The Friday 56 is hosted by Freda’s Voice. The rules are simple – turn to page 56 in your current read (or 56% in your e-reader) and post a few non-spoilery sentences.

This week’s quote is from an incredibly unique book. Hollow Kingdom is the story of the zombie apocalypse, as told from the perspective of a pet crow. (He calls humans MoFos because that’s what his owner, Big Jim, taught him!)

Pike Place Market, its iconic red sign unlit, was teeming with MoFos and my heart beat its wings in delight. Hallelujah! Praise IHOP! They’d all come here! They’d all travelled down I-5 South and taken refuge in the market, among the beautiful flower displays, waterfront views, and specialty teas that cost the same as a kidney! I lowered, preparing to let out a caw of jubilation, and then my stomach fizzed into boiling acid. The MoFos were shoulder to shoulder, loping in a writhing mass, spewing from the underground of the market and through its souvenir-lined corridors, bumping into one another, trailing their fingers, and bobbing their snapping-turtle necks. Every single one of them had what Big Jim had. I can only technically count to nine, but it seemed like millions. No growling cars, just the remnants of long-rotten fruit, rotten fish, rotten MoFos, and onesies with the Space Needle painted on them. I gagged. How could this have happened? How could so many MoFos be sick?