Dying Days Ultimate Box Set 1

by Armand Rosamilia

  He didn't move.

  When she tried to sidestep him, he grabbed her left arm. He leaned into her and his breath was like rotting meat and bile. Tosha nearly gagged, but knew she had to get away from this crack-head or drunk and escape before she was raped.

  "Back off, dickhead," she said and pushed him away. He simply reached for her again. Tosha easily moved around him and ran down to the other end of the alley. When she looked back, he was walking slowly toward her. "Fuck you, asshole. Maybe I'll call the cops."

  He kept coming with that staggered, insanely slow stutter step. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Was he fucking with me, trying to freak me out? Playing some game?

  As he got closer, she tried to see his face, but it was too dark. Was he smiling, laughing, stoned? Tosha had all kinds of overdoses in the hospital, and she'd seen too many drug addicts with faraway stares or looks like they wanted to kill you.

  She walked backwards to the other side of the street, aware she was alone. A quick glance north and south confirmed her fear. There wasn't a person out this time of night. No cars went by on the cross streets, she didn't hear any traffic, not even a train rumbling by.

  It felt like an hour but he finally made it to the end of the alley and stepped out onto the sidewalk and under the street light.

  Tosha gasped. He was covered in blood, his mouth dripping with it.

  "Is this some fucking joke, asshole? It's not funny. Did you come from that lame party, and think you could fuck with me?"

  She puffed out her chest and planted her feet. She was headstrong and didn't run away from a challenge, even if it was a dumb idea. Her past was littered with dumb ideas, and she thought this was about to be another one.

  "Last chance to leave me alone," she said. He took another three steps forward, within ten feet, when she gasped.

  Something wet and bloody fell from his mouth and to the pavement. His eyes were glazed over and dead, his mouth slowly moving like he was biting the air. His arms were bent forward, straining at her.

  "Fuck this," she muttered and turned and ran.

  Chapter Three: No Time to Lose

  Tosha, out of breath, slammed the apartment door behind her and locked it, even the security chain. "Mathyu?" she called, hating that she'd used the nickname.

  "In here."

  Tosha went into the living room and wasn't surprised to see her sister, in her sweatpants and matching sweatshirt, spread out on the couch. Her fingers worked a videogame controller, a bag of chips at her feet.

  "I hit level sixty just now."

  "I need to talk to you." Tosha sat down on the arm of the couch.

  Her sister ignored her as she played.

  "Something happened tonight."

  "Did you get into a fight again?"

  Tosha laughed. Her twin knew her too well. They didn't have that Twilight Zone mind-link or anything psychic, but they knew the other one better than anyone. "Well, yeah, I got into a fight. But that's not what I'm talking about."

  "No one was on tonight."

  "Huh?" Tosha said.

  Mathyu pointed at the television and then picked up her headphones, sitting next to her on the couch. "There are only a few people playing tonight."

  "Normal people are out drinking, dancing, actually talking to real people."

  Her sister shook her head. "You don't understand. Even on a slow night, I have a choice of talking or playing with seventy different players, mostly in the hundreds." Mathyu dug a hand into the potato chip bag. "Tonight there are four others online, and no one I deal with. It's weird."

  "Can you pause that for a second? I had a really weird night, and I need to tell you about it."

  "Yeah, I'm going to turn it off anyway. It's boring tonight."

  "There was this weird guy in the alley."

  "Which one?"

  Which guy or which alley?" Tosha asked. Her sister had an annoying habit of interrupting stories to ask questions, like she was a detective. "Can I tell the story?"

  Mathyu shrugged with a grin. "It's your story." She logged off of her game.

  "Anyway, I tried to walk past him but he reached out and grabbed my shoulder."

  "Did you punch him out? Sorry, go ahead."

  "I pushed him away and ran."

  "Great story." Mathyu said and switched on the television.

  "You don't understand." Tosha stood up. "He was, I can't explain it; he was bloody and had strange eyes. There was something fucked up about him. His eyes were… dead. I know that sounds weird."

  "Actually, not really." Mathyu pointed at the television and turned up the volume. "What's going on, Tosh?"

  The scene on the TV was chaos, with a news chopper flying overhead and getting staggered shots of a large riot in downtown Pittsburgh.

  As the camera zoomed in closer, at least three people, covered in gore, were biting into the limbs of a small child.

  "What the fuck is going on?" Tosha said and stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  Her sister pointed to the top right of the screen. "What are they doing to that guy?"

  Tosha felt like throwing up. "They're… it looks like…"

  "Are they raping him?"

  "Yes," Tosha said quietly. "I could've been raped tonight."

  When the power suddenly went out, both girls screamed, the darkness absolute, especially with it being a cloudy night.

  "Where did you put the flashlights?" Mathyu asked.

  "I didn't touch them. Do we have candles?"

  The two collided in the dark and something cracked.

  "That better not be my game system," Mathyu said.

  Tosha struggled, through their apartment's clutter, to the window and pulled the blinds up, but it only offered a bit of light. Even the streetlight was out.

  Mathyu turned on a flashlight and handed one to Tosha.

