EARTH’S SURVIVORS: Home in the Valley from Dell Sweet

EARTH’S SURVIVORS: Home in the Valley from Dell Sweet


This is Copyright protected material used with permission 



Mike and Candace

West of Manhattan

September 3rd

“Nobody,” Ronnie remarked as he clicked off the CB and stepped down from the truck.

“Maybe the weather,” Alice said as she took his hand.

“May be,” Ronnie agreed with a smile. He bent forward and kissed her softly.

“You do that so well,” Alice told him. She had that secret little smile on her face, the one that turned up the corner of her lips. The one that had made him say yes when she had asked to join them.

They had met her and the small party she had been traveling with the day after they had left Billy’s camp and started on their way. Ronnie thought back on it now. That had been more than two months before. They had spent those two months just trying to get out of the city, past all the stalled traffic that went on forever, and into a place where they could actually have trucks, drive, make time. That day they had still been driving, or trying to. They had come around a curve on a barely held together state route that paralleled the thruway and there they had been: A truck parked in the middle of the road. Mike had locked the brakes up; the curve had not given much warning. Alice had been standing at the front of the truck and she had never even flinched.

Mike had stopped a good fifteen feet away. When he and Ronnie had stepped from the truck she had hit Ronnie with the smile. He had fallen right then. No arguments.

“Could’a killed us,” Toby Black had said. He was the leader of the six party group. “Shouldn’t ought to drive so goddamn fast.”

Mike was speechless; it was Ronnie that had fired back.

“That may be,” Ronnie had allowed,” But maybe you should give a little thought to parking in the middle of the road too.”

“On a goddamn curve,” Candace added, barely cracking a smile.

“Yeah, well,” Toby said. He seemed to consider a few moments, tugged at his graying beard, and must have decided to say nothing. He had just nodded, dusted one hand against his jeans and extended it to Ronnie. “Toby,” He had glanced from Ronnie to Mike to Candace, nodding as he did. “This’s Andy,” he had nodded at a skinny man who stood a few feet away. “Galloway over there, Flint at the back of the truck, Lucy sitting inside there and Alice right here.” He had tried to slip one arm over Alice’s shoulders, but she had smiled and shrugged it off.

“And who are you,” she had asked Ronnie. Behind him Candace had chuckled.

“Ron,” he had said.

She had taken his hand and held on, her eyes on his own.

“Listen, you can stay to dinner with us if you like. Fresh venison, killed a deer a few hours back.” Toby had pointed at a fire where what looked like both haunches of a small deer had been spitted: Fat dripping and sizzling.

“Yeah,” Candace had agreed. “We’d be glad to.”

“Yeah,” Mike had added. His stomach had been growling so loudly he had been sure that everyone could hear it. He had reached in, shut down the truck, and then shifted his rifle to his opposite shoulder as he shook hands with the others including Alice who had finally let go of Ronnie’s hand.

A little work had secured some late corn from an overgrown nearby field, that and the venison had made an excellent dinner.

“So where you folks going to,” Toby had asked.

“Alabama,” Mike had answered around a mouthful of corn. “Dammit this is good.”

Toby had laughed.

“There are, I think, more deer than there are people. Could have had a cow, in fact, but it would have been a waste of meat,” Alice had said.

They had traded small talk as they ate, sharing road information. Toby was bound for Manhattan, even after he had talked to them. Mike had shaken his head. The man was stubborn; there was no changing his mind. Mike had offered them to join with them and continue on to Alabama.

“Maybe,” Toby had agreed. “I might come back and look you up, but I got to know for myself.” They had been getting ready to leave a few minutes later, having refused politely the offer of spending the night, when Alice had asked if they would accept only her since the others didn’t want to go.

“Yeah,” Ronnie had said, nearly immediately. Toby had not seemed surprised although more than a little let down. He had, had a hard time hiding his frown. Ronnie smiled now thinking about it.

“What,” Alice asked.

“Thinking about how I like the way your mouth turns up at the corner the way it does,” Ronnie said. He reached forward and pulled her to him, at the same time walking back to the fire and Candace and Mike. Alice laughed.

“Dead,” Ronnie repeated to Mike and Candace.

“Kind of weird,” Candace said. “I mean, it’s been chatter, chatter, and chatter the last few days and now it is dead; doesn’t make sense.”

“Is strange,” Alice agreed. “But we’re also further away from the city. Maybe all that chatter was the city… Or most of it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mike agreed. “We need to find a map and see what is near. Maybe the largest cities close by were destroyed.”

“I imagine they were: When we came this way it was the same. The few times we got close to a city it was bad. Destruction, the smell was horrible, and the sick ones too,” Alice said.

“Sick?” Mike asked.

“You haven’t seen them yet?” Alice asked.

“I don’t think we saw as much of the really bad stuff I have heard on the radio…” Candace paused for a second. “Back there, Manhattan, when we were with Billy, we heard some bad stuff out of the city. I mean like horror movie stuff. People looking dead but still walking around… Going without food for days, but not dying; attacking other people,” She shrugged. “Had to kill them, the ones that told us said so: Had to kill them because they were just gone. Come right at you and try to kill you if you didn’t… Some kind of bad sickness,” Candace finished.

“Zombies,” Alice said with a small nervous laugh.” She held her hands up when Mike and Ronnie shook their heads almost in unison. “I know, I know. They are not zombies, living dead, whatever, but I’m telling you I’ve seen them and they are bad shit, bad shit. They may as well be zombies. No real thoughts seem to be going on in there.” She tapped her head with one finger. “They will attack you. They will try to kill you, eat you” She shrugged. “Not zombies, some sort of disease, but it is some very bad shit.”

“Like… Like plague of some sort,” Candace said.

“Yeah… Yeah, but they keep moving. I mean they should be dead, right? Their necks are swollen, faces black and blue, skin all messed up, running sores, this mass of black lines, like infection, running all through them, under their skin; but they don’t die. It’s like they are rotting on the bone, but they keep moving somehow. I don’t get it, but I have seen it a dozen times. Crazy too, not rational, I mean they are attacking and trying to eat other living people, how is that rational? Head shot, yeah, maybe you could kill them some other way too, but you don’t want to be screwing around, because maybe they’ll bite you. I have seen what happens to those who get bitten; they get sick pretty fast… A day or two tops. And in just a few hours they got those little black lines running off under their skin. Like I said, bad shit.”

“Jesus,” Mike said. “Billy told us about some that were camped near them. They didn’t even know it. They live like animals, nests in the woods, darkness, got one of their women, never found her, never found them, but the smell in the clearing was bad… Like death. And a few from the city told other stories. Central Park is overrun with them. Thousands of sick and dying, only they aren’t dying for some reason, like… I don’t know, like they can somehow stay alive when they shouldn’t be able to stay alive.” He shivered involuntarily. “Little spooky… I can see why some are calling them zombies.”

Alice nodded. “Difference is these are real. I think zombies are a made up thing, these are something goddamn close to that, but they’re real. And there are some who seem sane, or… Calculating, I know that sounds even crazier, it’s like they evolve into something else… Some higher form of insanity that is so far gone they’re almost, well, sane again.”

Silence held for a few moments, Ronnie broke it.

“But a shot to the head does it, huh?”

“Yeah, works every time. I mean, it sort of makes sense. Whatever the hell it is keeping them alive it requires them to have a brain so they can at least function on that… Well, on that animal level, I guess. No brain, no functioning at all.” Alice nodded once she finished and the silence held again for quite some time. This time Candace broke it.

“Well,” She squared her shoulders, “I guess if they look suspicious it has got to be a shoot first ask questions later sort of deal then, right?”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed.

“Yeah,” both Ronnie and Alice chimed in.

Candace leaned forward and threw a few heavy chunks of wood onto the fire. Night was not far away and the shadows were closing in fast.

“There were stories about that shit the planes sprayed on us,” Ronnie said after a long pause.

“Like?” Candace asked.

“Billy said he heard about it more than once. Almost all of us have stories about planes spraying stuff on us. I saw it back in Watertown, I… I think it was the next day… March 2nd, maybe March 3rd. We were up there in the Southern Tier… Raining all goddamn day, remember? Planes flying overhead: I remember seeing them. Blue shit… You guys?”

“I don’t remember the blue shit… Seems I remember the planes, but I thought, I don’t know, military transport planes. I really didn’t think about it until we got back to Watertown and there were no troops there at all. I expected them to be,” Mike said.

“I remember planes,” Alice said. I was in Schenectady… Planes, I remember thinking the Army had arrived, but they just flew over real slow, cargo doors open, that was weird, I half expected paratroopers to jump out… No blue stuff though, not that I remember… Why? What was it about?”

“I remember the blue shit,” Candace added, as Alice finished. “What was it about? What did Billy say?”

