Deadland: Untold Stories of Alice in Deadland (Alice, No. 5)

by Dhar, Mainak

  My men wanted to get even, and I was pissed. I was doubly pissed when the powers that be hushed up their deaths, since they did not want ‘escalation’. So I did what I should never have done, but seemed to do all too often. I let body organs other than my brain dictate my course of action.

  To cut a long story short, we went after the Chinese platoon responsible and wreaked some nice havoc. We attacked at night, and I had the satisfaction of shooting that son of a bitch officer myself. Callous, you think? Well, I don’t need you judging me. I’m the last man left in this madhouse, and I’m allowed my bouts of insensitivity.

  On the way back, after not getting a single scratch in the whole battle, I fell down a crevice after a landslide. I lost a leg, we lost four men, and my military career lost whatever future it may have had. I soon found relief only in the neighborhood pub. The Army at least paid for the prosthetic leg, I suspect in part because they didn’t want me to go to the media. In addition to all the rest, I shortly lost my wife. She walked out after I came home piss-drunk one time too many.

  I don’t think I need to make excuses to you, so I won’t try. Would I have done things differently if I could? You bet, but there’s no point thinking about that now. Everyone is a genius with benefit of hindsight, and everyone’s self-image is always a bit rose-tinted in the rear view mirror. I have seen too much shit to harbor any such delusions. I know who and what I am, and now it frankly doesn’t matter if I’m an asshole, because the only ones whom I can piss off or hurt are the undead shufflers below, and I seriously doubt they are the sensitive sort.

  Back after a break. They are down in the valley, clawing at some building. I really can’t figure out what they are up to. I am no expert on this, but I’ve watched my share of zombie movies, and at first sight, that’s what They seem like. Nothing more than bloody monsters out to attack anyone, and believe me, I’ve seen them rip people apart. But there’s more to them. I can’t figure out why they roam around, sometimes turning on each other, sometimes attacking buildings. And unlike the zombies you may have seen in movies, they do die. I’ve seen enough of them do that, and I’ve shot my share in the early days to be sure on that count. It makes no sense, but when they’re rampaging, I don’t want to take any chances. A few minutes ago, I got the rifle ready and drew a bead on them. I’m sure I could take out a few from here, but if they wanted to come up the hill in force, I wouldn’t last very long. But They never seem to come up the hill. Again, no idea why, but I’m not complaining. I may be lonely but They aren’t the kind of company I’d exactly invite over for dinner. Especially not knowing that I was the main course.

  CREDITS

  Coming up with the idea for a novel and writing it is often a solitary exercise, but bringing it to readers as a finished book is always a team effort. I’d like to thank the following for their help in producing the book you now hold in your hands. They, and others like them, make independent publishing much more enriching and rewarding for both authors and readers.

  Cover design & print formatting by Damon

  (http://www.damonza.com)

  Editing by R.J.Locksley

  (http://www.rjlocksley.blogspot.com)

  eBook formatting by Rebecca

  (http://www.indiemobi.wordpress.com)