An excerpt from my story “The Woeful Tale of Dalton McCoy”, appearing in full in The Zombist
Several months ago, one of the anthologies that I was thrilled about being a part of came out. It was crammed full with a ton of stories from many great authors writing in the zombie genre. Given that these stories all are set in the old west, it was even better, as far as I was concerned. I mean, what’s better than cowboys and indians? Undead cowboys and indians, of course!
Well, in an effort to help remind folks that this book is out there, and that you should really check it out if you’re a fan of either the western or zombie genre, I would like to post an excerpt from my story here. Now to get the whole story, you have to click on one of the many pictures of this particular book I have posted on this website. It’s picture appears on my bio page as well as the “about me” page. I will post the cover down below again as well, with the link to Amazon embedded in it.
Now I’m not just going to ask you to read this book. No, I’m going to ask you to read it and then post a review of it over on Amazon so that other folks can see what you think of it. You see, I love posting reviews, and I did so with this book on this very blog way back when it first came out. Alas, it is considered bad form for a contributor to post reviews of anthologies that include their work in them on review sites, so I’m steering clear of doing that on places like Amazon and Goodreads. So again, I would love it if you would post a review and give this fine book the attention it deserves. It is a wonderfully massive tome and I daresay worth more than every penny it will cost you to purchase a copy.
So without further ado, here is an excerpt of my story, The Woeful Tale of Dalton McCoy, which appears on the pages of The Zombist, from The Library of the Living Dead Press.
Shorty wiped the grit off his face and looked back for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was sure the posse was headed west but was still nervous. The paunchy man with the graying beard squinted through the midday sun and scanned the horizon. Still nothing—no dust trails or glimmers reflecting off a rifle in the distance. Relaxing slightly, he gently pulled back on the reigns until his horse slowed to a trot. After a moment, Dalton’s appaloosa followed suit.
“I told you no one was comin’ for us,” Dalton said, a sneer in his voice.
Shorty only grunted in acknowledgement. They hadn’t spoken much since fleeing that bloodbath back in Wichita.
It should have been simple. Henry had stationed Dalton and Shorty outside to watch the doors along with Brett and Everett Dean. The brothers liked bickering more than a couple weasels trapped in a burlap bag but were good with their guns. They were supposed to make sure no one went into the bank after Henry and the others went inside. Things were quiet on the street and it looked like it would be an easy job.
So when the first shot rang out and Brett’s head exploded into a mist of syrupy blood and chunks of brain, needless to say they were caught off guard. Everett recovered first. Even before Brett slipped boneless off his horse, his brother was off and running, screaming like a banshee and firing at anything that moved.
Shorty took a bit longer to figure out what the hell was going on as he sat in the saddle and stared dumbly at Brett’s motionless corpse. In a few seconds it became clear: the fine folks of Wichita hadn’t been surprised by the early morning robbery and were ready to go to war with Henry Jordan’s gang. Though they weren’t well known in these parts, someone must have recognized the outlaws as they rode into town. Shorty could see rifles being raised and people rushing behind whatever barricades they could find. Even so, it took the whine of a bullet whizzing past his head to snap him out of his daze.
Shorty spotted a man on the bank’s rooftop and fired off a shot at him with his rifle. As he did, he saw Henry stumbling out of the bank dragging Frank Greely behind him. They were bloody and limping and let loose with a barrage of bullets back into the bank. At the same time, Dalton was trading shots with a couple of men inside a barbershop across the street.
A few seconds later Shorty heard a piercing shriek and turned in time to see Everett flying off the back of his horse. There was a ragged, bloody hole in his chest. Henry had somehow managed to climb on the back of his palomino but Frank wasn’t so lucky. He had taken a shot in the leg and was crawling towards a water trough for cover.
Henry didn’t look back as he tore off down the street, even as the last three members of the gang came rushing out of the bank, guns blazing. Cursing, Shorty realized it was every man for himself.
Taking one last shot at the man on the roof, he heard the bark of Dalton’s peacemaker nearby. Thankfully, he was just a few feet away, still keeping the men in the barbershop preoccupied. From the look of things, Dalton seemed inclined to follow Everett’s lead and go down in a blaze of glory…at least until he heard Shorty scream his name.
Shorty made a quick gesture when he caught Dalton’s eye. After a split second hesitation, he nodded in response. Shorty fired off a couple more shots into the air to clear out the gawkers but Dalton did a bit more. Things got a bit hazy after that but Shorty later recalled seeing the gunman pick off at least two bystanders who may or may not been armed.
Dalton McCoy was one mean son of a bitch and fast as blazes with that Army Colt of his. When Henry suggested they rob a few banks up in Kansas, Dalton had been all for it…especially if it meant going to Dodge City or Abilene. Every one else voted against that particular idea, since those towns were the residence of two of the most famous lawmen in the west: Wyatt Earp and Bill Hickok. So when Shorty quietly suggested they target Wichita instead, everyone else agreed. Dalton just shrugged, knowing he would get the chance to take out some lawmen where ever they went.
Unfortunately, it appeared that Wichita had grown weary of rowdy cattlemen and even rowdier bank robbers causing problems and were prepared for Henry and his men when they rode into town.
It confounded Shorty that Henry had taken off to the west, in the direction of Dodge. That hadn’t been a part of the plan and now Henry, along with whoever else in the gang was still alive, were not only going to have to outrun a Wichita posse but quite possibly Wyatt Earp himself. It was certain he would be telegraphed about what had just happened to the east of him. Good ol’ Henry was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
The original plan had been to head northeast after Wichita, towards Emporia, and that was just what Shorty and Dalton were doing. The gang was supposed to meet up with Slim Jordan and Blake Fulton there and then head north. It made sense before things went to hell and it still made sense now.
As the two men tore out of town, Dalton agreed that they should head to Emporia, meet up with the other boys, and lay low…at least until things cooled down a bit. But as they got further away from Wichita, Dalton’s brow grew furrowed as he gave more consideration to their situation.
“Shorty, I don’t like Kansas all that much,” he announced abruptly, his voice shattering the silent desolation of the prairie surrounding them. “And Kansas don’t like me all that much neither.”