“Some government shit designed to strengthen us,” He held his hands up as everyone spoke at once. “I didn’t say I believed it. Hell, Billy said every time he tried to nail someone down about what they heard and who they heard it from, they would get all sketchy. Oh, it was a soldier I met on the road, told me he knew because the planes flew out of the base he was assigned to, but no name of the base no facts about it, just like a… You know what it reminded me of? Like an urban legend. They get going the same way. Always sketchy details, low on facts.”

“Yeah, well, that’s one hell of an urban legend,” Candace said.

“Yeah, but the thing is there is always, they say, some seed of truth there,” Ronnie said thoughtfully.

“Maybe is,” Mike agreed.

“All I know is those things are real. We’ll have to be careful,” Alice said. The silence fell and held this time.

“Well,” Mike said at last. “Sleep beckons.” He looked over at the tents they had been using. “Maybe tomorrow, take some time, pick up bigger trucks… Maybe taking a chance sleeping outside isn’t smart.”

“I was going to mention that,” Alice said. “They might not bother us… Seem to hate fire, bright light. But if they did,” she shook her head. “I don’t want to go that way.”

“Me either,” Candace agreed.

Mike sighed. “Why don’t you two sleep…? Ronnie, you too, I’ll take four hours and then wake you for the next four.”

“Done deal,” Ronnie agreed. They all rose from the fire, Candace stretched up and kissed Mike.

“Be okay?” She asked.

“Perfect.” he kissed her again. “Listen… Why don’t you and Alice sleep in the truck, you know, just to be safe?”

“I second that,” Ronnie agreed. “I’ll take the tent. You guys can do most of the driving tomorrow; let us nap a little to catch up.”

“After we get better trucks we can sleep in,” Alice added.

“After,” Mike agreed. Candace stretched up on her tip toes and kissed him once more. She left without another word.

“Sure you want first?” Ronnie asked.

“I’m good,” Mike agreed. He watched Ronnie walk away and then turned toward the black landscape and the trees that surrounded them, wishing he had not parked so close to the woods.


Get this book right now: iTunes | Smashwords | Nook | Kobo | Createspace

Posted in Apocalypse, Dell Sweet, Earth's Survivors, Geo Dell, iTunes, Preppers, Undead | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

The Zombie Plagues Book two preview

The Zombie Plagues Book 2 follows a small group of men and women as they struggle to survive in a new world… 


Copyright protected material used with permission


Donita and the boy

The fires burned bright, freshly banked for the night. She could not say what it was in fire that frightened her, but it did. It touched something deep inside, something that she could sense had not always been there. Like at one time she had embraced fire the same way the breathers did. Now it only frightened her.

Behind her, the boy whined, high pitched and frightened. The fire did the same thing to him. She turned and allowed a growl to slip from her cracked and peeling lips, and the boy quieted down immediately.

She looked back toward the fires. She should have gone already. She should have taken the boy and moved on. The breathers could mean death to both of them. The dog kept coming around. And now there was another dog. She could smell her.

But the breathers didn’t usually hang around that long. Others had come and gone just as quickly. These should have been gone when the moon rose into the night sky, packed up and gone while she and the boy had been in twilight. But they were still there. Their terrible fires burning and sending their stink into the air, creating heat. Heat was an enemy of all things cold, she told herself. And she was a thing cold.

She stood, her legs flexing easily, something they did not do just a short time ago. Behind her, the boy stood also, soundlessly, and although she did not see him – hear him – she felt him. She knew he had stood, knew he was waiting for her to move, knew that he believed the entire world revolved around her. All this with no words, touches, conscious thoughts.

She looked off through the trees to the opposite side of the road, across from where the breathers were camped.

Her new eyes saw more than her old eyes had ever seen, though not precisely as she had seen with those other eyes. This sight was not suited to daylight. It could see – would see – in daylight, but not well. The lesser light of the moon was the light she needed.

She could see for more than a quarter mile clearly. But it was not just about the seeing. Smell, the feel of the air upon her skin, things that could not work the way they used to work, now worked with her eyes. She saw the scent on the wind. She perceived the movement of air across her skin with her eyes. She saw it. Her eyes were her windows to the world.

She saw the rabbits far across the field, past the other road, and rabbits were fine, but it was not the rabbits that had attracted her. It was the boy, not much older than the one behind her, that had caught her attention.

He carried rocks in a pouch, held a weapon in his hand as he stalked the rabbits.

He was alone. It was a thing that she knew. He was not a part of the breathers that were camped not far away. He was a loner, and he had managed to avoid the ones like her that must have scented him, followed him. She scented the air and drank in the information.

Alone… Hungry… Mistrustful. He stumbled, and the rabbits spooked. Before he could react, the rabbits were across the balding grass patches near the trees on the opposite side of the road and into the tall grass. She could feel them running through the grass. Tiny hearts beating fast, knocking against their rib cages. She tracked the boy at the same time. He had lunged for the tall grass and then had fallen back. His head came up, scenting the air the way breathers did, and she knew he had caught her scent, the same way any hunted animal did, even when they did not yet know they were hunted. It had been the reason he had stumbled and frightened the rabbits. She said nothing, simply flexed her leg and leapt into the tall grass, the boy behind her.

The woods emptied out into a narrow valley sparsely populated with scrub pines, a small creek running through the bottom. The boy made the creek at a dead run, but the fire in his side caused him to stumble. She was not there to see him stumble, but she knew it just the same. A second later the boy was on him, knocking him flat to the ground. When Donita came upon them, the boy had his hands tightly around the boy’s throat, riding his chest as he bucked and thrashed. She flew upon them, pushing the boy aside, driving a knee into the boy’s throat and closing off the air he had been fighting so hard for. She pressed her body hard against his, stretched out flat upon him, and held on as he thrashed and clawed.

~

He fought hard, but he faded just as quickly. With no air, breathers could not fight long. Something she had learned, had known, she told herself now, but she did not remember how she knew, she only knew that she did. When at last he stopped his fight, she rolled off him and rose to her full height, towering over him, looking down at him.

He was barely as big as the boy she had already. He would be just as ignorant too, stupid… but open to learn, and he seemed stronger, built bigger. Wherever he had been – and she could smell places on him that she had never known – wherever he had been, he had used his rocks and weapon well, kept himself well fed. She sighed. It was not her choice alone, and she could feel that the boy resented him, did not want him to be a part of them. She waited for his emotions – still so much like the breather he had been – to pass…

NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-zombie-plagues-book-two-geo-dell/1116974114?ean=9781492798743

Posted in Apocalypse, Geo Dell, Horror, Preppers, The Zombie Plagues, Undead, Zombies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Earth’s Survivors Plague Geo’s Book Previews 

Earth’s Survivors Plague

Book Previews Posted by Geo July 02, 2017 12:06:32


EARTH’S SURVIVOR’S: Plague

PUBLISHED BY: Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors: Plague is © Copyright 2015 Wendell Sweet, all rights reserved.

Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 by Wendell Sweet, All rights reserved

This book preview is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book preview may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


________________________________________________________________

ONE

Complex C: Patient Ward

Test Subject: Michael Hunter

Compound SS-V2765

Gabe Kohlson moved away from the monitors. “Heart rate is dropping, don’t you think…” He stopped as the monitor began to chime softly. Before he could get fully turned around the chiming turned into a strident alarm that rose and fell. “Dammit,” Kohlson said as he finished his turn.

What is it,” David Johns, wheeling his chair across the short space of the control room. His outstretched hands caught him at the counter top and slowed him at Kohlson’s monitor.

Flat lined,” Kohlson said as he pushed a button on the wall to confirm what the doctors one level up already knew. Michael Hunter was dead.

I see it,” Doctor Ed Adams replied over the ceiling speakers. The staff called him Doctor Christmas for his long white beard and oversize belly. “Berty and I are on the way.”

Lot of good that will do,” Johns muttered.

Kohlson turned to him. “Go on in… Do CPR if you want… They don’t pay me enough to do it. I don’t know what that shit is. Look at the way the Doc suits up. Michael Hunter will be in rigor before anyone gets in there at all.”

No argument,” Johns said. He wheeled back to his own monitor, called up an incident sheet and began to type.

Me too,” Kohlson agreed. “Preserve the video, med and monitor data.” He punched a few buttons on his console and an interface for the medical equipment came up. He saved the last 48 hours of data, and then began to fill out his own incident report. These reports might never be seen by more than one person, maybe two if you counted the person that wrote it, Kohlson thought, but it would always be there. Classified. Top secret for the next hundred years or so. And he wondered about that too. Would it even be released after a long period? He doubted it. The things they were doing here were bad shit. Shit you didn’t ever want the American public to know about. This incident report, along with the one Johns was doing, would probably get buried deep under some program listing that no one would ever suspect to look into. Or, maybe it would get burned right along with Michael Hunter’s body. He glanced up at the clock and then went back to typing.

