by Joe McKinney
Panting, exhausted, I dragged myself onto the roof and rolled onto my back, staring into the night sky, the one place incorruptible by zeds.
I saw Clutch, wearing one of his rare smiles, reaching out to me for a dance. Standing not far from us were my parents, holding each other’s hands and watching us with warm love in their eyes. Jase and Mutt were playing fetch. He looked up and laughed.
It was a good dream.
A soothing peace came over me, even while the zeds moaned and shuffled below.
I’d survived hell. Maybe there was such a thing as hope after all.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air, my body relaxed, and I smiled up at the night sky full of stars.
Afterword
100 Days in Deadland is set in near-future Midwest America decimated by a zombie plague. In this truly unique story, our heroine, Cash, and her guide, Clutch, are forced on a journey through hell that echoes the one Dante and Virgil took in the “Inferno,” the world-renowned first poem in Dante Alighieri’s epic medieval tale, The Divine Comedy. In both tales, there are nine circles of hell that must be survived, and the thirty-four cantos of the “Inferno” are reflected in the thirty-four chapters of 100 Days in Deadland...reimagined zombie apocalypse style.
100 Days in Deadland follows the pair of survivors, caught up in the sudden rush of the zombie plague, which begins on Thursday, the day before Good Friday. Once thrown into Dante’s “Inferno”, Cash and Clutch come across the three types of sinful beasts: the self-indulgent (zombies), the violent (survivors), and the malicious (Doyle, who represents Satan).
In each circle of hell, Cash and Clutch witness the same sins that Dante and Virgil had many centuries ago. However, where Dante often stood on the sidelines, Cash is thrown deep into the action. As Cash progresses through each circle of hell, she is changed by her environment. And, like Dante, Cash survives each circle by holding onto hope, having faith in her guide (Clutch, who represents the poet Virgil), and demonstrating unrelenting perseverance.
Like Dante’s “Inferno,” 100 Days in Deadland is a story of the human condition, showing how our experiences change us. You will find violence, heartbreak, and tragedy. However, you will also find perseverance, compassion, and hope. Dante’s “Inferno” also lays out four key components of every apocalyptical (and even every zombie) story: the end of the world as we know it, cause and effect of the human condition, perseverance, and—as shown in the poem’s last line—enduring hope:
“It was from there that we emerged, to see—once more—the stars.”
Symbolism to the “Inferno” is lush on nearly every page of 100 Days in Deadland, from the obvious call-out, “Abandon all hope all ye who enter here” in chapter three to the subtlest hints, such as Cash shooting awake to the sound of a “thunderous” blast at the beginning of chapter four. The weather, such as the violent winds and storms starting in Lust (when Cash and Clutch come across the victim with pale lips at the corn bin, i.e. the “carnal tower”), echoes both the atmosphere of the “Inferno.”
In chapter six, Cash ends up in a cafeteria full of hungry zeds, not much different from the sixth canto, which held tortured souls cursed with “insatiable hunger.” In chapter seven, when Cash and Clutch arrive at the Pierson farm, they find money left on the table, a modest reminder of the Dante’s message that money can’t buy peace.
Doyle’s camp represents Dis, the evil city in the Inferno that holds the darkest secrets and the most violent and treacherous sinners. Its true name is implied in chapter eight by the sign reading Doyle’s Iowa Surplus, where only the capital letters are easily recognizable in the faded paint, foreshadowing that the camp will play a pivotal role in the final circle of Hell, where Cash must defeat Doyle.
In addition to Cash taking a journey parallel to that which Dante took, hundreds more echoes of Dante’s “Inferno” can be found in 100 Days in Deadland. But, the story you just read is not and never was meant to be a replacement for Dante’s “Inferno.” It is not designed to help you get an “A” in English if you read this novel instead of Dante Alighieri’s epic poem. This story was meant to be an enjoyable read, which I hope is exactly how you found it.
CDC Case Definition: Zombiism
Zombiism (Marburgvirus Zonbistis)
2013 Case Definition
CSTE Position Statement
19-ID-52
Clinical Description
Zonbistis is transmitted to humans by direct exposure to infected tissues. The disease is characterized by clinical death, congealed blood, jaundice, stiff gait, insatiable hunger, and severe violent propensities. Infected hosts display minimal brain functioning. To promote transmission, Zonbistis enhances activity in the hypothalamus, thus increasing the host’s appetite and likelihood of biting, although the infected have shown less interest in eating, and the underlying reason has yet to be determined. The virus has proven extremely resilient and virulent, continually replenishing itself within its host. Only severe trauma to the host’s brain stem or destruction of the virus through fire is believed to eradicate the virus in the host.
If exposed to the virus, infection rate is 99.998%. There is no known cure. Upon initial infection, Zonbistis will take over its host anywhere from seven minutes to three hours, depending on severity of initial infection, level of injuries, and the host’s physical condition. At the point of the host’s clinical death, the virus is considered to have taken over.
When first contracted, initial symptoms include acute or insidious onset of fever and one or more of the following: headache, sweating, diplopia, blurred vision, bulbar weakness, hypoxia and/or dyspnea, nausea, vomiting, and shock.