Shorty looked over at his new-found partner, whose stubbly jaw was clenched over a wad of tobacco. The gunman had a face only a mother could love. A few women had found the scar running from his forehead to chin darkly mysterious but most just found it plain repugnant. The thick white line came courtesy of a Comanche blade that nearly blinded him. The iris that was cut turned grey and looked eerie next to its brown counterpart. Looking Dalton McCoy in the eyes for very long was a decidedly uncomfortable experience. Shorty guessed the ugly scar was at least partially to blame for the man’s generally nasty disposition.
Sucking on his lower lip, Shorty took a deep breath. He had to be careful what he said. Back in Texas one of the younger members of Henry’s gang, a kid by the name of Billy Hughes, had claimed he was the fastest draw around and that nobody better mess with him. Well, no one paid much mind to his gum flapping…at least not until poor Billy made the mistake of calling Dalton’s drab old Colt a ‘broken down piece of shit’ right to his face. Before Billy could blink Dalton had ripped one Billy’s guns free of its holster and proceeded to pistol whip the kid with it. When the other members of the gang finally pulled him off the boy, Billy was almost dead. They dumped him at some Doctor’s office in Ft. Worth. No one ever really knew if he survived that beating. And after that, no one ever said another cross word to Dalton. That was why Shorty knew he had to choose his words carefully.
“We can head to Missouri, but probably should stop in Emporia first. I suspect you’re right that no one is followin’ us, but that don’t mean word won’t spread about Wichita.”
“More reason to head straight to Missouri,” Dalton said with an absent nod. He leaned back in the saddle as he paused to consider his surroundings. “I ever tell ya that I was born there, Shorty?”
Shorty shook his head. He had not spent time getting to know Dalton and didn’t want to now, but knew it might be wise to show an interest. “Nope, can’t say I knew that, Dalton.” Shifting in his saddle, he twisted around to give the other man his full attention. “You fight in the war?”
It was a tricky question but Shorty knew he had to ask. A man from Missouri claiming he disliked Kansas was nothing new but didn’t make clear which side he had fought on during the War Between the States. Missouri was a border state and had officially fought for the North but many of its people had sympathies for the South. A decade later plenty of Missourians still held a grudge against anyone Union, and especially anyone from Kansas.
Dalton’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Shorty, who felt a chill run down his spine.
“I ain’t no damn bluecoat, if that’s what you’re askin’,” the gunman said, his hand sliding towards his holster.
Shorty swallowed hard and raised his hands. He carried no sidearm, just the rifle. He was too fat and slow to give anyone reason to draw on him and wasn’t about to give Dalton reason to now.
“Easy, there, Dalton. I ain’t no Billy Yank either. I was just curious.”
Dalton looked at Shorty as if he were seeing him for the first time. The slouchy man wore a stumpy old hat and clothes that had seen better days. His scraggly beard and sun baked features made him look perpetually tired but his eyes were alert, taking in everything in around him. There was nothing about the man that hinted at loyalties to the North or South so Dalton suspected he would have to take him at his word.
He spat in the dust again as his eyes broke away from Shorty. He settled into his saddle and seemed to make up his mind.
“Emporia, huh?”
Shorty relaxed, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He nodded quickly. “It’s another day’s ride from here, but I know a little town by the name of Cassoday off the trail where we can spend the night.”
When Dalton didn’t mount any further protests, Shorty continued.
“Slim and Blake will meet us in Emporia. When we hook up with them we can figure out where to go next. We could head to Missouri or Nebraska…”
Shorty tried to keep from sounding like he was kissing Dalton’s ass but it was hard not to feel relief that the temperamental man hadn’t shot him down just for the hell of it. It wasn’t as if he weren’t capable of such malice.
Dalton shook his head slowly as he thought on what Shorty had suggested, ignoring the weasily tone in the other man’s voice. “Don’t want to head north of Emporia. I ain’t going anywhere near Lawrence. People might remember my face…” As he spoke, his eyes grew hazy, as if lost in some memory.
As they continued riding, Shorty thought on what Dalton had said. Lawrence wasn’t far north of Emporia and all he knew about the town was something about some massacre happening there during the war. Curiosity was eating at him but asking further questions might make Dalton’s temper flare again. So he kept his mouth shut as they continued up the trail.
The hot sun pounded down as the two men inched closer to Cassoday. Shorty told Dalton he’d never been there but suspected it was no different than any other piss-hole town out west. There would be a saloon and a couple rooms where they could catch some shut eye before heading to Emporia in the morning. That was all that mattered.
Shorty picked up the pace a little later, sensing they were getting close. Mostly what they had seen over the past few hours were herds of cattle heading towards the trains that would take them to slaughterhouses back east. They did spot a few buffalo, though the shaggy beasts were becoming a pretty rare sight.
Minutes later they saw the outline of a few low slung buildings off in the distance. It was a tiny speck of civilization on the flat, barren grassland and drew the eye despite how drab it looked.
As they rode closer, they passed a wooden sign welcoming them to Cassoday. The placard looked like it had seen better days, as did the town. The two men slowed to a trot and gawked as they passed a gleaming white church and the town cemetery sitting next to it.
“Shorty? Is it just me or does that bone yard seem a might big for a town this size?”
Shorty glanced over at the wooden crosses and stone markers spread out across a large grassy plot. It was only a few feet off the road leading into town and took up a huge chunk of land. He shrugged at Dalton’s question and instead focused on the town itself, quickly losing interest in the cemetery.
Dalton kept looking at the graveyard, his eyes gravitating towards an open hole at the back and the pine box sitting next to it. His eyes narrowed as he spied a man standing waist deep in the hole, his hand resting on the handle of what had to be a shovel. Behind him stood an old nag hooked up to a flatbed wagon. As Dalton studied the gravedigger, the man appeared to be staring off into space. As the two outlaws continued riding into town, the strange man’s blank expression never changed.
When Dalton finally turned his attention towards the town, he sniggered quietly.
“Hell, Shorty, this ain’t no town, it’s a flyspeck.”
Shorty nodded, agreeing with the blunt assessment. While there were a few structures spreading away from the main street, most of the buildings were directly ahead. There was a blacksmith’s shop with a small corral next to it, a general store, a doctor’s office, a saloon, and not much else. They saw a schoolhouse in the distance and a few other buildings off the road, but that was about it. They hadn’t seen any ranches or farmhouses on the ride in, but it was certain they were spread out for miles around the tiny burg.