Uh… Call it 4:32 PM?” He asked.

Works for me,” Johns agreed.

I got 94 for the body,” Johns said.

Yeah… Yeah, me too. That’s a fast drop, but we both got the same thing. 94 it is… No heart, no respiratory, dead as dog shit.”

Dog shit,” Johns agreed. They both fell silent as they typed. A few moments later the doors to the observation room chimed, the air purifiers turned on with a high pitched whine, and they could both feel the air as it dragged past them and into the air ducts. The entire volume would be replaced and the room depressurized and then re-pressurized before the doors would open. And that would only happen after the air was tested and retested. A good twenty minutes away before anyone would step foot into the room with Michael Hunter.

Complex C, Autopsy Room: 6:58 pm

Ed Adams and Roberta Summers had dissected Michael Hunters body methodically. The autopsy had been painstaking. It had to be, it was recorded in detail and some General somewhere, hell, maybe even the president would be looking that video over in the next few days. Maybe even watching live now. They had that capability. There was nothing to see. He had suffered a major heart attack. The heart had a defect. No history. One of those things that just came along and fucked up your two billion dollar research project all at once.

Coronary Thrombosis,” He spoke in a measured voice. “Appears to be after the fact. The artery looks to be mildly occluded… The myocardial infarction appears to be caused from a congenital defect… Specifically an Atrial Septal Defect… Berty?”

I concur. Easily overlooked. The lack of sustenance put a higher demand on the subject’s heart, the defect became a major player at that point… Bad luck for us.”

Uh, bad luck for Michael Hunter,” Ed Adams added.

Of course. Bad luck for the subject, Michael Hunter. I simply meant bad luck for a research volunteer to be defective in such a way that in effect it would compromise a project of this magnitude so badly.” She turned her eyes up to one of the cameras she knew to be there. “This in no way paints a true picture of V2765. We should proceed, unsatisfying as these circumstances might be, we should proceed with subjects 1120F and 1119X… Same compound.” She turned back to the corpse on the table. “You want me to do the brain biopsy,” She asked Ed.

Ed frowned as he made eye contact with her. They had decided, at least he had thought they had decided, not to mention brain biopsies. Three times now he had discussed the importance of not focusing on the changes that V2765 made to the brain. Anything that altered the brain could alter financing, funding, lab time. Even the government didn’t like changes to brain matter.

Are you thinking there could have been an embolism?” He asked.

‘Well I,” she sputtered away for a second until Ed rescued her.

I think all we would see is evidence of the embolism that occurred near the heart. We could search out areas of the body and most likely find more than one occurrence of embolism. Well thought, but I believe we will take a look at the brain later in the week. Right now I want to focus on the enzymes, blood work, and readying the other two for a conclusion of this trial.”

Yes. I agree entirely, Doctor Adams.”

You have your samples?”

Yes of course, Doctor. Rex?”

Ed frowned hard and shrugged his shoulders in the direction of the thick glass. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “None down here. That was stupid, Berty.“

What was that,” Kohlson asked Johns in the control room.

What?” Johns asked.

That… Whisper, I guess,” Kohlson said.

Oh… That. You know those two got it bad for each other. Probably making little remarks you don’t want to hear. Besides which, you make a report on that and we all have to deal with it. Them, sure, but us too because they’ll be pissed off about it. Best to let that shit slide: If the boss wants to know he will. He looks at all of this shit in depth.”

Kohlson looked about to say more when Doctor Christmas began talking once more in the autopsy room.

Let’s close him up,” Ed Adams said. He stepped on a switch set into the floor, paused, and then spoke again. “Lower the air temperature in here. We intend to keep him a few hours while we attend to other parts of the autopsy… No one in here for any reason.”

Out in the control room Johns keyed his mic button. “Will do… How low, Doc.?”

I guess about 34 Fahrenheit will do… Just to slow it all down for a while.”

Done,” Johns agreed. He adjusted a temperature graphic on a nearby monitor via his mouse.

Kohlson leaned over across the short distance. “So we got to look at that shit for a while? Great.”

They’re gonna sew him up so it won’t be so bad.”

Yeah… That’s like, I got a mild case of flu. It’s still gonna suck because every time I look anywhere I’m gonna feel compelled to look at it.”

Yeah. Me too. It’s there. Draws you to it. Like the Bunny on the Playboy Cover. You look at the rest of the magazine, but you know you’re gonna end up looking at her. She’s the reason you bought the magazine after all.”

Kohlson nodded and smiled. “And I’d rather look at Miss January than a dead guy with big stitches across his belly and over his chest, sewing him back up again. That is some ugly shit.”

Johns laughed. “Human nature. Why do you think people slow down and look at accidents?”

‘Cause we’re morbid mother fuckers,” Kohlson agreed.

Well, that too, but it is that fascination with death we have. Look,” He pointed at the monitor. Do you think Michael Hunter knew he’d be laying on a steel slab this afternoon, dick hanging out, with Doctor Christmas shoving his guts back in and stitching him up with his nursey assisting?” They both laughed and turned away.

She ain’t half…”

A scream cut off the conversation and both men turned quickly back to the monitor.

Michael Hunter was sitting up on the steel table. Arms drooped at his side. Mouth yawning. Doctor Christmas had backed away until he had met the wall behind him. Nurse Berty was nowhere to be seen.

What the fuck… What the fuck. Get a camera on the floor… Maybe she fainted,” Kohlson said.

Got it,” Johns agreed. He stabbed at the keys on his keyboard and a view of the table at an angle appeared. Nurse Bertie’s leg could be seen, angled away from the table, skirt hiked high. The camera paused briefly and then the view began to shift as Johns manipulated the camera angle. Her face came into view. Mouth open, blood seeping from one corner.

Doctor,” Kohlson called over the speaker system. Outside the airlocks had clicked on and the air was cycling. Good, he thought, in twenty minutes the Calvary would be here. “Doctor Adams?”

The doctor finally took his eyes off Michael Hunter and turned toward one of the cameras. On the table Michael Hunter leaned forward and tumbled off the edge of the table. At the same instant the air purifier quit cycling and three armed men in gas masks stepped into the airlock.

Jesus,” Johns sputtered. “You guys can’t do that shit. That air has to be worked?” Three more men stepped through the lock and the door to the autopsy room opened as well as the door to the control room. A split second later the rifles in their hands began to roar. The sound was louder than Kohlson expected in the enclosed space. He clasped his hands over his ears, but it did little good. The soldiers, he saw, were wearing ear protection of some sort. Noise canceling headgear. The remaining three soldiers had stepped into the control room, he saw as he looked back up from the floor. They kept their rifles leveled at them, the others were still firing within the confines of the small autopsy room. A small gray cloud was creeping along the floor and rolling slowly into the control room. The stench of gunpowder was strong in the enclosed space. The air purifiers were off. Kohlson knew there was another control room outside this one that controlled this space, and possibly another outside of that space that controlled that space. Built in protection, and they were in a very bad space.

Kohlson saw Michael Hunter lurch to his feet and stumble into the soldiers who were firing point blank range in the tight confines. A series of bullets finally tore across his chest and then into his head and he fell from view. A second later the firing dropped off and then stopped completely.

Johns was listening to the sound of his own heart hammering for a space of seconds before he figured out it was his own. The smell of gunpowder was nauseating, and he suddenly lunged forward and vomited on his shoes. As he was lifting his head he saw that the soldiers were retreating back through the airlocks and into the outer spaces of the compound.

Jesus,” Kohlson managed before he to bent forward and vomited too. He heard the air filtering kick back on and both of them rolled away from the puddles of vomit and quickly disappearing low, gray vapor from the rifles firing. The doors into the autopsy room suddenly banged shut and then their own door whispered closed as well: Once again they were isolated in their small space.

They both sat silent for a moment, and then Kohlson left and returned from the small bathroom with a mop and bucket from the utility closet there. He left and returned with a bottle of disinfectant and sprayed down the vomit and the balance of the small room.

That won’t do shit,” Johns said solemnly. We’re infected. Whatever they infected that guy Hunter with, we got it now.”

Kohlson ignored him, sprayed down John’s shoes as well as the floor. He handed John’s a pack of Sani-Towels and a red plastic bio bag, and then sat down to wait the ten minutes for the disinfectant to work. Neither spoke as the minutes ticked by.

Eventually John’s looked at his watch, sighed, and then began to clean the mess from his shoes. Kohlson checked his own watch. He had been thinking about what had happened. Playing it over and over in his head as the minutes ticked by. No way were they in the clear. No way. John’s was right. They were fucked. He rose and then walked the short distance: He bent and cleaned up the mess. He returned the equipment to the small closet, silence still holding, and then came back and sat down.

