else.”

He went through a door and returned with two bottles of cold beer. He must have had a cooler; I was sure this house didn’t have electricity. I took a beer, even though the thought of ingesting anything from this house made my skin crawl. I tried not to laugh when I noticed it was a Dixie Blackened Voodoo Lager.

“The chemist in Springfield can’t identify the substance,” I said.

“Then talk to the chefs,” he said, “but they are people you don’t want to fuck with.”

“It’s Chloe, isn’t it? Why don’t you tell the police and make a deal?”

“You don’t have a clue as to how far out of your depth you are. Chloe is not human and not a chemist.”

“Well, maybe she can identify who the maker is?” I offered.

“There are worse things than jail. Some worse than death. I will find out soon and firsthand. I suspect, so will you,” he said, ignoring the question.

“The crack you were selling contained almost no cocaine, so maybe the State will go easy on you.”

“Do you think I care? Unlike you I know who and what we are dealing with. That knowledge provides no comfort, only terror.” Thomas’s voice was trembling.

“Then tell me. Let me help.”

* * * * *

If you would like to review Cocaine Zombies, please fill out the form below or email Dorothy Thompson at thewriterslife(at)gmail.com. Please mention which date would work for you. Scott is also available for interviews and guest posts.

Deadline for inquiries end October 25 or until the tour is filled. Thank you!

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