Dalton’s eyes locked onto the saloon almost immediately and he was pointing his horse in its direction when he noticed the Marshal’s office directly across the street.
He snorted. “Well, isn’t that convenient. If anyone gives us any trouble in town, we can call on the local lawman to sort things out.”
When Shorty didn’t laugh at his joke, Dalton just grinned and clicked his tongue, urging his horse over to the murky water trough in front of the saloon.
If Dalton was nervous about there being a Marshal in town, Shorty couldn’t tell. Then again, it was highly unlikely anyone in Wichita would bother sending a telegraph about the failed bank robbery to such an insignificant place.
As they stopped in front of the saloon, Dalton took another look at the town. Cassoday was smack in the middle of the some of the most fertile soil in the country but the town itself looked like it had been plucked straight out of some wind lashed desert. Dry rot had taken a hold of most of the buildings and it seemed no one much cared. Signs were worn down, hard to read, and when the wind blew it made the doors and walls creak and moan as if they were in agony.
But that wasn’t the strangest thing about the place. It was the fact that no one was out on the street. Not a single soul.
Dalton was used to withered little burgs like this where farmers and ranchers spent their days out tending crops and cattle, but usually there were at least a few folks in town who would stare at the strangers riding in…but not in Cassoday.
He banished any further thoughts on the subject as they walked into the saloon. There were a few tables and a bar running along the back wall and a meager stash of bottles on some shelves behind it. A small stage that might fit two dancing girls was next to an upright piano that looked as worn down and washed up as the town. A set of stairs led to the second floor and more than likely rooms for rent.
There was a bald man behind the bar polishing a mug with a grimy cloth and a table filled with poker players, their faces buried behind their cards, but that was it. No one else was in the place and the silence, like out on the street, seemed downright odd.
No one raised an eye at the entrance of the two men, not even the bartender, who apparently was bound and determined to make sure the glass in his hand was spotless. Dalton made his way to the bar with Shorty following in his wake. When his eyes wandered over to the four men playing cards, not one gave him a look, even a nasty one telling him to mind his own business.
The sound of Dalton’s hand slamming down on top of the bar echoed throughout the room and made Shorty jump, but no one else appeared to notice.
“Bartender, give us two whiskeys.”
Shorty had not quite made it to the bar yet but got there just in time to see Dalton snapping his fingers in front of the bartender’s eyes.
“You deaf, boy? I said: give me a shot of whiskey!”
Shorty leaned his rifle against the bar and looked at the bartender, who hadn’t reacted to Dalton’s command yet. His hollow eyes were still focused on the mug he was cleaning as he slowly ran the rag over it one more time.
Dalton, never patient to begin with, gripped the edge of the bar, his jaw clenched tightly as he glared at the oblivious man in front of him.
“Are you trying to irritate me, barkeep?”
The low, growling words had no effect on the man polishing the glass. Dalton’s face turned red as he grew more enraged, his scar looking like a lightning bolt running down his face. Shorty looked down and saw that his partner’s hands were still on the bar top and not near his gun, which was something to be thankful for.
As quickly as his heavy frame would allow, Shorty rushed behind the bar. Grabbing a bottle off the shelf, he set it down, sliding it over to Dalton. Smiling nervously, he shrugged at the gunman. “I guess even the town retard needs a job, huh Dalton?”
Dalton’s eyes finally moved away from the bartender and studied the bottle of whiskey in front him. His expression changed slightly as he reached out and gave a quick tug on the stopper. The bottle went vertical and Dalton took a big swig. Slamming it down on the bar, he let out a hiss of satisfaction and ran the back of his hand across his lips. Sliding the bottle towards Shorty, he let out a sigh.
“I suspect you’re right about that.”
Breathing easier, Shorty relaxed, knowing trouble had been averted. Taking a small drink himself, he took another look at the strange bartender before moving to the other side of the bar. He was still cleaning that mug.
Dalton turned and leaned back against the bar, giving the place the once over.
“Well, this place is as dead as some of those buffalo carcasses we saw rotting out on the trail, Shorty.”
Moving forward, he pushed himself away from the bar and grabbed the whiskey bottle out of Shorty’s hands, taking another long pull from it. Bringing it with him, he moved towards the poker players. The men still appeared oblivious to his existence, even as he set the bottle down in an empty spot at the table and pulled up a chair.
“You boys have room for a fifth?”
Without waiting for a response, he plopped down in his chair, arms crossed as he waited. Leaning in after a moment, still oblivious to the fact that no one at the table was doing or saying anything, Dalton patted his pants pocket.
“I tell ya what, boys. I’ve been on the road for the past few weeks and I got a wad of cash burnin’ a hole in my pocket. Are any of you fine gentlemen up to the task of relieving me of such an earthly burden?”
Shorty stood watching from the bar, his eyes going wide and his jaw slowly inching south as the man he rode into town with talked while the stiff, ragdoll-like figures surrounding him ignored him.
Dalton’s good cheer began to evaporate as he realized the same thing as Shorty. For a moment, he sat quietly, his head moving back and forth as he tried to get a reaction from any of the men sitting around him. As he glanced at the man directly across from him, his eyes went wide with recognition.
“Jeb? Jeb Tyson? Is that you?”
He leaned forward to get a better look at the man he thought was his old friend. Despite Dalton’s excited words, the man in the tan cowboy hat kept his eyes glued to his cards, ignoring him.
“Jeb? I know you recognize me. It’s Dalton McCoy. We rode together for a spell in Colorado back in ’72. Don’t you remember?”
Dalton’s voice was friendly, neighborly even as he leaned forward, trying to catch the eye of the other man. Even as he reached across the table and gave a little tug on Jeb’s cards, his smile didn’t fade.
As the cards sunk towards the table, Jeb’s eyes never shifted from the spot they had been trained on and his expression never changed. It was almost as if he was staring right through the man opposite him.
With a sudden burst of movement, Dalton kicked his chair back and was on his feet, his weapon filling his hand. Shorty blinked, not quite sure what he had seen. Dalton’s movements had been a blur.
Inching backwards, Dalton made his way back to the bar. His eyes were wide and showed an emotion Shorty had never seen on his face before. He thought it might be fear.