You heard me, right?” John’s asked at last when the silence became unbearable for him.

I heard you,” Kohlson admitted. “I just don’t give a fuck… It’s too fresh… I can’t believe it right now.” He looked up at the clock. “Mother fucker… I was off duty in twenty minutes… Twenty goddamn minutes!” He spun and looked at Johns, but Johns was looking up at the monitors that were still on in the autopsy room. The smoke was being drawn out by the air exchange, and the horror of the room was slowly coming into focus.

Doctor Adams lay sprawled in one corner, a line of bullet holes stitched across his back. The back portion of his skull was missing, jagged bone and gray-black hair clumped wildly around the fractured bone. Johns gagged and looked away.

Jesus… They killed everybody,” Kohlson said as he continued to watch. Nurse Bertie lay where she had fallen. Only her legs visible in the shot they could see. Michael Hunter lay against the end of the stainless slab. His head a shapeless mass. The stitches across his chest and stomach bulging. Kohlson finally turned away too.

They’re coming back for us.” Johns said.

Kohlson spun to the door.

Not now, stupid ass, but you can’t think we get to live after that. They contaminated our air. We’re dead. No way are we not dead.”

Kohlson said nothing.

~

It was six hours before the soldiers came.

They had finally taken a better look at the room. Johns moving the camera around as Kohlson watched.

Dave… Tell me I’m wrong, but that fucker came back to life, right?” He was unsure even as he said it.

Johns shrugged. “I think what happened is they missed something… We missed something. Maybe a lead came off. You know, and the lead came off and so he seemed dead and he wasn’t dead at all, not really, he was still alive. Just that lead was off.”

Yeah?”

Yeah. I mean… I mean the alternative is that he came back to life… You don’t think that do you? I mean, do you? ‘Cause that’s fucking crazy, Gabe. Crazy.”

No. No, I can see what you mean I can see where…”

The air lock cycled on and six soldiers stepped into the hall like space that was actually just an airlock between the control room, the autopsy room, the former patient ward and the outside world. Johns tensed, waiting for the door to their space to cycle on, but it didn’t.

The soldiers were dressed head to toe in army drab plastic coveralls. Respirators, big units, sat on their backs and a full face shield and breathing apparatus was on their face, somehow joined into the coveralls. Tape was wound around the elastic cuffs of the legs and the plastic boot covers that joined there. Flexible olive green gloves covered their hands, also taped where they slipped under the plastic coveralls.. They never looked their way at all, just waited for the air lock to cycle and then stepped into the autopsy room. A second later the monitors went dead in the control room.

Fuck,” David Johns said. “That is not good at all.”

Kohlson got up and left the room. A minute later he was back with two diet colas. He handed one to David johns and then sat back down. Johns glanced down at the cola. The top was open already. He looked at Kohlson and Kohlson stared back unblinking. The med supply was also in that closet. They had talked it over once. They had decided that… He pushed it away and focused on the low whisper of the air exchange

You think they will outright kill us,” Kohlson asked after a few long minutes of silence.

Gabe… I think they will, Gabe.” Johns said after a hesitation. He tried to stop himself but he glanced down at the cola in his hand. It was half full. White powder floated on the surface. Clumped and drifting like tiny icebergs across a cola sea. “Probably… No. They’re listening in right now, I’m sure. Listening to see where our minds are at: As soon as those flunkies in there are finished with that job they’ll be in here to finish up the clean up.” He swallowed hard.

Yeah. I guess that’s how I see it too,” Kohlson agreed. He raised his can and tapped the side. “Been good knowing you, Dave.”

Johns stared him down for a few moments and then sighed. “Yeah… Same here. He raised the can in a salute and then downed it. Kohlson followed suit. Silence descended on the control room.
___________________________________________________________


Links: SmashwordsiTunes | NOOK | Paperback | KOBO

Posted in Apocalypse, Dell Sweet, Earth's Survivors, Geo Dell, Horror, iTunes, Preppers, Zombies | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

The Zombie Plagues on NOOK

The Zombie Plagues on NOOK (Barnes and Nobel) Check out the series and get book one FREE!
 
 
The Zombie Plagues Book 1: If the world ended tomorrow would you be able to survive? #Zombie #Nook #horror http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-zombie-plagues-book-one-geo-dell/1116974111?ean=9781492798668


 
The Zombie Plagues Book 2 follows a small group of men and women as they struggle… #Preppers #Dystopian
 
 
The Zombie Plagues 3. Life is good for some, but life in the real world is a different story #apocalypse http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-zombie-plagues-book-three-geo-dell/1117027340?ean=9781492798798


 
 
The Zombie Plagues Book 4: I saw the zombie take a mouthful of her back, just below the curve of her neck. #Undead http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-zombie-plagues-book-four-geo-dell/1117475716?ean=2940045439084


 
 
The Zombie Plagues Book 5 The Story of Billy and Beth and their flight out of L. A. #LosAngeles http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-zombie-plagues-geo-dell/1121785682?ean=2940151878876


 
 
The Zombie Plagues Dead Road: The Collected books.
Contains books 1 thru 6. Books One through five were published, book six was not…
 

Posted in Apocalypse, Geo Dell, Horror, The Zombie Plagues, Undead, Zombies | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments

Microwave ovens and presets on microwave ovens

Microwave ovens and presets on microwave ovens:

I like microwave ovens. They have made our lives better, I truly believe that. How else can you get a hot cup of coffee from yesterdays leftover coffee in just about 120 seconds? Not that I do that.. I mean drink yesterdays left over coffee… Okay… I do.

Here’s the thing though, it’s coffee! That’s my only argument. It should be enough though. I mean it’s like sacred, isn’t it? If I were living in a cave and discovered the coffee bean and bought it to my fellow cave dwellers they would probably build a shrine for me and worship me… Paint pictures of Coffee beans on the cave walls instead of hands, horses and signs for water. History would have been changed! Well, would have been changed had that happened.

So, no. I won’t throw out coffee. I guess that is a shocking admission, but it’s true.

Once, I can’t remember the movie, some western, the character threw the dregs of the coffee in his cup on the fire. The other guys around the fire looked at him like he was crazy… Crazy! And he must have been. I was just a kid at the time and I thought he was crazy! After that the other cowboys ostracized him. And he wasn’t asked along for the next roundup. That’s how serious a thing coffee was for cowboys back in the day. So I don’t throw away coffee. Which brings me back to microwaves. Don’t you wish your mind worked the way mine does? See how I came right back to where I wanted to be? Okay, I don’t even know how my mind works, I just thank God that it does. So Microwaves…

I like the idea of a Microwave, but I do have some issues with them. First, you can not make popcorn consistently. In fact I went to make popcorn the other day and the bag said “Do not use the Popcorn Setting on your Microwave.” Huh. Then why have the setting there? Isn’t that the whole idea? Ease of use? Push one button? Well we’ll get to that in a minuet. The bag went on to give precise microwave instructions. If you have this many “Watts” use this amount of time. This many, that amount of time. I had a headache when I finished reading it. Finally I put the popcorn back into the cupboard and got some chips instead. I sank into a deep depression over the whole technology thing. How can you eat microwavable popcorn if the button settings are wrong and you have to spend three hours figuring out wattage? You can’t just get out a pan and some butter, tear open the bag and do it that way, can you?

Well, as I sat eating my chips that I didn’t want I thought about that. There are a lot of buttons on a microwave. For instance, there is a beverage button on mine. It doesn’t work for beverages though. It leaves them too cold or too hot. But what if you accidentally pushed the popcorn button? And what if you then found out the popcorn button worked for beverages? Wouldn’t that be great? Well it does. I tried. But the beverage button will not work for Popcorn. What a mess that was. But in the end, I did go back out there, rip a popcorn bag open, and put it in a pan with some butter. Guess what? That did work.

As for the coffee on the popcorn setting it did come out pretty good, but I have an aversion to using a button marked Popcorn for coffee. But I wonder. If the popcorn companies don’t want you to use it, why do the microwave companies still make a popcorn button? Hmm. And if the beverage button doesn’t work for beverages, what the hell good is it anyway? And if coffee is the most nuked beverage, why not a Coffee button? And, stay with me here, if the Popcorn button isn’t used anyway, why not re-label it Coffee? Then I wouldn’t have to feel so bad about using the popcorn button for my coffee. Hey, I’m going to get one of those little label makers and make a coffee sticker and put it right over the Popcorn label. That will solve my problems for now. Feel free to just copy my idea and paste it on your own Microwave! No need to say thanks.

That only leaves the power button on mine. But that is kind of cool. You can press it, set the time amount, and watch the little turntable go around and around….