Laboratory Criteria for Diagnosis
Detection of Zonbistis spp. in clinical specimen or isolation of Zonbistis spp. from wound or ingestion.
Case Classification
Suspected: Symptoms suggestive of Zonbistis.
Probable: A clinically compatible case with presumptive laboratory results.
Confirmed: A clinically compatible case with confirmatory laboratory results.
Comments
The virus is believed to have originated in a genetically modified pesticide undergoing testing in Brazil. When the pesticide was combined with an organic cleaning agent, the silica-coated cells of the pesticide were shown to have mutated into Zonbistis.
About the Author
Rachel Aukes is the bestselling author of the Deadland Saga, which was named one of the best zombie series by the Huffington Post. She also writes science fiction romance under the pen name Berinn Rae, including Stealing Fate, a USA Today recommended read. Rachel lives in Iowa with her husband and an incredibly spoiled sixty-pound lap dog. When not writing, she can be found flying old airplanes and trying to prepare for the zombie apocalypse.
Connect with Rachel at www.RachelAukes.com
To be notified when Deadland Rising and other books come out, sign up for Rachel’s email list.
Dead Hunger
A Flex Sheridan Novel
Eric A. Shelman
Copyright © 2011 by:
Dolphin Moon Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Cover Art By Jeffrey Kosh
This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.
Prologue
Jamie Leighton. Redhead, 5’8” tall. Fair skin, slight build. Pretty green eyes, and long fingers.
Anything – no, everything – but ordinary. But to the casual observer, there was nothing extraordinary about her. Most of the time she was Baby to her husband Jack, Mom to her two girls, Jesse, 8, and Trina, 6, and she was just beautiful to me. I miss her.
When she first turned, the aftermath was terrifying. I swore I’d help her if it was the last thing I ever did. Turns out it wasn’t the last thing or the first thing or any goddamned thing, because there was and is a shitload
of stuff to do and it never seems to get to be a smaller shitload.
I’m Flex Sheridan. Jamie used to share my last name with me. My baby sister.
I’ll tell you how this started. The process will introduce you to me and my friends, but your guess will be as good as mine as to what comes next for us in this bizarre new world. Any other time I’d sound crazy as shit, but if you’re reading this, then you know I’m not.
The dead have risen. Either that or they never quite made it into the ground, but either way I’ll tell you this: They’re out there and they are hungry. And getting hungrier every day. They are persistent. And they have more ingenuity and instinct than I’d have ever given them credit for in the beginning.
And they have some abilities that concern us greatly.
I’d started using the term abnormals to describe them because Jamie’s one of them. As much as I knew they were similar to – fuck that, they were zombies and there’s no way to get around it – I couldn’t bear calling them that name. It seemed to be disrespectful to my sister. Hemp and Gem humored me in that respect initially, but we all eventually gave up the ruse. Zombies they were, and zombies they would ever be until intense brain trauma.
But even in the beginning, in the heat of a good fight, we all slipped the Z word occasionally. I sure as hell didn’t treat any of these zombies with any semblance of the kindness that I gave my sister. Not even close. And my sister was so not my sister anymore.
I’ve been reluctant to use the word zombie, because I don’t want to give this recount of our experiences anything like a comic feel. There’s nothing funny about it, and again – if you’re alive to read this, then you know that already. There is not much laughing going on these days.
Nowadays the only person who can make me laugh is Gem. Gemina Cardoza is her full name, but she hates it. Says her name sounds like a syrup spokesperson. So she goes by Gem, which is fine by me, because she is my precious gem, that’s for sure.
She’s out rounding up supplies with Charlie right now. You might wonder, in a world where zombie-like creatures are wandering the earth, why I’d let her go with someone else besides me. That’s because you don’t know Gem, and you don’t know Charlie. If you did, you wouldn’t wonder. I’m wearing the other half of our two-ways, and if they get in any trouble, I’ll get a double-tap on the talk button. That means they’ve run into some of them. If I get a triple tap next, that means they’ve dispatched them by bullet or arrow, and we’re back to cool.
But if I get a single tap first, or after the double tap, that means COME NOW WE’RE FUCKED and that means no time for punctuation or mixed case letters.
We carry automatic weapons and other fun toys, and we’ve got pretty good experience using them. Heck, we’re even teaching the six-year-old how to handle a gun, and surprisingly, she’s coming along pretty well. Nonetheless, none of us have gotten killed or wounded yet, and we’re skilled enough that we don’t waste a lot of ammo.
Fuck if I didn’t knock on some wood after I wrote that just now.
If I hear a single tap on that walkie, or even think I heard one, then as many of us as are left at the base head out fast. We have an itinerary. I know where they’re going. We have flare guns, too. I know where to look and when I see the flare, I head for it. Our vehicles are fortified and fast, and we make good time. We’re always heavily armed when we’re out in the wild world.
We got each other’s backs. In this world, you need a partner or you’re dead. Gem is mine. And I’m hers.
And now we have little Trina and of course Bunsen and her brood. But that’ll come later. That part should be told a little at a time.