“What the hell is going on around here?”
Shorty shrugged slowly, his face a study in confusion.
“I don’t rightly know, Dalton, but it’s probably best you put away that shootin’ iron before someone gets hurt.”
Despite using his most appeasing tone of voice, it quickly became clear that Dalton didn’t take kindly to the request. As the gunslinger turned towards him, Shorty took a hesitant step back.
“It’s okay, Dalton, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just think we probably don’t want to be stirring things up, so it might be best not point your gun at any of these fine people.”
“That is an excellent suggestion.”
Shorty and Dalton turned at the sound of the strange voice coming from the entrance of the saloon. Standing in the doorway was a man who certainly was unique, and not just because he was only person they had heard speak since getting to Cassoday.
Dressed in a dark tailored suit and ascot tie, he wore a bowler that rested at jaunty angle on his head. His skin tone hinted at a mixed heritage, but it was hard to tell what mix. His face was handsome, with bright blue eyes that stood out dramatically against a dark complexion. A bright gold pocket watch chain peeked out from beneath his suit jacket, prominently displayed against the backdrop of a red satin vest. A thin, well-manicured mustache completed the image of a man distinctly out of place on the frontier.
As he began walking towards them, it was clear he wasn’t just some city slicker lost in the wilderness. A glint of metal on his lapel told Dalton and Shorty all they needed to know about the man with the strange accent.
Dalton stared at the dandy, sizing him up before carefully sliding his weapon back into its holster. The man wore a badge but no weapon. Still, it was probably best to play nice for the time being. So he gave him his best shit eating grin.
“I’m not looking for any trouble, Marshal,” Dalton said good-naturedly.
The lawman slowly crossed the room towards a table near the piano. Gesturing, he motioned at the two men.
“Please join me for a drink, gentlemen.”
The words rolled off the man’s tongue with a lilt hinting that he might be European, though neither Shorty nor Dalton had much of a clue, given neither had been east of Ohio their entire lives.
The two outlaws looked at one another. Shorty looked puzzled and a bit uncomfortable but Dalton only shrugged, as if to say ‘what have we got to lose?’
They approached the table and took two seats opposite the Marshal. Up close, he looked even more out of place, his exotic features standing out in dramatic contrast to the dull, drab surroundings. There was a scent rising up from him, a smell that spoke of dark and mysterious spices from places far removed from the backwater prairie town.
“Well messieurs, as you have deduced, I am the Marshal here in Cassoday, and I wanted to welcome you to my town.”
Before either Dalton or Shorty could say anything in response, the Marshal was snapping his fingers at the bartender.
“Clyde! A shot of whiskey for our two guests, if you please.”
The outlaws turned and were stunned to see the bartender reaching for a couple of shot glasses beneath the bar. Turning, he grabbed another bottle of rot gut off the shelf.
“I prefer wine myself, but it is difficult to get in these parts.”
Dalton turned back towards the Marshal and squinted at him skeptically. Shorty, entranced by the marionette like movements of Clyde, kept his eyes glued to the bartender as he began pouring their shots.
Dalton put his hands on the table and tried to clear all the strange events of the past hour out of his mind. “Well, Marshal, could you explain to me how some…Frenchman becomes a lawman in Kansas? I’d like to hear how the hell that happened.”
The Marshal’s grin widened, displaying a mouth full of perfect white teeth. He laughed delicately and dipped his hand inside his jacket. Dalton tensed momentarily but realized he was just taking a small snuff box out from some hidden pocket. He slid off the lid and inhaled. Dalton could detect a hint of cinnamon in the air, which lingered even after the Marshal slipped the box back into his pocket.
“I am not from France, Mister…?”
Dalton shifted slightly in his chair. Shorty turned towards the table when he heard the question, his eyes darting back and forth between the Marshal and Dalton. For an instant, the saloon was quiet again, except for the creak of floorboards underneath Clyde’s feet as he made his way towards them with their drinks.
Giving the lawman one last assessing glance, Dalton finally spoke. “McCoy, Dalton McCoy. And this here is my partner, Shorty Shelton. We came up from Texas on a cattle drive and are lookin’ to find gainful employment in these parts.”
Nodding politely at the response, the Marshal waited until Dalton was done before introducing himself.
“My name is Jacques Louiviere.”
The lawman raised his hand to prevent Dalton’s interruption.
“As I have said, I am not from France. My father was Creole and my mother Cajun. I was born in New Orleans. I am an American like you, Mr. McCoy.”
“New Orleans, huh? That might not be ol’ Par-ree, but it’s still a might far from the prairie, Jock,” Dalton said as he lifted his shot glass to toast the Marshal, downing the whiskey in one gulp.
Jacques didn’t seem to mind Dalton’s slaughtering of his name and continued smiling. He also didn’t appear to be fazed by the gunman’s grey eye or scar that had unhinged so many others.
“Be that as it may, I am the Marshal of this town and it is my sworn duty to uphold the law in these parts.”
The words were softly spoken, with no hint of menace behind them, but it seemed clear what they meant.
Shorty, who was once again preoccupied with watching Clyde drift back to the bar, snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the Marshal’s words.
Dalton glared at Jacques, his eyes narrowing slightly, though his hands remained where the lawman could see them.
The Marshal leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together, as if he were about to pray. Instead, he rested his chin on his thumbs and looked at the two men, making sure he had their complete attention.
“And I think, Messieurs McCoy and Shelton, that you did indeed come up from Texas, but perhaps you made a stop in Wichita this morning, yes?”
Dalton suddenly felt the ponderous beating of his heart and panic filled him. This lawman—this effete, prissy man with no weapon and barely a town to protect was calling him out. It didn’t matter how he had found out about Wichita, just that he had. And there was a look in the man’s eyes that said he had the two outlaws dead to rights.
His eyes went to the windows at the front of the building. He squinted to see if there was any movement outside: a rifle sliding through an open window or someone climbing on a roof to get a better shot. But nothing had changed.
When his eyes moved back to the Marshal, Dalton’s mouth split into another grin. “Well now, Marshal, it looks like you know a bit more about us than we thought. Seems you have us at a disadvantage,” Dalton said with his voice low and filled with menace as his hand slipped below the table.
