As the zombie hordes descend, Chris Collins and Joe Thursday lead a small group in a defiant stand. But will it be enough to save themselves and the city?
Will Chris be able to rescue his wife, who is about to be subjected to a hideous zombie experiment? And will he be able to find his three young children, alone and afraid, on the streets among the dead?
The latest episode of the Zombie D.O.A. series is an unstoppable, action-packed force de force that will leave you breathless.
Click the "Read More" link below to read an excerpt from
Among The Dead
one
“Control, this is
Foxtrot, come in. Over.”
“Foxtrot, this is Control. What’s your status? Over.”
“Control, we have movement out of the south-east quadrant. Over.”
“Foxtrot, please clarify. You say you have movement. What movement?
Over.”
“Control, difficult to say right now, lots of dust out there. I see
Humvees, four, and something else…Holy crap!”
“Foxtrot, say again. What do you see? Over.”
“Control, Jesus Christ, you’re going to have to get all of those
people the hell out of there! You’re going to have to evacuate the city.”
“Foxtrot, I say again, what do you see? Over.”
“Zs, fucking thousands of them, the horizon is black with the
fucking things!”
“Foxtrot, please clarify, you’re saying you’ve got some Zs out in
your quadrant? Over.”
“Not some Zs! It looks like every Z on the west coast is heading
straight towards us! We’re pulling back.”
“Negative, Foxtrot. Hold your position and engage. Over.”
“Foxtrot, are you reading me? Over.”
“Foxtrot, you are to hold your position. Do you read? Over.”
“Foxtrot, goddammit! Stand your ground. That’s a direct order.”
two
The van carrying Chris
Collins and Joe Thursday to the California State Prison at Lancaster hurtled
along West Avenue J, while the banshee howl of sirens cut through the dawn
twilight in a hellish symphony.
“Hey! Hey, dipshit!” Joe shouted, banging on the inside of the cab
with his free hand. “You hear that? You know what that means? That means the Zs
have breached Lancaster. That means even your dickwad boss realizes he can’t
hold the city. Hey, assholes, stop the van and let us out!”
If the guards heard, they didn’t respond. Joe yanked at the cuffs,
trying to work at the bracket they were threaded through. Not that it would do
any good. The bracket was reinforced steel, welded to the bracing of the cab,
with the cuffs locked in place by a thick metal catch. The short expanse of
handcuff chain was threaded through it, one of the cuffs attached to Chris’s
right wrist, the other to Joe’s left.
It meant both of them had to stand in an uncomfortable half-crouch.
From that position Chris had a view through the barred window of the prison
transport, across the early dawn sky, in the general direction of his home. He
could see thick smoke out there, backlit with flame, and he prayed that his
family was safe, that Kelly had followed his instructions and stayed with the
kids in the fortified cellar, even after he’d failed to return from his last
sortie to the barricades.
“Hey!” Joe shouted again. “You knuckleheads listening to me?” He
lifted his hand to bang on the metal panel of the cab, but Chris stopped him.
“Hey, fellers?” Chris said. “Who we got up front there?”
No reply.
“You fellers want to at least give us some of your attention back
here? What Joe says is true. The town is about to be overrun. You lock us down
in the prison and you’re as good as consigning us to a death sentence. Might as
well pull the truck over and shoot us right here.”
For a moment Chris thought they weren’t going to respond, but then a
small panel in the forward cab slid open. Chris could see through it, through
the windshield, to the expanse of tarmac rushing towards them in the
headlights.
“Sorry, Mr. Collins,” a voice said.
“Who’s that?” Chris said, “Richie Gleason? That you?”
“Yeah it’s me, sir, but like I said –”
“Come on, Richie. You know me, you took boxing lessons from me, now
I got your kid in one of my classes. You’ve got to let us out, Richie. I got my
family holed up in the cellar back home. All I want to do is get back to them.
You should be getting back to yours, too.”
“Sorry sir, much as I’d like to help –”
“Now you listen to me, you little shit,” Joe cut in, just as Chris saw
movement in the road ahead. The truck’s headlights picked out a man standing on
the blacktop.
“In the road!” Chris shouted.
“I see him,” the driver said. “Fucking Z. Hold on back there, I’m
going straight through the fucker.” He floored the van and it closed the
distance in milliseconds, bearing down on the man like an angry beast, striking
him in the abdomen, folding him under its wheels like a cardboard cutout.
“Yee ha!” the driver shouted, half-turning in his seat. “Did you see
that? Did you see –?”
Chris still had his eyes focused on the road ahead, where a thousand
points of light seemed to suddenly materialize from the darkness.
“Look out!”
The driver turned back towards the road and spotted them. He yanked
the wheel hard right and stood on the brakes, sending the van into a slide. For
a brief moment, it tottered on two wheels, then it overcorrected and flipped.
Chris felt himself traveling through the air in slow motion, felt the cuffs
bite into his wrist, felt Joe smash into him. The van came down hard on its
side and slid across the blacktop towards the massed Zs.
three
Chris had a
side-on view through the peephole. The sliding hulk of the van seemed to be
traversing a forest of legs, scything through them like a harvester through a
field of ripe corn. The Zs made no effort to get out of the way and were
swatted aside with meaty blows, augmented by the screech of metal on tarmac and
the accompanying cascade of sparks. Presently, the vehicle began to lose
momentum. Soon it ground to a halt. Chris tried to move and felt the van rock
dangerously to one side, as though it hung on the edge of an abyss. He shifted
his position and the cab settled again. A sound reached him now, the whisper of
hundreds of shuffling feet heading in their direction, underpinned by that
infernal Z hum.
“Joe!” he hissed into the darkness. “Joe, are you alright?”
“I’ve been better, goddamn cuffs near ripped my hand off, and my hip
feels like Godzilla stomped on it.”