Hey take a look at Zero Zero. Zero Zero is the first novel length story I wrote. I began this book at 16 and did not finish it until I was in my fifties. I had an idea that writers were magicians, and I just didn’t know how to do the magic. I learned that it doesn’t matter whether the writer thinks it is magic as long as it takes the reader away from life and life’s worries for a while. I realized that in my thirties, but by then the book was lost to time. I happened to get it back because someone had saved a manuscript copy all those years before and so when I mentioned it my mention of it jogged their memory and they went looking; found it, and presented it to me along with other novels and short stories I had forgotten about.


ZERO ZERO

By DELL SWEET

Published With Amazon Digital

Copyright 2014 Dell Sweet

Copyright 1976, 1983, 1987, 2009, 2014 independAntwriters Publishing & Dell Sweet. Copyright renewed 2015, Dell Sweet. All rights reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Much Thanks to: M. Laughlin, C. Maxon, G. Dell, C.J.


Peters had gotten up from the kitchen table as he spoke, apparently, Frank thought, to get the shotgun, and Frank followed him into the living room as he finished speaking.

He supposed a shotgun, even an old one, was better than no weapon at all. He nodded in approval, and then wandered back out to the kitchen to grab himself another beer, as Peters shuffled off towards his bedroom to locate the old shotgun.

As he opened the refrigerator, he thought, good thing I brought some food with me, this thing is totally empty. Wonder what the hell the old guy eats? Cat food? He had noticed earlier when he had placed the sack in it, that the only other thing in the General Electric, had been a six pack of beer, a half-eaten pizza, and twelve unopened cans of cat food. In fact the whole house had a slip-shod appearance to it, like Peters maybe didn’t spend a whole hell-of-a-lot of time in it, but where the hell else would he be, he asked himself, if he wasn’t here?

Frank popped the top on a can of the beer; closed the door; and turned to head back into the living room, to see if Peters had located the shotgun. It was a good thing he turned when he did, he told himself later, re-playing the scene over and over again, Peters’ was standing in the doorway with the old shotgun leveled at him.

Frank instinctively dropped to the floor as the shotgun roared in the small kitchen. He rolled quickly to the left, and then just as quickly he jumped from the drop-roll, and tackled the old man’s legs, taking them both into the living room. Foam, from the dropped can of beer, had spread quickly across the worn kitchen floor; Frank had almost slipped in it and lost his balance as he lunged for Peter’s legs.

His will to survive took over.

Frank wrestled the shotgun from the old man’s grip in the living room, with a well-placed punch to the throat, which caused the old man to release his grip and fall to the floor gasping for breath.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Frank yelled, as he gained his feet, and leveled the shotgun at the wheezing old man on the floor.

Peters glared back at him as he struggled to catch his breath, and said between gulps of air, “I kill you for that if I can, you bastard.”

Franks eyes almost popped from his head as Peters spoke. He had almost convinced himself that it had been some sort of an accident. Maybe the gun just went off accidentally, he reasoned, and maybe you nearly killed the old guy simply because the damn gun went off.

Peters was struggling to get up off the floor, and Frank kicked him hard in the stomach, driving him back down onto the worn carpet of the living room.

The display of bravado Peters had attempted ended, as Frank roared the question once again.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing? What the hell is going on here?”

Frank was in no mood to take any shit from Peters, and when he didn’t immediately answer, he roared the question again, while pointing the shotgun threateningly at him.

“Okay… Okay,” Peters said, gulping air. “You’ll never make it anyway, you stupid fuck. We were wise to you before you got here.”

Frank’s mouth dropped open as he finally realized, that the accent the old man had demonstrated was now gone along with any pretense that he hadn’t known a thing about Frank’s situation, or why he was in Fort Drum.

“The only reason you’re still alive,” the old man continued, “is those stupid ass-holes that were sent to take care of you, killed the kid by mistake. If I hadn’t wandered over to look the place over myself yesterday morning, we wouldn’t even have known about it… Sincerely, you’re fucked Franklin, you might as well just give me that shotgun and call it quits,”

Peters fixed Frank with his old gray eyes, before he continued.

“You’re dead meat pal, this deal is much too big to allow some second rate reporter like you to screw it up. You think my supervisor doesn’t know you’re still alive? You think I’m that fucking stupid? If you don’t hand that shotgun over, and let me up, you’re gonna be in a world of shit.”

The bravado was returning to his voice as he spoke.

“Sincerely buddy, give it up, it’s not like you can just kill me or something, and it won’t make any difference at all. We’ll still get you, there’s nowhere to go.”

Frank was incredulous, and was having a hard time digesting all of what Peters was saying.

They had known he was coming?

They had been waiting?

What the hell was so important that they were willing to kill me to stop me from finding out about it? He wondered, and if they had known before he had left Washington, did that mean they had possibly taken the kids? Or hurt them? Or worse? Had they gotten to Jimmy?

He turned his attention back to the old man on the floor.

“Who are you,” he asked. “I mean who are you really?”

Peters just glared back from the floor.

“You had better speak if you intend to see the end of this day,” Frank said, in a deadly calm voice.

“If you’re thinking that I won’t shoot, you’re wrong buddy boy, I will. I’ll shoot you and leave you laying here, now TALK!”

“CIA,” Peters replied with a sneer. “Now, don’t you think it might be smart to put that shotgun down?” Peters was trying for the false bravado again, but the fear was evident in his voice as he spoke, and he kept glancing nervously at the shotgun that Frank held.

“And?” Frank asked.

He jabbed the shotguns barrel into Peter’s ribs, and shoved him all the way back onto the floor.

“And what?” Peters asked.

“Don’t you, and what, me, you son-of-a-bitch, what’s the real deal here?” Frank struggled to bring his temper under control, before he continued, and he began to speak in a calm, but deadly serious voice once he did.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood to play your stupid games Peters, if that’s really your name. I want the truth, and I want it…right…now.” He punctuated his speech by once again jabbing the shotguns barrel into his ribs.

“Right.” jab…”Now.” jab.

Peters began to talk, and in the end, when Frank was sure he ought to just kill him, he hadn’t been able to.

Instead he had kept the old man talking through the night, gleaning every detail he could. Then he had taken the old guy, whose real name it turned out was David Black, down into the cellar when the sun had come up, and securely bound him to one of the old kitchen chairs, he had brought down from the kitchen for just that purpose.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay there.” Frank warned him. He settled his green eyes on him as he spoke.

“Because If I see you again… I’ll kill you.”

Frank climbed the rickety old cellar stairs to the kitchen, reached into the refrigerator, and plucked out a cold beer, considered, and then grabbed another and sat down at the table to think.

He wasn’t sure whether he believed Black’s story entirely or not. He desperately hoped he hadn’t been lying when he had said that Patty and Tim were all right. Frank didn’t think he had been, as he had rested the shotgun on his chest, and had told him he would just as soon kill him. The bravery had fled, and Black had looked pretty damned scared as well. Frank supposed he would have been too.

He hadn’t seen a phone anywhere in the house, he realized, as he sipped the beer thoughtfully, and peered around the kitchen.

Wonder how he kept his supervisor up to speed on me, without a phone?

He left the kitchen and walked back down the cellar steps to where Black sat tied into the kitchen chair.

“Where’s the phone?” he asked without any preamble.

Black looked confused.

“The phone, you piece of shit,” Frank yelled. “You know, ring-a-ling-ling, a phone? You must have a phone here somewhere, if only to keep in touch with your supervisor, right?”

“In the car, under the front seat,” Black replied quietly, and then continued.

“Look, nobody hurt your kids Frank, this thing was strictly aimed at you.”

“Like I’m really gonna believe somebody like you?” Frank asked, as he turned and re-climbed the cellar stairs.

“Suit yourself,” Black called from the basement behind him.

Frank walked out to the car, glad now that Black had parked it out back, and retrieved the cellular phone. He carried it back into the kitchen, and re-locked the door behind him. He wondered briefly whether the phone could be traced, or was maybe being monitored in some way, but he placed the call to Cora anyway. He had to know that the kids were really okay, and he couldn’t just take Black’s word for it. In the same breath, he didn’t want to scare the kids. So he made up his mind to only speak to Cora, even though he desperately wanted to hear their voices, so that he could put his mind at ease.

In the kitchen of the old Pratt farm, the phone rang twice before Cora picked it up. Before Frank could say much more that hello, she spoke…

“I knowed you’d be callin’,” Cora said, “and don’t worry, the kids is safe. Go do what you got to do, Frank.”

Frank was caught entirely off guard by Cora’s remark, but with everything else that had transpired since he left Washington, he supposed it, at first, to be just an old woman’s suspicions, and not of any great significance. In truth it hadn’t really even clicked, until a few seconds after she said it.

“Do you believe in God?” she asked, before he had fully comprehended what she had said when she answered the phone.