  "What do we do now?" Tosha asked. She pulled out her cell phone. "Who do we even call at this point?"

  "The police, I would think."

  Tosha laughed. "Like no one else thought of calling the cops about this?"

  Mathyu shrugged and found her cell phone and sat on the couch.

  "What are you doing?" Tosha asked.

  "Angry Birds."

  "Are you serious? We need to do something."

  Mathyu shrugged. "Do what? We can't go anywhere, there's no one to call, and it's really cold outside. It will probably start snowing heavily in the next hour. I say we put on some warm clothes, chill on the couch, and play games until morning. Have you seen my GameBoy?"

  "Seriously? You're going to crash on the couch like nothing is going on and play video games?"

  Mathyu seemed to think about it for a moment. "Yes. We need more candles."

  "Unreal." Tosha was starting to get cold and decided to strip out of her 'sexy going-out clothes' and into something warm and comfy. It was going to be a long night.

  As her sister found her handheld gaming system, Tosha decided to grab something to eat from the refrigerator. "Want anything before I open the door? No idea how long the power will be out and everything will go bad."

  "A yogurt would be cool, and maybe some of the avocado dip."

  "Yuck." Tosha picked out two cold beers, a plate of cold pizza and some turkey, ham and Swiss cheese to make a sandwich. Her side of the fridge was filled with meats, cake, pizza, beer, candy bars and enough junk food to kill someone. Mathyu was a vegetarian, with the three crisper drawers packed with green vegetables and fruit, a stack of yogurt, mineral water, natural juices and weird-looking and -smelling dips for her wheat crackers.

  Tosha left her items on the counter to get to room temperature while she went to her chaotic bedroom. When she opened the door, piles of her clothes littered the ground, although, she had a system (she thought): clothes in the closet were clean, those just outside the closet relatively clean, and then her kinda-dirty clothes near the bed and the shit that stunk near the door. Once the smell was overpowering, she'd pick u
p the last stack and wash them.

  Her Muhlenberg College sweatshirt (an old boyfriend had gone there and bought it for her, right before he cheated on her) and gray sweatpants were thrown on. She decided against bra and underwear, getting comfortable. She grabbed her pillows and her comforter from the bed and decided she and her sister would make this into a sleepover and have some fun before they froze to death.

  They spent the next two hours talking about their childhood, making fun of each other, and bonding like they were six again. Wrapped in every blanket they had in the apartment, they drank and ate and fell asleep on the living room floor, the candles burning out and the world just outside their window going to Hell.

  Neither wanted to address the elephant in the corner: there was something unfathomable going on in the outside world and they didn't want to leave the comfort of their apartment or talk about what was going on out there. Not right now.

  The authors can be heard each and every Friday night on Surf 17 Radio

  97.3 LIVE from Flagler Pier

  www.flaglerbeachradio.com

  7-8 pm: Tim Baker's B-Side And Deep Cuts

  8-10 pm: Friday Night Writes

  10-midnight: Mando's Manic Melodies

  Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida, where he writes when he's not watching zombie movies, the Boston Red Sox and listening to Heavy Metal music...

  The "Dying Days" extreme zombie series is growing all the time, and he currently has over 50 releases on Amazon. His "Miami Spy Games" series by Hobbes End Publishing and "Tool Shed" horror novella from Angelic Knight Press are his most recent releases.

  You can find him at http://armandrosamilia.com and e-mail him to talk about zombies, baseball and Metal: armandrosamilia@gmail.com

  Rhode Island native Tim Baker relocated to Palm Coast in 2006 and immediately fell in love with the area. In early 2007 a bizarre dream inspired his first novel, appropriately called Living the Dream. Tim writes fast-paced, off-beat crime stories set in Flagler Beach and St. Augustine, full of colorful characters and loaded with unexpected and often humorous twists and turns. You can learn more about Tim’s work and how to contact him on his website at www.blindoggbooks.com.

  Dying Shortly

  Volume I

  Zombie Sampler

  by

  Armand Rosamilia

  Annie Morgan

  Clothes Shopping

  "Dying Days" sample

  Annie Morgan

  The weight of the tire iron was nothing compared to the sheer weight of what Annie Morgan was about to do. She'd never killed someone before, although her mind screamed at her over and over that he was already dead.

  Still, she gripped the cold steel and cocked her hand but she couldn't take the swing. He'd been a lover only yesterday. Though Annie had never stopped being herself - and no damn zombie apocalypse was going to slow down this insatiable sex drive she bore like a curse and like a badge of honor all these years - she knew that it was harder not to get attached.

  Especially when Carl had been the only living person she'd come into contact with in the last months. They'd run into one another like Annie always did: while rummaging through a store or a house, looking for food.

  It was simple how it happened: Annie with a bottle of Bacardi in her hand, the tire iron in the other. He walked around the corner of the bar with a two-liter of flat Diet Coke and a machete.

  Within twenty minutes they were behind the damaged bar of the restaurant, rum and Cokes flowing, clothes off and dirty hands groping for the touch of a warm body. Not a word had been spoken until they were done and getting dressed.

