“Get off of me!” I hiss. 

“So you can kick me again?  I don’t think so.”  My body squirms underneath him.  This is humiliating.  “You’re going to listen to me, and then I don’t care what you do.  I am not the enemy.  The enemies are the Institute goons in black with guns, and the pale white sickos with body parts stuck in their teeth.  You and I, we’re the grey in the middle.  We’re on the same team; we’re friends.”

“I am not your friend.”

“Fine!  We’re on the same team.”    

We've seen the shambling, mindless wanderers; we've seen the fast, vicious, stalkers; we've even seen a few semi-dead romances.  But we haven't yet seen the sexy teenage zombie you'd give your right arm (or more likely your brain) to go out with.  Check out the excerpt on the "Grey Matters" page.