Now if you’d like to read the rest of this story, and 28 others that appear in this 450 plus page monster, click on the picture of the cover below and pick up your copy. And don’t forget to drop a review after your done. The publisher and all the authors would be much obliged.
Doomology: The Dawning of Disasters is live on Amazon!
Another one of the anthologies that I have a story in is now available on Amazon. Doomology: The Dawning of Disasters from the Library of Science Fiction, has a pretty self-explanatory title. Each of the stories in this one are tales of both natural and man-made disasters. My story, “You Only Die Twice” is sort of a spy/adventure story with a twist. So click on the picture below to head on over to Amazon and check it out. This sucker is almost 500 pages of mayhem at the end of the world. Consider it a prep manual for when the world comes to an end in 2012! 😉
Review of Remy Porter’s “Dead Beat”
Johnny Silverman is a policeman in a small town in rural England when the dead begin to rise. The reader is provided with a minor hint as to why this has happened, but for the most part, the plague that has caused the dead to come back to life is a mystery as we watch a few select people turning into zombies before all hell breaks loose across the countryside. Johnny is checking things out in a store when a woman inside attacks him. He narrowly escapes with his life and manages to get back to the police station, where Summer, a support officer, and Lester, the town drunk, barricade themselves inside while things go to hell quickly outdoors. At the same time, Jack Nation, a farmer, and his son Griffin, are coming to grips with this new plague as well. But despite the horrors they face, them seem more than willing to take advantage of the situation and bring many of the survivors together to build a fence around the town to prevent more of the dead from entering the area as they clear out the the undead from the town and surrounding region.
As Johnny and his compatriots start to sort things out in town, Jack and his son begin to thrive in a thuggish new world they have created, which doesn’t need the likes of people like Johnny and the laws he tries to enforce. Given that most of the people in town have fearfully thrown in with Jack, there is little that Johnny can do as the farmer becomes more and more willing to enforce his own laws and rules, ruthlessly if needed, to keep everyone following his orders.
Dead Beat is a fairly accurate title for this book, because Johnny has no beat anymore-the town is no longer his, and since Summer and him are the only remaining law enforcement personnel, they are seen as a threat to the new order. On the few occasions that he attempts to step in and assert himself as an authority, it doesn’t go over too well, and at one point I was shocked at how willing he was to give in to the demands of Jack and his depraved son. The author does a good job of giving Johnny a real human side to him. He doesn’t strike me as much of a hero, just a guy trying to hold things together and survive with both the dead and the living threatening him at every turn. And until things really fall apart for him, he doesn’t make a huge effort to stop Jack in his depraved ways, and by then, it seems clear that it will all end in tears for just about everyone still alive.
The author switches from third to first person, with the sections of the book with Johnny in them being told from his perspective. The story flows well from one perspective to the other and that wasn’t an issue for me. I do pride myself on being able to pick up on British slang for the most part as an American reader, but even so, it was a bit tough in places to know with one hundred percent accuracy what the author was saying. I don’t say that as a deterrent, because the language variations don’t detract from the story at all, they just forced me to pay a bit closer attention. All in all, this was a good zombie story with compelling characters. As is my tendency, I prefer character driven zombie stories, and this one definitely falls into that category. Johnny isn’t a hero by any stretch, and reveals tidbits about himself throughout the story that made it clear that he is most assuredly human and has tremendous weaknesses and even a dark side that reveals itself near the end of the tale. And despite the filthy depraved nature of Griffin and Jack, I can still see where the farmer had probably once been a good man and in his own screwed up mind was doing a good thing for the people of the community by building the fence that keeps the undead out. Lester, the town drunk who ends up sobering up in time, is another character who grew on me and proved that he wasn’t one dimensional as he transformed into someone fighting to discover the cause of the plague.
Overall, an entertaining zombie read that was definitely satisfying. Plenty of gore, plenty of action, and most importantly for me, plenty of characters that kept the story interesting from beginning to end.
Dead Beat can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Beat-Remy-Porter/dp/0956373364/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1297226757&sr=1-3
Strange Tales of Horror is now on Amazon!
I just wanted to pass along that the latest anthology that I am a part of has made its way over to Amazon. As I have mentioned before, this one has a great table of contents and I am pleased that my story, VRZ, appears among its pages. This one contains short stories, flash fiction, and even some poetry. And of course, it also has one of the most wicked book covers of anything I have been associated with. I think this one is going to do very well. Click on the picture to head on over to Amazon and place your order for this one. I myself can’t wait to get my hands on it!
Strange Tales of Horror is now available on Createspace!
NorGus’s first anthology, which I have my story entitled VRZ, is now available via Createspace, and should be on Amazon within the next couple of weeks. A great lineup of authors and a pretty wild table of contents for this sucker. Click on the picture below to go to the link on Createspace!
Review of Joe McKinney’s “Apocalypse of the Dead”
Apocalypse of the Dead is technically a sequel to Dead City, Joe McKinney’s story about the initial night of outbreak as the dead take over San Antonio and one police officer must fight to survive his night in hell. This novel actually takes place two years after Dead City, and the main character in that book is only briefly mentioned as the author of a novel on how he survived that night. What AotD is all about is the bigger picture-the aftermath of the dead rising up due to a new virus coming into existence after several hurricanes hit the gulf coast of Texas. Much of that coastline is now walled in by the government and the infected, along with those who survived the initial outbreak, are hidden behind those walls. The government’s long term response to the outbreak has been to set up the Coast Guard and a new organization (Homeland Security/Border Patrol) to man the walls and the water, and prevent anyone (living or dead) from escaping. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before some of the desperate scavengers and survivors who have been forced to live inside the wastelands behind the walls found a way to escape, and unfortunately, the boatload of refugees who end up washing ashore in Florida has infection running rampant amongst them. Thus begins the worldwide spread of the virus that had been contained in a vast swath of coastal Texas for two years prior, and so begins this story, which is told from the perspective of a wide assortment of survivors attempting to make their way up north, where sanctuary is promised by the leader of a church who has led his flock to the Grasslands of North Dakota.