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, compadre.”
From the cab now, came a low groan. Chris looked through the twisted
mesh of the sliding panel, through the splintered and blood-spattered windshield,
towards the thousands of figures shuffling in their direction. Richie hovered
to the right of his vision, seemingly suspended in mid-air, held in place by
the seatbelt. To his left, Chris could make out the crumpled body of the
driver.
“Richie, are you okay?”
“I…I think so, chest hurts.”
“Listen up, Richie. If you can move, get the hell out of there. Now!”
“I can’t, I’m –”
“Get the fuck out of there, Richie. Do it now!”
Richie was crying. “I can’t, my leg is caught. I can’t move, oh God
I’m going to die. I’m going to die.”
“Have you got a gun, Richie?”
“I’m going to die, oh God, I’m going to die.”
“Richie, stay calm and find the gun. Stay calm and –”
“I’m going to die!”
The first of the Zs reached the truck now, engulfing it like a murder
of crows descending on a carcass. Richie’s body suddenly jerked as though a
jolt of electricity had been passed through it, and he was ripped from the cab.
His screams were soon replaced by the sickening sounds of the Zs feeding on his
corpse.
Chris wrenched his attention back towards the inside of the cab,
more aware than ever of the seriousness of their situation. He ran a hand along
the bracket that held them captive. It had twisted in the crash, flattening
against the chain, holding it even more securely. He lifted his free hand and
pushed at the catch and knew straight away that it wasn’t going to give.
“Anything, Chris?”
“Not unless you’ve got one of your famous lock-opening hairpins on
you.”
“Not the one,” Joe said.
Chris looked around the inside of the van, now visible in pallid
light. It had withstood the crash well, which was both a blessing and a curse.
The Zs couldn’t get in, but Chris and Joe couldn’t get out either.
“At least we should be safe
here for a while,” Chris said, and almost right on cue, the back door creaked
open a crack. Chris could make out an eye peering into the narrow gap and then
fingers pushing through. Soon other hands were grasping the edge of the door
and they started working it, back and fore, in a screech of metal.
“You were saying,” Joe said.
Chris ignored him and leaned in towards the peephole. The mesh
covering it had been twisted, and he was sure that a couple of blows with his
boot heel would push it out. What then? Well, there had to be a weapon in the
cab, most likely more than one. If it was close enough, he might just be able
to reach through and snag it. First though, he’d have to loosen the bracket. He
needed the extra bit of play that the chain would give him.
From behind he heard the grind of metal and saw that the gap had
widened. Filthy, clawed hands snaked through, like maggots invading a corpse.
“Joe, I‘ve got an idea, but I’m going to need you to help me yank
this chain free. Think you can do that?”
“I ain’t dead yet, compadre.”
“Okay then. I’m going to yank the chain towards me, then you yank it
towards you, till we work her loose, okay?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Chris grasped his cuffed wrist
with his free hand and pulled, giving it everything.
“Son of a bitch!” Joe shouted as the chain rattled free and his hand
collided with the bracket.
four
Chris slid as far
forward as the cuffs would allow, lifted his boot heel and delivered three
well-aimed blows to the mesh covering the peephole. On the third, the mesh
popped out. Now he pulled himself forward and peered into the cab. He saw the silver,
9-millimeter pistol right away, and knew right away, that he wasn’t going to
reach it. With the truck on its side, the weapon had fallen into the driver’s
foot-well. Even without the cuffs holding him in place, there was no way he
could reach that far.
There was another problem, too. Stretching his arm through the gap
was inviting a bite. There were no Zs in the cab, but hundreds of them lurked
just outside, still squabbling over the remains of the two guards. If they
spotted movement, they were sure to hone in on it.
“What we got?” Joe said.
“There’s a 9-mil, but it’s too far down, I can’t reach it.”
“Check the stowage above that peephole, bound to be a shotgun
there.”
Chris looked into the rearview mirror, adjusting his angle so that
he could see the space directly above the peephole. There, held in place by a
gun-bracket, was a black, Mossberg 590 combat shotgun.
“Well?”
Before Chris could answer, there was another sound from the rear of
the van. He turned in time to see a Zs force its head through. The creature
gaped at him through its one eye, set in a face that looked like a melted
candle. It thrashed its head violently, trying to find a way in, sending rank
spittle flying from a mouth populated with blackened teeth.
Chris turned back towards the front of the truck, took in a deep
breath and blew through gritted teeth. If he was going to do this, it had to be
now.
The gap wasn’t wide enough to bring the shotgun through side on, so
he’d have to lift the gun from its bracket, extend his arm and then pull the
weapon through butt first. That, of course, would put him at greater danger of
a bite, but there was no other way. He’d have to risk it.
He had one last look in the rearview mirror and swept his gaze
around the cab. It was clear. He pushed his hand through the peephole and
angled it upward. His fingers brushed the cold steel of the gun barrel and he
used the rearview mirror to guide his hand, getting a grip just behind the
trigger guard. He pushed upward, lifted the weapon from the bracket and felt
the weight of it force his hand down. At that moment, one of the Zs spotted him
and came lurching forward. The creature smashed headfirst into the shattered
windshield, stepped back and crashed forward again. Others were now alerted to
the movement and they shuffled forward intent on their next meal. Chris caught
a glimpse of one of them sliding in through the passenger window while the
others tore the windshield free of its frame. He moved quickly, twisting the
weapon and drawing it towards him. He’d almost pulled it through when he felt a
wrench on the barrel and nearly lost his handhold. The zombie’s face appeared in
front of him and it flew at him with teeth flashing, its head crashing against
the metal. Chris threw himself backward, pulling the shotgun from the Zs grasp.
The van tottered to one side again, hovering like a rollercoaster at the edge
of a big drop.
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