Quotes from David Wellington

Vampires, real vampires, didn't nibble on the necks of nubile young virgins. They tore people to pieces and sucked the blood out of the chunks.

I will not negotiate with the undead!

A man. A dead man. A dead man with no arms.

Shit rolls downhill. Bureaucracy rolls faster.

If somebody wants to be your enemy, there's only one thing you can do. You give them exactly what they want. It confuses them and makes them wonder what you're up to.

It doesn't matter what we choose. It simply matters what we are.

You have a wife?" Caxton demanded. "I killed a vampire twenty years ago, and another one last night. I had to keep myself busy in the meantime," he told her.

Wow. So what was the vampire like?" "Pale. Big. Toothy," the trooper answered.

Do we have a plan?" she asked. "Yes," he told her. "Shoot everything that moves.

What's that smell?" Reynolds asked. That smell is the stuff they grow mushrooms in." DeForrest sniffed the air. "Shit?" he asked. Captain Suzie shrugged. "Manure.

He looked right into her and then he said, "In a second I'm going to ask you if you're okay. Your answer is extremely important. If you can keep fighting, or at least keep running, you have to say 'yes'. Otherwise we have to run away and let them win this one. Now. Are you okay?

Hey." He glanced away from her, instead looking down at the coffin. He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. "Want a peek?

Sometimes we call it 'Extra Chunky,' too." "Why's that?" she finally asked. "Because," DeForrest said, barely able to contain his mirth, "when you run over a hippy with this thing, extra chunky is about all that's left.

Say again, over," he announced. "I was saying that I'm going from here on foot," Arkeley told them. "You can follow however you choose but this place was never meant for a military parade." "He's making fun of your truck," Caxton told Captain Suzie.

Caxton crawled into the back while Arkeley took the front passenger seat. His fused vertebrae trumped her sprained ribs, he announced.

every once in a while, maybe twice a year, I dream of blood. It tastes like copper pennies on your tongue. It's hot, hotter than you expect, and very wet at first, but it clots even as it fills your mouth. It sticks in your throat but you swallow it down, you can feel it stringy and dark in the back of your throat but you force it down so you can have some more, another mouthful, and another. I know it so well now. The dryness of it, the clots in your teeth. The need.

Nothing lasts forever, not even the horrors in this life.

My pleasure. Listen," he called after her, "this is as far as I can go. They poisoned the water out there and I can't follow you now. If you do see Powell, will you give him a message for me?" "Sure," she said, turning around. "Tell him I have his boots in my truck. In case he's looking for 'em." Chey smiled. It felt wrong on her face, but she liked it all the same. "I'll do that.

One of the women took his arm and smiled into his face until he looked at her. "We're going to dance in the woods later, when the moon comes up. You'll have to join us, of course," she said. She batted her eyelashes and added, "It's a full moon, so we'll go skyclad." Simon frowned, trying to work out what she was saying. "Naked, you mean." His mouth fluttered as if he was trying to decide whether to grin sheepishly or lasciviously.

It would appear," Top said, blinking his eyes in mock contrition, "that I've accidentally handcuffed my arm to the door handle of this van. And I've completely forgotten what I did with the key.

cairn. She recognized a few outlines, of dump trucks and backhoes

It turns out that dying in a blaze of glory is surprisingly easy, but living on, after your moment of triumph, is the hardest thing in the world.