“Of course I do, Cora,” he stammered, although in truth he was really not sure if he did or did not; she had expected that answer, so he had given it, as he had hundreds of times before when he had been asked. But, to say he really did, or did not believe would have taken a great deal more thought, and he was pretty sure the answer would actually be no.

“Then you oughta do some prayin’ fer yourself, and the kids too,” she said, as he listened over the static on the cellular phone.

“But…” he started, when she cut back in.

“Just go, Frank,” she said, “just go, before it’s too late.”

She hung up the phone on her end, before Frank could say another word, but he had heard the children’s laughter, as they had played in the background, and it eased his mind. He sat at the table, puzzling over what Cora had said to him.

In all the time he had known her, he had never known her to be afraid of anything. She hadn’t really sounded afraid this time either, but she had sounded upset, and her message had seemed so urgent.

The longer he sat at the table, the angrier he became. He had to control that anger before he got up from the table and went back down to the cellar and did something he might not be able to forgive himself for, he decided to leave. Enough was enough, there had to be answers, and he was through stepping around the edges of them.

The decision made, Frank got up from the table, and found the box of slugs for the shotgun in the bedroom. With the slugs slipped securely into his pocket, he locked up the house, and drove Blacks car into the woods to conceal it. He then made the circuitous trip through the woods to the house across the road, where he now waited patiently for dusk to arrive.

After he was sure that the children were okay, he had begun to worry about making the phone call. While it was true that they hadn’t done anything to the children, that didn’t, Frank knew, mean they wouldn’t. If they did go after the children, he was sure they would have one hell-of-a-fight on their hands from Cora, and somehow, Frank told himself, he would find them, and kill them, no matter who they worked for, if they hurt the kids.

The other thing that may not have been smart about the phone call, he realized, was that if they had traced it, it would lead them directly to him, so it probably wouldn’t be smart to hang around for long, Frank had decided.

Black had also told Frank, with some urging from the shotgun that he had kept tucked under his chin, about Jimmy.

They had killed him. Black had made no bones about it at all. They had taken him out, the same way they had intended to take Frank out.

Apparently Jimmy had gotten far to close, and they had waited for him to return to his apartment one night. Before he had really known what was going on, they had killed him by garroting him with a thin steel line.

“Quick and easy,” Black had said, “and no mess just in case somebody came nosing around to see where he was.” The cock-sucker had sounded proud, Frank thought, as he waited for darkness, deep within the shadows at the edge of the woods.

They hadn’t bothered to question him, Black had said, as they knew that he knew too much.

“That questioning shit,” Black had told Frank, “only takes place in the movies.”

The worries he’d had about the kids, and the knowledge of what they had done to Jimmy already, kept him indecisive for a few seconds, and he had hovered at the door to the basement, wondering if he should go back down and put a slug right between the old man’s eyes. If he somehow managed to escape, and get out of the basement, he would be able to tip off his cohorts about Frank, and what he intended to do.

Instead he had descended the cellar steps once more; checked the ropes to make absolutely sure they were tight enough, and then before he could change his mind and shoot him, he had left without saying a word to Black.

Darkness descended on the woods where Frank stood waiting, and he crouched low as he ran the few yards to the garage; fished the keys from his pocket and inserted one into the lock on the old wooden door. The door itself was still intact, and since he hadn’t seen anyone approach the old house as he had sat watching it yesterday, he supposed that was a good sign. Still he was cautious as he raised the door, keeping the shotgun pointed into the interior of the shadowy old garage.

It was empty, except for the small car he had left inside.

“Guess they figured I wouldn’t need it,” Frank said aloud, in the small space.

The sound of his own voice startled him for a second, causing his finger to tighten on the trigger of the shotgun. He quickly released it and let the gun swing down to his side.

No sense shooting the car, he thought.

He moved quietly to the car and after first peering cautiously inside, opened the driver’s door, and climbed behind the wheel.

He had been positive, while waiting in the woods, that somehow the car would not be there, but when it was, he had become equally sure that the car would not start. So sure, in fact, that he had to fight an urge to exit the car and open the hood, to see for himself whether the new wires were still attached to the distributor and battery. In the end he simply inserted the key, turned it, and it started with no problem.

He toyed briefly with the idea of trying to follow the old man’s directions to an alternate entrance to the caves. The problem was, he could not be sure if the old man had been telling the truth, and if he had been, he could not be sure that someone would not be there waiting for him.

He made up his mind to take the direct route. He had his press pass, so he could at least flash it, and try to get in that way. If it worked he would have to wing it from that point. There was no one he could trust to call to help him, and he had not thought the plan out any farther than that.

Frank pulled the small car out onto the highway and headed towards Watertown…


Get Zero Zero from: iTunesNOOKSmashwords

Posted in Dell Sweet, Horror, iTunes, Preppers | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

Earth’s Survivors SE 4 The Story of Candace and Mike Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors SE 4 The Story of Candace and Mike Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors SE 4 The Story of Candace and Mike Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors SE 4. The Story of Candace and Mike


This is Copyright protected work

This material is NOT edited for content


THE EARTH’S SURVIVORS SE 4

The story of Candace and Mike

PUBLISHED BY: Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors: SE Four: the story of Candace and Mike is © Copyright 2017 Wendell Sweet, all rights reserved.

Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2012, 2014, 2015 by Wendell Sweet, All rights reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


In the Trees

The eyes watched her and the other cows from the cover of the trees. The hunger was terrible, all consuming, and it came in crashing waves. The impulse to feed seemed to be the only coherent thought she had. It was hard to think around, hard to think past.

A few weeks ago she had been… Been? But it did no good; she could not force the memory to come. A name came, Donita. She had been Donita; she knew that, but that was all she knew. And a name was not everything she had been. She had been something else… something more, but she could not get to whatever it was. Something that did not wander through the woods: Something that was not driven by all consuming passions that she could not understand.

She turned her eyes up to the moon. It pulled at her. Something in it spoke directly to something inside of her., something deep, something she believed had always been there, but there had never been a need to address it because it lived under the surface, out of her line of thought, sight… below her emotions. Now it didn’t. Now it ruled everything. It was all she could do not to rush from the trees, find the smell that tempted her and consume it. Eat it completely. Leave nothing at all. Oh to do it… To do it…

Her eyes snapped back from the moon, and a low whine escaped her throat. The calf, sated, had wandered away from her mother. Behind her, the boy made a strangled noise in his throat. She turned, gnashed her teeth and growled. The thin, skeletal boy fell back, hungry but frightened. She could feel his fear. It fed her, tempted her to taste him, but he was no food for her. She knew that much. It was a sort of instinct… Drive… Something inside of her. The boy was not her food. The boy was not her sustenance: He was one of her own; corrupted. And corrupted flesh could not feed and sustain itself on corrupted flesh. Fresh flesh was needed, live flesh. Fresh human flesh, she corrected.

The boy trembled and grinned sickly, his one good eye rolling in his head. The other eye was a ruined mass of gray pulp sagging from the socket. A great flap of skin below that socket had curled and dried, hanging from the cheek. He felt at it now, carefully, with his shrunken fingers. She hissed at him and his hands fell away. She turned her attention back to the wandering calf that was nosing ever closer to the edge of the trees.

She desired human flesh. She needed it, but it didn’t absolutely have to be that way.

Two nights ago it had been a rabbit. The night before that she and the boy had shared a rat. The night before that they had come upon the old woman. She thought about the old woman as the calf wandered ever closer to the line of trees.

The old woman had been good. They had brought her back here and her bones lay here still, in the weeds at the edge of the clearing behind her. She turned and gazed back past the boy into their makeshift campsite, searching for what was left of the old woman, finding her bones where they lay at the edge of the clearing they had made. She turned back to the field, watching the calf as she remembered the old woman…

The old woman in the ditch

They had come across the old woman at near morning. Near morning was the best she could do. Time was not a real concern to her anymore. The concept held no meaning. She understood near morning because the sickness, the sickness that began to send the searing pain through her body, had started. The boy had already been whining low in his throat for an hour in pain. It was like that whenever the night began to end, when the morning was on the way, soon to be.

She remembered sunlight. Her old self had needed sunlight just as she now needed darkness, absence of light. That had been Donita as well, but a different Donita.

They had been crossing the rock filled ditch to get to an old house on the other side. The basement of the house was what she had in mind: Quiet, private, darkness. She had been scrambling down the steep, sandy side when the scent had found her eyes and froze her brain.

That is the way she thought of it. Frozen. Everything… everything besides that smell of flesh was frozen out. The boy’s whining, the coming dawn, the constant hunger in her belly, the moon silvery and bright so far up in the night sky, nothing got by that desire. Urge. Drive. It consumed her, and it had then.

It had touched her eyes and then seeped into her brain; then it had spread out into her body. Her legs had stopped moving and she had nearly tumbled all the way to the bottom of the rock strewn ditch before she had caught herself, her head already twisted in the direction of the smell. Her ears pricked her tongue licking at her peeled, dead lips.

