The Zombie Uprising Series
M.A. Robbins
Contents
The Awakening
The Gauntlet
The Citadel
The Hybrid
The Reckoning
The Awakening
Book One in the Zombie Uprising Series
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
When’s the next book coming out?
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2018 by M.A. Robbins
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For George Romero, the Father of the Modern Zombie Film. Without his contributions, this book wouldn’t have been written.
1
The day the sun is blotted from the sky, and the winds of hell are upon us, is the day death takes possession of our land.
His late grandmother's words burst unbidden into Leo Nageak's mind as he opened the ATV's throttle and sped along the coastal tundra to Wainwright. Scorching wind buffeted his face, sending his shoulder-length hair whipping behind him. It was the fiercest heat he'd ever felt in his eighteen years on the tundra.
But it would have been worse if the sun were out. Overcast as hell, with roiling black and gray clouds, the weather had forced him to turn on his headlights. Death takes possession of our land.
Thirty minutes after he left Point Wallace, the headlights revealed a gaping hole in the earth and he pulled the ATV to a shuddering stop. The damn crater was big enough to swallow him and his four-wheeler whole. He hopped to the ground and removed his rifle from the ATV's gun scabbard. Peering around in the dim light, he scanned the horizon for any movement. An elder had encountered an aggressive young grizzly in the area a few days before, so Leo wasn't taking any chances.
Satisfied no danger lurked nearby, he walked to the edge of the hole and sighed. There were more appearing every day. The damn heat had been so bad, he wondered if the coast wouldn't melt into the sea. Even the elders said they'd never seen weather like it. According to his uncle's thermometer, it had hit ninety-five degrees the day before. Had to be a record.
Gazing out over the whitecaps in the Chukchi Sea, he considered his options. He didn't want to turn around, but what other choice did he have?
Maybe the ground isn't so bad inland.
He turned toward the shadow of Iqsigi Mountain in the east. He could ride up to its base, cut south, and still make it to Wainwright in decent time.
They called it a mountain, but it was nothing more than a big hill. He peered at it just as a small break appeared in the clouds. Iqsigi Mountain. His Inupiaq wasn't so good, but that's one word everyone knew. Of course, no one mentioned it if they didn't need to. If they did, they called it by its English name. Fear Mountain.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and hopped onto his four-wheeler. The elders had long taught that spirits lived in the mountain and would carry any intruders inside, never to be seen again.
"Bullshit."
Leo smiled that he'd said that out loud. As much as he might deny it, the damn stories still got to him. But a little tough talk would help keep his childhood fears at bay.
"Screw it."
He eased the throttle open and guided the ATV toward the mountain. The clouds closed in, plunging the area into a dusk-like darkness. Fat raindrops fell. Leo kept the speed low as the ATV bounced and bucked over the uneven ground, but the more inland he traveled, the smoother it became. He increased his speed.
The mountain grew larger, a big hulking shadow. He smacked his lips. His mouth had gone dry and he found it hard to swallow.
He'd swing by just in front of the mountain and be past it in twenty minutes. He increased speed again.
A flash of lightning shot across the sky, and thunder boomed, echoing through his bones. He gunned the throttle, and the ATV leapt. Rain poured down, and a lightning bolt spidered from the clouds, stabbing the mountain halfway up its slope.
Let me get through this. Let me get through this. Visions of spirits snatching him off his four-wheeler and dragging him into the mountain came unbidden.
Leo kept his attention on the glow from the headlights spread out in front of him. Tundra zipped by, with the occasional small bump shaking the lamp. Halfway past the mountain, the edge of a crater appeared out of nowhere. Leo released the throttle and jerked on the brakes. The ATV rattled and skidded. Hitting something solid, it stopped, but Leo kept going.
He flew through the air, weightless, then gravity kicked in and slammed him on his back to the ground, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs.
As he lay there, rain peppered his eyes and filled his open mouth, causing him to choke and struggle for breath. Then came the first jolt of pain. His back ached and his left calf burned, as if a hot poker were jammed in it. He coughed and cleared the water from his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he gagged at the thick smell of decay that assailed his nostrils. He turned his head and puked.
When he regained his breath, he looked around. Other than misty rain in the ATV lights shining above him, everything was blackness.
He moved his outstretched arms in the dark, and one hand landed on something cold and soft, almost like a fish's underbelly. He squeezed, and it made a disgusting squishy noise.
What the hell?
When he attempted to sit up, his left leg flared into agony. He fell back and panted.
No one knows I'm here. Gotta get up or I'll die.
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled his lighter out. The one his uncle had recently given him. He rubbed his thumb across the Marine Corps symbol on the outside, then flipped it open and rolled the wheel. Sparks flew and the wick lit, producing an orange-and-blue flame. Leo raised the lighter and his breath hitched.