  "I'm Carl, by the way," he said with a laugh. He was in his late forties, trim and fit, with salt and pepper hair and a scar running the length of his right arm. He finished his drink in the dirty glass they were sharing and handed it back to Annie.

  "Come here often?" she purred and poured another drink.

  "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he said and leaned over the bar across from her.

  "Are your feet tired?" she asked with a smile.

  "Because you've been running through my mind all day," he replied.

  "I guess one good thing about the end of the world is I don't have to hear lines like that anymore for real. Plus, I get to have sex with anyone walking through the door of my bar."

  "This is your place?" Carl asked.

  Annie shrugged and rolled her eyes. "It is now, right? I think the owner died."

  "What if this was my restaurant?"

  "It's not. I could tell by the way you were looking for stuff, like you'd never been here before."

  "You a detective besides a bar owner?" he asked.

  "Just a horny girl trying to survive."

  "I can deal with that," he said.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking, fucking and trying to get comfortable in the ransacked building as darkness settled in.

  * * * * *

  Annie stared at the softly snoring Carl and sighed. Her life was filled with Carl's, guys who were nice enough, cute enough, good guys. She knew she'd grow bored with him sooner than later. She always did, regardless of what was going on in her world.

  She peeled off her clothes and went quietly outside, into the warm Florida air. It smelled like rain at any moment and she hoped it was so she could wash up and not feel so dirty all the time.

  Annie was pretty, and she knew it. At five-nine with a little extra 'meat on her bones' and a phenomenal bubble butt - her best feature, just ask her - she was a tough cookie who didn't take shit from anyone. Add in her blonde hair, blue eyes and great dimples and she was the complete package. Even at forty she was hot, and usually pounced on the young guys like a cougar.

  She needed something else in her life, though, as stupid and selfish as that sounded in these times. She wanted a man to take charge, to know what he wanted in life and in the bedroom. "I need someone to spank me," she said softly to herself and grinned.

  It began to mist, a gentle rain, cold on her skin and getting her excited. Goose bumps rose on her arms and her nipples stood erect, welcoming the damp touch of the water.

  "Is everything alright?" a groggy Carl asked from the doorway.

  "Everything is fine." She turned and faced him, hands on hips. "It would be better if you were inside me."

  * * * * *

  The next day she knew she was going to leave Carl. He was goofy and acted like a child when they'd made love in the light the next day, like he'd never seen a grown woman naked before.

  Annie wanted a biker dude, with big arms and a great ass, who could sweep her off her feet. She wanted an in-control man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it, and took her in his massive arms and made her feel safe.

  She also craved anal intercourse right now, but Carl seemed very reluctant. Yeah, Carl needs to go. She wondered how she'd go about doing it and decided to simply leave tonight when he was sleeping. Of course, she'd fuck him once more for the road, but it would be about her and not him.

  "There's a clothing store up the road," Carl said. "Maybe we could scout it out? I need a new shirt."

  "I need a new thong," she said and looked away in disgust as Carl got all giddy at her remark. Like a twelve year old seeing his first set of tits, she thought.

  "Where you from, anyway?" Carl asked as they went down the littered street, eyeing every open doorway and busted window. Last night's brief rain had done nothing to cool off the humidity and heat, which rose off the asphalt and blinded them from above.

  Annie stopped and stared at him. "You usually do the small-talk thing before you fuck a girl."

  Carl looked away. "I was just trying to get to know you."

  She decided to play along and not hurt his feelings. He seemed very emotional, and she wasn't ready to be anybody's momma. Besides, after tonight he'd be a distant memory, another notch on her belt. "I'm from Tallahassee. I was actually born in New Jersey but my family moved here w
hen I was very young. Before all this crap I was a second-grade teacher, if you can believe it." She idly thought of all the children's dads she'd slept with in her career. And a few moms, she thought, and felt the rush.

  Maybe she'd find some clothes and fuck Carl in the store as well. Because I'm horny and nothing more.

  The store was a small mom and pop, selling summer bathing suits and flip flops. She didn't even know how close she was to the ocean. She knew she was near A1A and maybe near Daytona Beach but that was about it. Since leaving Tallahassee she'd been turned around, chased, and hid so much she had no idea where she was. Did it even matter? So far she'd never had to fight, never been close to a zombie and never attacked. She knew she was quickly becoming the exception to that rule, with less and less living people and more zombies around every turn.

  She found a shelf with underwear but no thongs. Annie didn't think a bathing suit would be a necessity and didn't bother to look through them.

  "What do you think?" Carl asked, sporting a gaudy Hawaiian shirt.

  "Tourist," she said sweetly. She looked around. "This is a bust."

  She ignored Carl as he began pulling brightly-colored shirts off the racks and wadding them up to take. The stockroom door was closed and she decided to explore one last spot before they went back to the restaurant.

  The door opened without a sound, Annie holding the tire iron before her. It was dark, but nothing jumped out at her. She didn't want to go in, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up. "Carl," she finally said. When he didn't answer she said his name louder.

  "Yeah? Did you see this shirt? It has fish on it."

  She turned and wanted to hit him. "That's ugly. I won't go out in public with you in that shirt."

  Carl started laughing.