She could smell the old woman. Knew that she was an old woman. It was in the smell: Somehow it was in the smell; and her flesh, her fear. The boy had slammed into her then, still whining, and nearly knocked her to the ground.

She had come up from that near fall in a crouch, and the boy had slammed into her once more, so she had grabbed him to steady him. He had thought she meant to kill him and had pulled away, but a second later he had caught the scent and they had both gone tearing down the ditch.

The Old Woman

The old woman had heard them coming. She had begun to whine herself, replacing the boy’s whining which had turned to a low growl. The panic had built in her as she heard them coming. Her heart pounded, leapt, slammed against her ribs, bringing pain with it. The pain rebounded and shot down into her broken leg, the leg that she had broken the day before trying to scramble down into this ditch to reach the house across what was left of the highway so she would have a safe place to stay. The pain slammed into her leg, and she cried aloud involuntarily. A split second later, the female slammed into her.

She had been on her belly. The pain was less that way. When the female hit her, she drove her over onto her back. A second after that, she was ripping at her flesh, biting, feeding and she could not fight her. She was too strong, too… Animal strong. And then the boy hit her hard, pouncing on her chest, driving the air from her lungs, and before she could even react, catch her breath back, he was biting at her throat.

She felt the pulse of blood as he bit into her jugular, and it sprayed across his face. She felt it go, felt her consciousness drop by half, her eyelids flutter, flutter, flutter and then close completely. And the biting was far away, and then it was gone.

The Feasting

The boy had her throat, but Donita had been biting her way into her chest. She had felt her heart beating, and she had been gnawing against her ribs when she felt it stop. They had calmed then, loosening the grips they had on her, and settling down to feed.

~

She glanced now at the calf that was less than three feet from them, its huge moon eyes staring curiously at them. The calf did not know death, had not seen it, she thought. It knew its mother’s tit, the sweet grass of the spring field, the warmth of the sun and nothing else. It edged a little closer.

~

She had killed the old woman. She had no use for her at all. They had eaten so much of her flesh, that she was useless to them. Couldn’t sit up all the way. The boy had taken one arm off at the shoulder and carried it away like a prize.

Donita had eaten so much that she had vomited, but that had only forced her back to feeding until she was once again filled. She had looked around the ditch and spied the rock. The old woman had come back already, and she was trying to raise herself from the ground, trying to raise herself and walk once more. She had picked the rock up from the ditch. A big rock, but she was powerful, and she had smashed the old woman’s skull in as she had tried to bite at her. They had dragged her into the woods a little farther down the road, this place where they still were.

~

She turned again to the calf. The calf was not what she wanted, but the calf would have to do for now. She let her hand fall upon the boy’s thigh and they both sprang at the calf.

The calf did not have the time to react. It did not even bawl. One second it was standing, and the next it was on its side, Donita’s teeth clamped tightly across its throat. A second after that, it was sliding across the dew wet grass and into the woods, one wild eye rolling and reflecting the silver of the waning moon, as Donita and the boy dragged her into the trees.


SE 4: The Story of Mike and Candace. The most popular group from the website writings were Candace and Mike.

Read more now: iTunesNOOK | KOBO | Smashwords

Posted in Dell Sweet, Earth's Survivors, Horror, iTunes, Preppers | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

WARMING UP HERE IN THE WESTERN PART OF NEW YORK

WARMING UP HERE IN THE WESTERN PART OF NEW YORK FREE LOOK AT WATERTOWN EBOOK

Posted by Jay

Warming up here in the western part of New York: It is amazing to me that at the end of last week we had temperatures in the 70’s, but Saturday and Sunday in the single digits. This morning is a balmy 34 degrees and slated to reach the 40’s. What a weird winter.

I will be working on web sites all day long. I do it on Monday because I know that by Wednesday, my next opportunity to do it, I will be completely sick of the week and dreaming of a sandy beach and a cold beer. There are few sandy beaches here in New York. I remember the Gulf Coast when I was down there however and those beaches were gorgeous.  I keep telling myself that I will retire there and call it a life. Just a beach bum walking about… With a girlfriend… And a cold brew… And a sailboat too… Yeah, that sounds about right.

So where are we, Wednesday? Damn, still Monday morning. Well this is going to be a great week I can tell, so I am just going to jump right into it. I will get busy, but I will leave you with a look at Earth’s Survivors Watertown.

Watertown is much different than the other Earth’s Survivors books. It does deal with some of the same characters, and the same town, places, but the focus is on the lives those characters lived before the apocalypse came along and skewed it all. I hope you enjoy the preview and I hope you use the links at the end of the preview to get yet another preview or download the book. I will be back on Wednesday, Jay…

EARTH’S SURVIVORS: WATERTOWN

By Dell Sweet

Copyright © Dell Sweet 2016, all rights reserved.

 

Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2014 by Wendell Sweet

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2016 Wendell Sweet and his assignees. The Names Dell Sweet and Geo Dell are publishing constructs owned by Wendell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission. All rights foreign and domestic are retained by the Author and or his assignees.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

Cover art Copyright 2016 Wendell Sweet

Watertown Center

Shop and Stock

April Evans

“Going home?” Alice Chambers asked.

“Yeah,” April agreed. It was early morning, the sun just coming up, shining through the dirty front windows of the store.

“I could drop you. I know it’s not a long walk, but if you wanted a ride, you know,” she blushed and her face colored.

The Shop and Stock was on the main highway nearly directly across from the entrance to Lott road. It was a half mile down the road to the trailer park. Not far. She walked it all the time, including early morning and late evening.

April’s rule of thumb with Alice was not to lead her on. Not to give her false hope. Alice wanted to be with her, it was clear. There had been a time when they had been together, but that was over and had been over for nearly a year. She didn’t want her to think that it might start up again. Letting her give her a ride home might make her think that there was hope. It might, and that could hurt her and she didn’t want to do that.

“I think the walk would do me good, besides it’s just incentive for me to buy a car,” April said.

“You’re saving?” Alice asked. Her face had become sad when April hadn’t said yes. Her sad eyes were magnified behind her thick glasses.

“No, but I hope to be… That’s the incentive part. It’s just that it costs so much to live…” April stopped, regretting she had said as much as she did.

“Well they say two can live as cheaply as one,” Alice said. Her eyes became hopeful again.

Sometimes April wondered why she didn’t just do it. Almost everyone at work thought she and Alice were an item anyway. Guys at work didn’t even hit on her anymore, and occasionally she would catch girls looking at her speculatively, like the new girl, Haley, beautiful: She had some sort of tribal tattoo that covered one arm and disappeared under her sleeve. It peaked out when her shirt lifted enough to bare her stomach, making April wonder where else it went. Dark blue against brown skin. She had been looking at her, wondering about where that tattoo might go one day last week when Haley had caught her. They had both smiled and looked away.

“You didn’t say anything,” Alice said.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out… You know, maybe two can live as cheaply as one… I guess it is something to consider,” April said. She had no idea why she had said it except that it was true. She had two guys at the trailer park that were interested. She couldn’t stand either one of them, but they were persistent. And she supposed it was only a matter of time before something happened. Probably something she didn’t want to happen. She kept an aluminum bat next to the door, but she was a young woman living alone in a bad place. It was probably only a matter of time.

Alice was smiling up of her. “Are you sure about the walk? It’s such a bad place,” Alice said, echoing her thoughts.

“Sure… You’re right, Ali. Listen, I have a cold six-pack in my fridge, if it didn’t stop working again that is, maybe we could have a couple of beers, unwind from the night,” April said. “It’s morning, but technically it’s night to us.” She laughed.

Alice positively overflowed. “Sure… I’ll… I’ll get some chips?” She looked at April as if asking permission. April nodded almost imperceptibly. That was how they had gotten together in high school. Alice asked, April had never said yes, just that tiny little nod, but that had been all that Alice had needed.

Alice hurried off now and April told herself she wasn’t building her hopes up to dash them. She was sick of the trailer park: Sick of her life right now. Before she ended up with one of those clowns on either side of her, she would move back in with Alice. She shocked herself with the admission, but then she realized it was the truth. Maybe it was the truth she had been hiding from herself, but it was the truth.

Alice came back blooming. A totally different woman than the shy, unassuming person she normally was. She walked close to her as they left the store. She could see Alice wanted to slip her arm through hers, so April did it herself. She just slipped her arm through hers as they walked across the parking lot to Alice’s car.

Alice seemed to be in shock, but a happy kind of shock. April was surprised, but it lifted her mood too.

Route 81 rest-stop

Watertown

Danny and Daryl

“Who would really know?” Daryl asked. “I mean really, Danny?”