He lay in a pit of frozen bodies, their mouths open in silent screams, arms outstretched, and legs in mid-stride. It was as if they'd been flash-frozen.
Or buried alive in the permafrost.
Leo cried out and sat up, the searing pain making him light-headed. He gritted his teeth and held the lighter over his left leg, examining it. A broken bone stuck out from the side of his calf, its splintered end red with gore. He swallowed. How the hell would he get out of there with a compound fracture?
But something about the bone's angle didn't look right. He moved the lighter's flame closer to the injury, then traced a finger gently down his shin, from the knee to the wound. Smooth. No break.
He gasped. The bone wasn't sticking out of his calf, it was sticking through his calf.
I'm impaled on a dead man's bone!
The lighter's flame blew out, plunging him into the graveyard's blackness. Leo groaned. He had to get free, but every movement brought a
fresh wave of agony.
The rain stopped, but darkness remained. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Sure, he was soaked from the rain and the pooled water in the pit, but how could he be so cold when sweat still poured down his face? Maybe he was in shock. If so, he was running out of time.
The wind died, leaving him with the putrid smell of thawing dead flesh. He tried breathing through his mouth, but that made it worse. Instead of just smelling the rot, the odor was so thick, it was like tasting it. Bile rose in Leo's throat and he choked it back. Ignore it. Concentrate on getting out of here.
He lit the lighter and held it closer to his wound. The calf didn't seem to be bleeding much, but that could change once he pulled it off the bone. He took his jackknife out of his pocket and cut his pant leg off. Not the best bandage, but it would have to do until he could get back to the village.
A scuffing sound came from the inky blackness beyond the lighter's weak glow. Leo's heart raced. His damn rifle was still with the four-wheeler. He raised the lighter and pointed the knife at the sound. Did spirits make sounds? Or was it the grizzly the elder had encountered, feeding on human carcasses? Either way, he was screwed.
Leo held his breath and tilted his head, listening. The sound didn't repeat, so he folded the knife and put it back in his pocket. He pulled his belt off. It'd be a serviceable tourniquet if he needed it, but he hoped that wouldn't be necessary. He had to catch a break at some point.
He peered over his shoulder. The edge of the grave, and his ATV, were a good ten feet away. From the way the four-wheeler's headlights shone over him, he figured he lay about three feet below ground level. The four-wheeler was still running, so it would likely be drivable. But how much fuel would it have left? Would he make it back, or die alone out there?
Don't think that way.
He steadied himself, his hands outstretched and propped on body parts. The damn things seemed to be thawing faster than when he'd first touched them. He pushed on the chest of a bearded man next to him, and it let out a belch. The stench gagged Leo and he turned away to keep his lunch from coming up again.
He waited for a minute, gathering his thoughts, then nodded. "Now or never."
Reaching out, he grasped just below his kneecap with one hand, and around the ankle with the other. One, two, three.
He pulled with his hands at the same time he pushed up with his leg. A wail welled from deep inside him, burning his throat and lungs with its intensity. His leg came halfway off the bone and stopped. Motes swam before his eyes and the world spun. Stay awake. Please let me stay awake.
Sobbing, Leo took great, heaving breaths and pulled again. The leg popped off the bone, but he didn't have the strength to ease it to the ground. Instead, it slammed down and all went black.
Leo's eyes popped open to a light show in the sky. Streaks of lightning crisscrossed above him, bathing the area in flashes of daylight.
How long had he been out?
His back throbbed and he struggled to sit up, a groan escaping his lips. Blood oozed from the gaping hole in his leg. Leo tried to bend it to get a closer view of the calf, but his leg remained motionless.
Shit. I can't even feel the damn thing.
Leo wrapped the pant leg around the wound. Even if he was protected from the pain, it didn't mean it wouldn't start bleeding the minute he moved. He scooted backward, then pulled his wounded leg after him. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on getting to the edge of the pit. Scoot. Drag. Scoot. Drag.
A heavy crack came from somewhere in the darkness before him. Shit. Whatever it was, the damn thing was huge.
A crashing sound to the left. And it's got company.
Leo strained to go faster, his breath coming in great gasps. Tears poured down his face, but he didn't stop as he imagined a pair of grizzlies bearing down on him, just out of sight. What would it feel like to be torn in half by two of those monsters?
The crunching, shuffling pursuers sounded closer. Leo's arms burned with his frantic pace. Where's the edge of this fucking pit?
He backed into a wall of earth. Wasting no time, he grasped the edge and pulled himself up. When his legs were all that remained in the shadows of the pit, he had a sudden vision of the unseen predators grabbing his ankles and pulling him down to his death.
Grabbing his left pant leg, he swung his legs over and pulled himself to the ATV. Through pure upper body strength fueled by adrenaline, he muscled himself up with the handlebars. The gas indicator showed the tank to be half full. He whooped and swung his right leg over the seat, hauling himself to a sitting position.
He looked around to get his bearings. Behind him lay home. He'd have to go slow all the way back. If he got thrown again, he might never get back on.
A rustle. A growl. That was no grizzly growl.
A gnarled hand thrust to the sky and a pair of yellow eyes reflected the ATV's lights. Leo's breath hitched, then an ungodly shriek split the night.
Leo screamed, opened the throttle, and spun the ATV toward home.
2
The de Havilland Otter shook as it banked over the Chukchi Sea. Jen Reed checked her seatbelt for the tenth time, then glanced across the aisle at Devin. He sat with his eyes half shut, the turbulence not making any impression. If her old man wasn't scared, then she'd be damned if she'd show it.
He glanced at her. She tried looking cool as the plane bounced again, but her knuckles turned white as she clung to the armrest.
The pilot's voice came over the speakers. "Getting a little rough. Just stay strapped down and we'll be on the ground in a few minutes."
Jen tried to tighten her belt, but it was already as snug as could be. Devin turned to her, one bushy white eyebrow raised. "You OK?"
Jen shrugged, an unnatural gesture since her hands still clenched the armrests. "You've been through one landing, you've been through them all."
Devin leaned into the aisle and lowered his voice even though there were no other passengers. "It's all right to be scared."
She turned toward him, a flash of annoyance heating her face. "I'm not afraid," she snapped.
Devin's expression didn't change, but he turned away and looked out the window. Jen could have kicked herself. One of the reasons she'd come on the assignment was to spend time with him. See if they could finally have a relationship. She pressed her lips together. She had to think more before she spoke, something she didn't have a lot of practice doing.
She peered out the rain-streaked window. They flew below the angry-looking black and gray clouds. Since it was July in northern Alaska, a time when the sun didn't set, she'd expected nothing but sunshine, but the weather patterns the past few years had been unusual. That, and there'd been historically high spikes in temperature. On the other hand, she wouldn't have been there if it weren't for the effects of the crazy weather.
The plane dropped a dozen feet, stabilizing with a slam that rattled the cabin. Jen waited for her stomach to catch up. She forced a smirk. "Next time I take a cab."
Devin made no reply. It was pretty obvious he wasn't used to her wisecracks. When not in the field, he'd spent his archaeology career in the stuffy halls of academia. It wouldn't surprise her that he'd never spent time around someone like her. But that's who she was, and he'd have to get used to it. Just like she'd have to get used to his lack of expression and periods of silence.
A village came into view, a cluster of houses huddled near the coast, with a large rectangular building in the middle and another on the inland edge of the town. A hill rose to the east, with a gravel runway on top and several large trailers on a flat area halfway up its slope. To the west was the sea and a smattering of boats.
The Otter swooped down, bucking and shuddering. Jen closed her eyes. Let it be over.
The plane bounced and swayed. Jen swallowed and let her head fall forward as if she'd dozed off. After several minutes she couldn't stand not knowing how close they were. She opened her eyes and did her best to fake a yawn just as the plane smoothed out,
bounced once, and settled onto the runway. She was thrown against her seatbelt as the brakes squealed and the plane came to a stop ten yards short of the runway's end. That's going to leave a bruise.
The engines cut and the pilot came out of the cockpit, a smile painted on his face to complement a salt-and-pepper beard and mirror sunglasses. He opened the outside door. "Welcome to Point Wallace, Pearl of the Arctic. Watch your step while exiting."
Jen followed Devin down the short stairway to the ground. The wind had picked up and whistled across the hilltop, while the rain had eased into a steady drizzle. A slight break in the clouds offered a sliver of morning light. From where they stood, Jen couldn't see anything but the churning sea and endless tundra. She felt a pang of isolation.
A white crew cab pickup headed for them. It stopped, and a slender middle-aged man with receding gray hair stepped out from the driver's side.
Devin smiled and shook the man's hand. "Hal, good to see you."
He turned to Jen. "Jen, this is Dr. Parsons. Hal, this is my daughter, Jen."
Jen hesitated. Hearing Devin call her his daughter felt strange. But Dr. Parsons was the other reason she'd come on the trip. A chance for a young environmental scientist three years out of college to work with one of the legends of the field was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. She smiled and shook Parsons' hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Dr. Parsons. I wrote a term paper on your work on the effects of changing weather patterns on migratory animals."
The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five Page 1
