Zombie Extinction Event Novel #2 (Zombie Extinction Novel)

by c. s anderson

  I turn another corner and there is a very dead Jumper on the floor and Henry is leaning against a wall pale and shaking holding a bloody fire axe.

  I pin him to the wall with my forearm on his throat and put my gun to his head.

  “Are you bit?” I demand.

  His eyes are wild and unfocused and he is breathing in ragged pants. He is so covered in slime blood and gore that I can’t immediately tell if he is injured or not.

  “No.” He manages to squeak out.

  I keep him where he is for a long moment, the other people bitten turned within seconds and I want to be sure before I let him go.

  Finally I lower my gun and let him go.

  “Nice job kid, stay here until I send somebody for you. Use that axe on whatever tries to get at you. Hear me on this Henry, even if you know them do you understand?”

  He nods and leans against the wall again staring at the Jumper he just took out with an axe.

  Not bad for a student teacher.

  This floor is clear so I head down to the next level, there is a dead Jumper with three bodies missing most of their heads next to it. They are dead and thanks to double ought buckshot at close range, they are going to stay that way.

  Like upstairs gore slime and blood is splattered everywhere.

  Cleaning crew is going to have a cow man.

  I can hear almost continuous sniper fire from the roof, which I am really hoping means that Katrin and her crew are taking out the rest of the Jumpers from a distance.

  This level is clear, so I keep on moving down to the main level, I am relieved to find a large group of frightened looking people backed into the dining hall with a ring of armed guards protecting them.

  Even more relieved that Matt is one of those men.

  “Report!” I bark out as I walk up.

  “All Jumpers dead sir, still adding it up, but we know causalities are going to be heavy. We lost at least fifteen people.”

  I look where he is looking and already somebody has arranged the bodies on this floor in a neat little row.

  There are too many of them.

  But it could have been much worse.

  I take what comfort I can in that.

  I look them over and the first one I see is Father Mike. He is very torn up and there is a neat hole in the middle of his forehead.

  “Go with God Father.” I say reaching down to close his eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A runner comes down from the rooftop and reports that the snipers have driven back the mutated zombies and killed all but a few of them. Darkness is falling and I order speakers set up blasting music all night until we have daylight to see in again.

  It should keep them off of us for the rest of tonight anyway.

  Before I even have a chance to give the order, repair teams are busy boarding up all of the windows on the third floor.

  It is necessary of course, but has the feeling of locking the damn barn door after all the fucking horses have been stolen.

  I send a runner to find Winston and have him use the ham radio to relay this new threat to all who will listen. Much grimmer news than what I had him report earlier.

  A wave of exhaustion that I don’t have time for right now washes over me and threatens to pull me under. Joyce comes walking into the dining hall and I let out a breath, I didn’t even know I was holding, in relief.

  She smiles at me.

  What happens next happens in horrible slow motion.

  Cassandra is stumbling right behind her, an alarm bell goes off in my head, but before I can shout a warning Joyce turns to help her friend.

  Who growls and bites her hard on the hand.

  Two guards fire at once and the bullets knock Cassandra back away from Joyce who turns to look at me, with an almost apologetic look on her face.

  Then her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses to the floor.

  Somebody starts screaming and it takes me a few seconds to realize that that somebody is me.

  The End

  Special thanks goes out this time around to my favorite Beta reader Veronica Smith, a talented author and editor herself, she has always graciously given my manuscripts a read and pointed out dumb mistakes. Check out her own books including an awesome paranormal crime novel titled Chalk Outline available on Amazon.

  As always we thank the owner and staff of our favorite hangout The Pickled Onion in the Renton Highlands in scenic Washington State. Hands down my favorite place to write.

  I also thank my wife and editor Gail Borland Anderson and our partner in crime Oreo Harris. You guys both rock.

  One last shout out to a new fan who basically harassed me into finishing this book, here you go Mr. Ryan hope you really enjoy it.

  There will be one more book in this series coming soon from us here at Alucard Press so stay tuned horror fans! Check out the teaser for it on the next page.

  This is a work of fiction-any resemblance between characters and real people living, dead or undead is purely coincidental. Copy right Alucard Press 2016

  Zombie Extinction Event Novel #3

  WAR

  BY

  C.S Anderson

  Chapter One

  I stand and watch The Narwhal building burn.

  Flames pour out of the windows now, and with a shrieking groan the roof gives way and collapses inward. Smoke is billowing out and fills the morning sky.

  “We need to go.” Matt tells me simply as he comes up on my left. He has his pump action twelve gauge held at port arms and his eyes are scanning the area for any threats.

  The heat from the flames takes away the early morning chill a little, but I am still shivering as I watch the only home I have known since things went to shit a few years back, burn down.

  Viv, our new medic pointed out that burying the infected might just be polluting the water table with the pathogen, so we cremate our dead now. We lost twenty five people last night and they are all still in that building. They are part of the smoke rising up now.

  The building was compromised by the Jumpers, we needed a more secure location with higher floors that hopefully they can’t reach, so we scouted a new building. All surviving Narwhals and all our supplies have now been relocated to it.

  We are still here, the fight to survive still goes on.

  Standing there watching the smoke rise, feeling the heat of the funeral pyre for those we lost, on my face I make myself a vow.

  Survival isn’t enough anymore. Too much, too many have been lost.

  No, this isn’t a fight for survival anymore. We will use the new weapons that we have developed and change our tactics through the deadly lessons we have had to learn.

  This isn’t about survival anymore.

  This is war…