They were stopped at a rest area a few miles outside of Watertown New York. The trunk was open and they had looked through what was there. It was far more than they had thought, far more than Carlos had led them to believe. Neither of them knew how much, but they had a good idea. They had already made small holes in four of the bricks and discovered they were dealing with both cocaine and heroin. And since the holes had been there they had taken a bit of each. Only a little: Nothing that would be missed, probably, but that had been three or four hours ago at another rest area when the curiosity had gotten the best of them. That and their withdrawals after a two week crack binge and the little that they had taken was gone.

Now they were trying to decide if they took a few full bricks whether they would be missed. There were eight bricks of coke, and six of heroin in the black duffel bag. That was a tight fit. They had purchased a cheap foam plastic cooler just outside of Rochester and filled it with beer and packages of lunch meat and cheese. They had purchased bread and other stuff for the long trip. Thinking all those weeks of not eating right would catch up to them and they’d be starving. And they would’ve been except they had gotten right back into the coke. They were numb again. Hunger was on the back burner once more. All their bodies craved were more cocaine and maybe some heroin to chase it.

Daryl pulled the zipper on the blue duffel bag and opened it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Danny asked.

“You know goddamn good and well what I’m doing,” he said.  He reached in and took one of each brick.

“Holy Jesus,” Danny said. “You’re crazy. They’ll kill us.”

Daryl licked his lips. “Maybe… But… Maybe we can blame that on the other guys. You know, they got the shit! They played with it. Our word against theirs, right?”

“Christ,” Danny said. His hands shook slightly, but then harder. Before he could stop himself he reached into the duffel bag and pulled out two more bricks, one of each. Daryl’s eyes bugged.

“I don’t know, man. That is a lot. Two is enough,” he said.

“To get killed over?” Danny asked. “Fuck that!  If it’s gonna get us in the shit and we gotta lie our way out of it we might as well make it worth it,” he said. He looked at the untouched ice chest, popped off the foam cover and plunged the bricks down into the ice. Daryl took a small chunk of the cocaine, sealed the brick back up and plunged both of his bricks into the ice chest too. They piled up the errant ice cubes and arranged the packages of meat and cheese to hide the bricks underneath them, breathing hard as they did: On the verge of panic.

“You can see the foil,” Danny said.

Daryl grabbed the plastic bag that the lunch meat had come in, fished out the bricks and wrapped them up tightly in the plastic. The bag was white and blended much better under the ice this time.

“Can tell, not really,” Daryl said. He had already sniffed some coke. Danny wasn’t far behind.

“Looks fine,” Danny agreed. “Let’s go.”

They both reached up to slam the trunk lid down, scaring the hell out of each other as they did. They laughed nervously and then got back into the car.

“Alright, I’m getting on top of it now, man… It’s gonna be all right,” Daryl said.

“Yeah… Yeah,” Danny agreed as he started the car.

Watertown

Thompson Park

Ben Neo

“This is a really big deal, Ed. As in a million plus, you see?” Ben asked.

“Sure,” Ed said. “I get it. Well, you mean a million plus as in more than a million dollars?” he asked.

Ben laughed. “Yeah, more than a million, Ed: These guys, well, I don’t know these guys. They’re really just hired flunkies. Pick up the stuff, drive it from point a to point b, that kind of thing. They’re probably not professionals. So we’ll have to make up for that by maintaining our own professional standards, Ed. We’ll just be cold: Aloof, removed. No laughing if they crack a joke. No small talk at all.” He handed Ed one of the flat black 9 mm guns. The one he had shoved under the front seat.

Ed looked it over. “Grips broken?” he asked. He fingered the tape that wound around them.

“No,” Ben told him. “That’s friction tape, stops them from getting prints… Most of the time at least. It’s what I call a throw away gun. Cheap, doctored up with tape in case I do have to toss it and I don’t have time to wipe it. Ground down serial number. Here’s a spare clip.” He handed him a clip. “The one in that gun is full, and there’s one in the chamber. I do that by putting one in the chamber then ejecting the clip and replacing that one in the clip. Then put the clip back in. Sometimes an extra bullet can mean a lot. All you need to do is flick off the safety, aim and shoot… You got that, Ed?” Ben asked.

“Yeah… Yeah… I do,” Ed agreed. He looked nervous. “Do you think we’ll have to shoot, Ben?”

“Sometimes… You can shoot, right?” Ben asked. He knew he owned a 9 mm and that he had taken a weapons class in Syracuse a few years back. He had carried a sidearm and had, had to train on a rifle when he was in the service. He had checked all of that out. He also knew he was a poor shot. Myopic, and even with his thick glasses his depth perception, which was critical to accuracy, was bad.

“Sure, sure, it’s just been a while,” Ed said.

“Just make sure you don’t shoot me, or yourself,” Ben said.

They were at the lookout in the park standing near the trunk of the car waiting for the other car. It could be a few minutes, maybe as much as an hour, Ben thought.

Ed nodded. “I won’t,” he said, unsmiling.

Ben had no idea what to expect. He knew what they were driving, but he had no idea how far out they were, all Tommy had told him was the make and model, a big silver-blue Toyota, and their names. They had picked up the stuff in Brownsville earlier that morning, and they were on the way. He popped the trunk lid and snapped open the catches on the big brown suitcase. Neat rows of bills: All hundreds. Ed whistled.

Ben removed one of the stacks, set it aside and closed the case. “Your pay,” Ben told him.

“How much is that?” Ed asked. His eyes were a little bugged out. He’d never seen that much money anywhere. Not even in gangster movies, which were his favorite kinds of flicks. It was a lot of money.

“Eighty thousand dollars per stack,” Ben told him.

“You’re kidding? I’m making eighty thousand dollars for this deal?” he asked.

Ben smiled and nodded. “I told you it was big.”

“Yeah,” Ed smiled. His mind was thinking about all the things he could buy with eighty thousand dollars.

Ben’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, looked at the caller ID window and turned to Ed. “It’s my boss, I’ll have to take it,” he said. He walked away leaving Ed to his thoughts and answered the phone.

Suncrest Trailer Park

Lott Road

April Evans

It started out bad and got worse. First Alice tried to kiss her when they got to April’s trailer. April had pretended she didn’t see it coming and turned it into an embrace. But once they were inside she tried again and they had ended up in an argument.

“It’s my fault, I should’ve walked home. I didn’t mean to lead you on, Ali, I didn’t,” April said.

“But… You held my hand. I know you want this just like I do. I know it. Why can’t we just be together? I don’t get it… You’re not seeing somebody else, right?” Alice asked.

“No… It’s not about that… It’s about compatibility… I’m not like you, Ali. How else can I say it?” April asked.

Alice broke down into tears. “But you are…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “You’ve made love to me, April; better than any man ever has… Ever could… You are like me,” she sobbed.

“I’m not,” April said. “We did those things. I was drunk. I was upset. I hated what had happened to me, you know that, it didn’t mean to me what it meant to you, Ali, it didn’t.”

Alice jumped up. “So I’m the one who is sick? Interested in the wrong sex? The Lesbo?” Her anger was barely in check. She was spitting the words out, tears streaming down her face.  “Well fuck you, April Evans. I know about that boy at the end of the road. The one you talk about. If that’s what you want, then fuck you, take him.” She ran to the door, flung it open and rushed down the steps. Her car started as April got to the door, and she heard the gravel spit and clatter against the aluminum siding of the trailer as she took off.

Two trailers over a curtain parted and a woman’s face looked out into the gloom of early morning. Her eyes nearly skipped across April, lingered briefly and then the curtain edges fell back together. April sagged down to the top step and lowered her head into her hands. She got up a few minutes later, went inside and grabbed two of the beers. She left one in the plastic collar, slipped an open collar over her wrist and let the second can hang from it. As she went back out she picked up the aluminum bat, closed and locked the trailer door. She walked out to the end of the gravel road that cut down into the trailer park and looked towards the end of Lott road.

There was a guy, not a boy that lived at the end of the road. She had mentioned him to Alice. She shouldn’t have. He was just a guy. She had seen him go by a few times, but he had never paid any attention to her. She had even waited on him at the store a few times. Nothing: He wasn’t interested; Alice had that all wrong.

She hefted the bat in one hand. There were wild dogs all over the place. They lived in the woods and raided the county dump where it backed up to Lott road for their means of survival. It was best to be prepared. More than once she had driven one away with a quick tap from the bat. She took one of the trails that lead out of the trailer park and cut down toward the end of the road. She sipped at one of the beers as she pushed some overhanging small branches aside with the bat. The sun was finally starting to rise, casting shadows along the dirt path. She wondered about the boy at the end of the road as she walked.

Check out the full book at these links: iTunes | NOOK | KOBO | Smashwords


 

Posted in Dell Sweet, Earth's Survivors, Horror, iTunes, Preppers | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment