14-year-old Zack Thornwood's life is turned upside down one day after baseball practice when he spots an 8-fingered man with a hole in his head disappear into the ground. Hole-in-Head Man is quickly followed by Xander Moon, a self-titled 'Hunter of the Dead' who explains that there are tons of dead people walking around pretending not to be dead. They look alive, they act alive, but they are most definitely not alive, and this is most definitely not a good thing.
Xander gives Zack the ability to tell the dead from the living through their unique odor (he smells dead people) and the two follow Hole-in-Head Man (whose name is Gus) into an ancient tomb hidden underground in the middle of suburbia. There they beat Gus to the prize contained within--a squishy spleen. The spleen is one of the legendary 14 Pieces that, when assembled, create The Osiris Machine which will bring about the end of the world.
Zack tries to go back to his normal life, but when Gus tries to kill him in the middle of a playground, he discovers the Deadly Dead are not through with him just yet. When Zack touched the squishy spleen, the location of the next Piece of the Osiris Machine was more or less downloaded into his brain. Gus and the people he works for, including the mysterious and utterly evil Miss Bubbles, want that information, and they will stop at nothing to get it. 
The Chronicles of the Deadly Dead is created by David Neilsen, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

The Chronicles of the Deadly Dead

We stepped into the sad excuse for an arcade. There were maybe eight games, three of which didn’t work. Xander was in the back playing something called Q*bert that looked to be thirty years old.


“Are you stalking me?” I asked his back.


He ignored me while bucking his shoulders back and forth as he fought to keep a purple blob from falling off a ziggurat. Something that resembled a green coil chased him and Xander panicked, his character leaping off into oblivion with a pitiful wail followed by the sound of a disturbingly metallic splat.


“I hate that snake,” said Xander, reaching into a day-glow fanny pack at his waist.


“Xander?” I asked again, this time with just a hint of exasperation.


He turned around and started as if shocked to be interrupted. “Why, Zack! It's Zack! And... Sister! Zack and Sister, here! What are the odds?”


Xander Does a Lot of Splatting