Hemphill Chatsworth is one of us, part of our posse, if you will. He goes by Hemp and he’s British. That doesn’t mean anything to you or me, but I’m telling you to explain his name. He’s definitely not southern born.
Hemp’s 32 years old and he’s a scientist. He’s got two degrees that have come in very handy since the plague, or whatever you want to call it, came along. He’s got a Biology degree with a major in Epidemiology. He couldn’t have gotten that shit more perfect except that he also got his Engineering degree. Mechanical engineering. So not only did the son-of-a-bitch want to know how the human body worked, he wanted to know how machines worked and how to design them. His mind works in images. We talk about something we need – in particular, something to wipe out large numbers of zombies at once, and he visualizes it; creates it in his mind. We’ve yet to build any of them, but Gem, our resident artist, has laid out some sketches of his equipment, and I know they’ll be effective. These raw blueprints are structured in his mind’s eye, and Gem’s hands help make them a buildable reality.
With Hemp’s two degrees, clearly his parents had too much money, but now he’s ours; mine and Gem’s, and nobody better ever try to take him away from us.
And it’s only recently that we met. But if he tries to leave, we’ll either follow him or kill him. Okay, I’m kidding there. Killing him would do no good, but that’s how strongly we feel about Hemp. We’ve got a good partnership, though, and if he needs something, Gem and I are going to do our damndest to get it for him. Either way, he’s not going anywhere without us. The guy is a genius, and we can use a good genius for like – forever.
Go ahead. Picture him. You’ll be wrong. The guy looks just like a So-Cal surfer. He’s around 5’10”, sandy blonde hair, muscular. His father was half Irish and half Indian, so he has dark skin, but his mother was a petite blonde, so he’s got that towhead thing going on. And he got his mom’s blue eyes. So far he’s borderline single, but it looks like that’s about to change. The right woman for a guy is definitely harder to come by these days, but Gem and I are thinking that’s worked itself out.
Yep. Charlie’s a girl. I think I’d like to tell that part of the story in order, too. But suffice it to say she loves her heavy metal rock, she is proficient with a crossbow, and we’re pretty sure that Hemp digs her. And besides that, Gem and I are convinced that her apprenticeship with Hemp in the lab isn’t solely because she has a fascination with science.
Wow. All that shit happened in less than four days. Unbelievable.
So you’ll meet Charlie later. But with or without a woman, Hemp has his lab, and it really is his world. Like a kid at Disneyland, he has to force himself to leave it, or be dragged out.
No radio taps from Gem or Charlie so far, and that’s good. If they double tap me, I won’t be good for shit until the triple comes. In fact, I’m already about to jump out of my skin and into my truck.
So while Gem and Charlie are out hunting-gathering, Hemp’s in the mobile lab, and I’m working on this, you ought to get to know me. I’m writing this down, and I’m trying to include all the words exchanged between us along the way so you can see how we dealt with things. This was all new, so we had nothing at all upon which to base how we should react to anything that happened.
Now, we’ve got lots to do, so there’s not a ton of time for me to get into the beginning of this – well, my beginning. Everyone’s is different. Equally horrible, I’m sure – I don’t have any copyright on that shit – but different.
With a name like Flex, people remember me. But just because of the name. Physically, I’m nothing too oddball. Six feet tall, medium build. 45 years old. I got a square jaw and a goatee, green eyes. I keep my hair trimmed short because Gem or I do the cutting and it’s easier. Overall, I’m your generic American male.
Jamie was born about six years after me. She’ll be thirty-nine on her next birthday, but one way or the other, I’m pretty sure she won’t be celebrating it.
Right now I’m in Georgia, back home. And since it’s July, it’s hot. But just over three days ago, when I first found out that Jamie needed my help, I jammed to Florida. And since I can only tell this part of the story from my perspective, then that’s what you’re gonna hear. Brace yourself.
It’s fucked up.
Chapter 1
Flex Sheridan’s Chronicle
>
Late June, 2011
“Hey, Flex,” her voice said, recognizing my number on her cell phone. She sounded tired.
“Afternoon, beautiful. How are my girls? I was thinking about heading down to see you guys. It’s been six months.”
Jamie sighed. “I’m not sure now’s a good time, Flex. Jack and the girls are fine, but I have a headache. A doozie.” She sounded more distracted than disappointed.
“That sucks,” I said. “Migraine?”
There was a pause on the line. “Yes and no . . . not really. Not the normal one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how . . . fuck! Fuck!”
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” She never cussed, and two fucks in a row was unheard of. There was more silence.
“Jamie?”
“I’m here,” her voice came, weaker. “I didn’t have the prisms, you know? How I always see prisms in my peripheral vision before one of these comes on? I felt restless, not able to sleep, but having dreams while I was wide awake, like fantasies of . . . of . . . I hate to even say it, but, like cannibalism. Scared the heck out of me, Flex. I don’t . . . ” She trailed off again.
I waited, but had to prompt her.
“Like what? Nightmares?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Not like normal nightmares. These were like flashes. Pictures. Images. Just brief, terrible . . . Fuck! Hold on.”