This is a stand alone book for all intents and purposes. While I enjoyed Dead City and would recommend it, you don’t have to feel the need to read that first, although it does provide a fine introduction as to what has brought us to this point. Dead City has all the makings of a zombie movie-one night, a police officer trying to survive, and non-stop action along the way. AotD is more of a long term saga, and it does a good job of explaining everything as needed for the reader who doesn’t choose to pick up Dead City. The story follows the path of several different groups and individual survivors and of course, their stories all intersect as things progress. We have survivors all across the south lands: Florida, Mississippi, Texas, and California, all converging as their purposes and desire to find their way through the apocalyptic wasteland converge. There are plenty of characters that I enjoyed getting to know, gradually, as they revealed more and more about themselves and how they cope with the pressures of this impossible situation. There are plenty to like and dislike as I got to know them better, and the background environment-how the military, police, and civilians handle this madness, provides a believable atmosphere for the story. I was fond of more than one of the characters, and I felt that they developed and morphed along the way, often in ways that demonstrated their human vulnerability quite well. Ed, the retired Marshall, and Billy, the young convict he takes under his wing, were two particular favorites of mine. Their bond is a reluctant one at first, but grows with time and lends strength to each character’s development. Of course, there is a sizable volume of characters here, so a few don’t get as much attention as I would have liked to see-some of the female characters in particular didn’t spend as much time in the spotlight as I would have liked: Robin and Kyra in particular were compelling characters with obvious flaws who stood out for me and I would have liked to gotten to know in more detail. I think that is the challenge of creating a cast of this size for a story-you can never delve deep enough into all of them and keep the story moving aggressively forward. The author did just that: he moved this 500 page story forward at every step, keeping me focused on it page after page.
As I always try to do, I attempt to point out where I have concerns with a particular story, and I think here my complaints all revolve around Jasper, the head of The Family, which is the church that has set up a safe haven in North Dakota for his flock. I try to avoid spoilers in my reviews, so this might be a bit vague, but I just felt there were a few things that were “off” about this preacher. One of which is an amazing ability he displays early on in the story that is left unexplained to the reader there, or anywhere else in the story. Suffice it to say, it was startling enough to have me raise an eyebrow, and I really want to understand the “why” behind this remarkable ability. Another aspect of Jasper is more down to earth, and really has more to do with his ability to compel certain people than anything else. While I certainly can understand the power that someone with charisma and a ironclad belief system have in convincing others to join with them, a particular character who displays a strong sense of independence and unlimited conviction throughout the book seems to dismiss all of that and embraces Jasper’s message without question after a very brief discussion with the preacher. It’s as if everything about him before was turned upside down within a few minutes by a few well placed turns of phrase. None of this is outside the realm of possibility, but those two elements and a few other details about Jasper were perhaps the only significant concerns I had about this book.
Overall, this is an excellent read, with a real handle on a practical, functional infection that could cause such mayhem. These people are not dead, they are infected, and that infection progresses with the story. I would be interested to see some of the later stages of infection detailed out more in the next book in this series-the stage 3 zombies sound quite chilling with their possibilities and predatory instincts. AotD has a sense of realism to it (as much as can be expected from a zombie book, naturally) with Mr. McKinney’s knowledge of both police procedure, armed and unarmed combat, and disaster recovery on full display here. I would rate this one up there with many of the most memorable zombie apocalypse tales I have read.
Apocalypse of the Dead can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Apocalypse-Dead-Joe-McKinney/dp/0786023597/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1296420561&sr=1-1
Review of Ian Woodhead’s “Shades of Green”
Shades of Green tells the story of a small town in England, Holburn, where the world has been turned upside down. A flashback to an experience two brothers had in the woods with more than one mysterious creature before the main story begins introduces us to this tale. After that, the sense of normality we see on the page lasts only a short while before we are exposed to people within the town becoming irrationally violent and several seemingly hallucinogenic trips or dreams intervening in the normal experiences of a few of the different key characters. Soon, it becomes clear that these trippy visions are actually the new state of affairs in Holburn, with a strange mix of science and magic boiling out of the ground and causing the populous to change, to morph into new biological creations. They are changing genetically, with strange creatures and demons being the results of the transitions. A few select people, including Damien and his girlfriend Jen, appear to be immune to these changes, or at least transitioning at a slower rate than everyone else, who are either being sacrificed to the evil forces at work or are working for them. The few survivors are the ones that must get to the bottom of this mystery, which unravels rapidly as the story surges toward its conclusion.
I liked the idea behind this story. It was a strange series of events that often left me puzzled, but intrigued enough to forge ahead to see what might happen next and what might happen at the end of the tale. In all honesty, I’m not sure I quite understood the explanations near the end, or what all happened along the way and the reasons behind them, but once again, this is a hallucinogenic, trippy tale that really would defy a simple explanation no matter how well I tried. The story is gore laced, gooey (a word I use because of the biological emphasis put on the reformation of both the human and animal elements of this town), and eerie, to say the least. I don’t want to spoil things for the readers, but I will say that this story shared elements of some of King’s works laced with a healthy dose of Lovecraftian flavor thrown in for good measure.
The issue I had with Shades of Green was with the editing. Now I will state very clearly that I am not a person who gets upset at typos and even a few contextual errors that show up. I expect that to occur with a self-published work. My belief is that if I can understand what the author was trying to say for the most part, I am good with that. With that said, I feel strongly that Shades of Green could have done with another editing run, because some of the errors left me confused as to the intention of the author at certain points in the book. The errors made this a more challenging read for me. Now this isn’t to say that I didn’t figure things out in the end, or throughout the story, but it slowed things down a bit. I will cite one example of the confusion I faced with the story, and it comes from the very first chapter: Damien and his brother Paul appear to be swapped in the first chapter. If this was the author’s intention as part of a dream sequence, it still left me puzzled and believing that after I had read the next few chapters that it was an error on his part: it was Paul who was having the vision from his past, or a dream, and not Damien. Then again, perhaps that was the author’s intention: to confuse the issue, because that would go along with the rest of the trippy nature of the story. Even so, another editing run through this book would serve it tremendously.
Overall, I enjoyed the concept of this book and I think the author has some wild and disturbing ideas. The editing was where it stumbled for me, but given that this is Ian Woodhead’s first book, I think he has a promising future in writing ahead of him.
Shades of Green can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Shades-of-Green-ebook/dp/B004E10WCC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1296155046&sr=8-1
Review of AP Fuchs “Possession of the Dead”
Possession of the Dead is the second book in the Undead World Trilogy. Blood of the Dead, the first book, started out as a fairly traditional zombie apocalypse tale, with four main characters coping with the fact that they live in an Undead world. A gray rain came down and turned the living into zombies, with few being immune, and along with them, those who stayed inside avoiding whatever it was that caused this to happen. Animals too were affected, and for the majority of the first story, we see the main characters struggle to survive as the primary objective. Then, toward the end of that story, an intervention by an angel, a journey through time, and an alternate world (or so it seems) opens up to the characters and in it, there are giant sized zombies that are fifteen stories tall, demons, and of course, as mentioned before, angels. Possession of the Dead goes a long way toward explaining this rather stunning change of scenery at the very end of the first book. Without attempting to spoil anything, the reader discovers that some of the living are actually able to turn into zombies at will, this is a battle for the remaining souls of humanity, and our main characters, because of what they have witnessed, are primary targets of the underworld.
This book changes things up, but is still a zombie novel at heart. I was somewhat reminded of both Brian Keene’s The Rising/City of the Dead and Ben Roger’s Faith and Undead in the fact that the zombies here are used as a tool of the demons of the underworld and the devil himself in an effort to usurp God’s power, or better yet, to bring him to his knees. Still, this tale has some unique elements, including the transformational power of some of the zombies, as well as the giant zombies that roam the city streets and scoop up the living by the handful. We still get a lot of straight up zombie action as the undead chase the main characters from start to finish.
The action is nonstop and between this book and the last, I’ve grown attached to the characters, and like the new ones introduced in this book. The author once again leaves us hanging at the end of the book, but not as dramatically and shockingly as he did after the first. There are still plenty of questions to answer with the finale, and I will be very interested to find out what happens to characters like Joe, April, and the world as a whole when the end comes. Naturally, the biggest battle is yet to take place, and hopefully more of an explanation of our character’s part in all of it will be revealed.
The story keeps the tempo moving at a fast clip and the action is good. I am still a little bit confused by the giant zombies, since there was a minimal explanation as to their existence here, but they do make for an interesting part of the story as the characters are challenged to avoid them. I will be interested to see if there is more discussion of their particular nature in the third book, as well as the animal undead, which are not mentioned too often, but are clearly a part of this world. Even with these minor critiques of mine, I did enjoy this book and it certainly will keep me waiting anxiously for the third book. This is a fun and unique look at the zombie apocalypse, and I am sure AP Fuchs has a few more surprises up his sleeve for the end of his trilogy.
Possession of the Dead can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Possession-Dead-Zombie-Undead-Trilogy/dp/1926712536/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1295284411&sr=8-1
Review of Zombie Zak’s “Chaptered and Versed, Poetic and Cursed”
Zombie Zak is the crown prince of gore, goofiness, and grim verse. I’m not sure I can come up with a different way to describe what he does and who he is. I have seen his poems created on the spur of the moment on a forum or just somewhere on the web-he is a well known entity throughout the horror and zombie genre community as the poet of the apocalypse. Collected here are some of his more involved and intriguing poems.
Yes, much of his verse is zombie-centric, and I thoroughly enjoyed the various incarnations of One Lone Zombie, but there are other delights to be found between the pages here. I was blown away by Zak’s interpretation of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, done up with each of their own poems. Even with that said, Zak slips in humor and a presentation that gives you reason to smile now and then. I particularly enjoyed ‘Be Brightness’, which, if you read the back cover of this book, is a cornerstone of this cookie-loving zombie madman.
I am no poetry expert. I have read my share and can be touched and moved by it, most certainly, but it is not a staple of my existence. So take that as a measure of my ability to judge a book filled with horror poetry, but I did enjoy this too brief book immensely for its rapid pace, quick wit, and inspired verse. Zak has talent, could easily grow broodingly philosophical with his words, but he lightens it up with the occasional burst of lunacy and zombie chickens. Yes, I said zombie chickens.
I will leave this review with the zombie’s own words: Above all else, whatever you do, be true, be Brightness, be happy!
Chaptered and Versed, Poetic and Cursed can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Chaptered-Versed-Poetic-Zombie-Zak/dp/1453695672/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1294886051&sr=1-1
Review of Craig DiLouie’s “Tooth and Nail”
Tooth and Nail is blistering fast military-focused thrill ride into the apocalypse. I scanned some of the other reviews and a comment that comes up with some frequency is that the nemesis here are not technically zombies. From a purist perspective, that is certainly true. The Hong Kong Lyssa Virus does not kill its victims…the ones that go “Mad Dog”, as they are called, have symptoms similar to someone infected with rabies…along the lines what we saw with 28 Days Later and Rec, as far as movies are concerned. They are fast, they are lethal, and their desire is to spread the virus rather than devour the living, although they are not above tearing someone apart that gets in their way. The effect of this is that the author went to some pretty good lengths to detail out this virus and its effect, giving it a realistic edge where the science felt pretty solid.
That is not where the realism in this tale stops. The story focuses on Charlie Company, who are stationed in Manhattan, guarding one of the hospital where Lyssa patients are being attended to. As the story starts, the city is already on lock down. The U.S. troops have been recalled from all across the globe to deal with the growing threat in America and we are just getting a small taste of what these Mad Dogs are capable of. The Lyssa Virus itself is just like any other flu, or so it seems, but with a small percentage of those getting sick turning into rabid killers. But that number is increasing as it is discovered that this isn’t just an airborne virus and the Mad Dogs are growing as a part of the sick population at an exponential rate. At the same time we are seeing what Charlie Company is up against, we are also introduced to a research facility in Manhattan, where a Russian Doctor is discovering the truth about the virus and more specifically, the Mad Dogs, and trying desperately to come up with a vaccine or cure.
Craig DiLouie has created a very tightly knit story here with a great deal of depth of detail when it comes to military protocol and actions. Since I haven’t served in the military, I can’t attest to the specific accuracy of everything, but clearly, the author knows his stuff. There is no one single main character here, instead, the cast is more like an ensemble and the story reminded me, in parts, of the movie “Black Hawk Down”, where it seems at every turn things are getting worse and worse and the local population is turning more savage by the minute as the military tries to complete their mission. Despite the lack of a main character, the author did a great job of providing the reader with some fully fleshed out characters that were easy to grow attached to for me. Their interactions felt real and natural given the circumstances, not awkward or forced. If I had a complaint about this story, it was with the tense change that occurred at a few points of the story. I can understand the merits of going present tense with a book that moves at the hectic pace of this one, but there are some parts of the book that are in past tense and others in present, which is a shift that isn’t always easy to adapt to as a reader. Despite this minor quibble, the book is solidly written and the story well paced. I do hope to see a sequel to this book, but it certainly can stand on its own as a excellent entry into the infected/zombie apocalypse genre.
Tooth and Nail can be found at: http://www.amazon.com/Tooth-Nail-Craig-Dilouie/dp/1930486987/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1294151082&sr=8-1
Review of Todd Brown’s “Zomblog II”
Zomblog II slides the reader into the story started with Zomblog with ease, with a second character having taken up the challenge to provide a journal about the ongoing zombie apocalypse. Meredith, who actually became the narrator perhaps halfway through the first book, continues to tell of her experiences as she moves from place to place and meets new survivors along the way, while trying her best to keep those she cares about alive. I thought the way the author shifted perspectives was quite creative and surprising in the first book. I won’t ruin the surprise here by giving away what happens in the second book, as I tend to prefer not to give away the overall plot. So if you are expecting the same type of shakeup here, you will have to read the book for yourself to find out what happens to the main character and if they make it through to the end.
Zomblog II moves at the same breakneck pace as Zomblog did, but Todd Brown has upped the ante with even greater challenges and darker realities for the narrator of this tale to face as the initial days of the zombie apocalypse fade into the distance. The most compelling aspect of this book is the author’s willingness to show both the absolute best and worst aspects of humanity and keeping you glued to every page as the story unfolds. Make no mistake, this is a gritty, raw tale that expects the reader to accept how depraved mankind can get when things go bad. Certainly, there are those who retain elements of their humanity, but while living in barbaric, ugly times, the bad seems to shine through, and those that are willing to do anything are the ones who tend to survive. Not that there aren’t good people still around, but even those people are forced to do questionable, brutal things, including the main character. Perhaps the dark, dim nature of this tale might be too grim for some, and fair warning if you like coming out of a tale like this with a strong sense of hope. There is perhaps some, but nothing that will reaffirm your faith in mankind, that is for sure.
Despite the fact that this is a diary approach to writing and there really isn’t dialog because of that, we are able to get to know Meredith and some of the key characters that surround her quite well and what drives and motivates them through her words and the emotions that resonate off her journal pages. Meredith is a fleshed out, hard nosed character that keeps the story moving forward every step of the way. This book kept my interest from start to finish, and I look forward to checking out how the story continues with the next Zomblog journal entry.
Zomblog II can be found at http://www.amazon.com/Zomblog-II-T-W-Brown/dp/0984537252/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1294071777&sr=1-1
Review of “Barriers Beyond” by Tim Long
Barriers Beyond is a Kindle novella that I decided to check out once I got a kindle for Christmas because I’ve read plenty of Tim Long’s other works and have enjoyed them. Barrier’s Beyond tells the first person perspective of one survivor during the zombie apocalypse, a former military man who shares his experiences during the first few months of survival after the dead rise.
Tim adds a nice twist to the story by giving us a new form of undead-the ghoul. Zombies in this story are your traditional undead flesheaters, while ghouls are humans who get desperately hungry enough to eat zombie flesh to survive after things go south and food is scarce. The taint of that flesh turns those who eat it into something along the lines of a half undead, half human creature (or at least some of them, while others go the full zombie route). These ghouls retain some of their smarts, craft traps, and crave the flesh of humans and other ghouls. They lead the undead in their charge on those few humans who remain. It was a nice little addition to the zombie pantheon.
The story itself is a pretty straight forward apocalyptic thriller-Erik, the main character, reacts to the initial days of infection and prepares for the impending end of humanity by traveling up to the mountains to a friend’s log cabin to escape the assault of the undead. While he is safe there, he finds the loneliness enough to drive him back to civilization, or what remains of it, several months later. The story at that point goes into overdrive and the action gets amped up quite a bit until the end of the story. Again, this is a novella, so it is a quick read and the storyline not too complicated, but it is fun if you enjoy stories about the zombie apocalypse. The window is left open by the author for future novellas, or perhaps a tie in of this story with one of his other apocalyptic novels.
Barriers Beyond can be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Barriers-Beyond-ebook/dp/B0042G0QZ2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1293518750&sr=1-1
Review of “Elements of the Apocalypse” from Permuted Press
Elements of the Apocalypse, as the title suggests, gives the reader four stories using the classic elements to show us how the apocalypse will occur. I thought it was a creative take on apocalyptic stories from the standpoint of using this theme. Fire, Air, Earth, and Water are the means to our destruction, and a different author took a swipe at each particular element.
The first story, by DL Snell, gives us fire as the source of our destruction. Dylan Bradley is minding his own business on a bus ride home from school for spring break when the bus driver bursts into flames. Rather quickly, most of the people around him are doing the same, as spontaneous combustion takes hold as the means to our end. Dylan races home with several other characters as madness takes a hold of the few remaining survivors, in an effort to find his girlfriend.
The second story, by John Sunseri, deals with aliens invading our planet and placing huge atmospheric generators on earth, which make our air unbreathable for humans. Thirty years later, a team from New America, the last surviving lair of humans, has created a device that might help them fight back. Led by Bess, the toughest survivor left, they climb out of their underground hideout and make their way to one of the alien’s air processing stations with the device in tow. Since the atmosphere is polluted not only with unbreathable air, but with “demons” and “diggers”, both servants to the aliens who crave the oxygen inside human blood, making the trek is somewhat like traversing one of the nine planes of hell.
The third story, by R. Thomas Riley, has the animal kingdom in revolt against humanity when Gaia decides that we are poor caretakers of our planet and she needs to start over. Animals don’t just turn on us, they become smart and vicious servants of their earth mother. But Gaia has a plan, and that includes enslaving some of the humans to do more of her dirty work.
The final story, by Ryan C. Thomas, has water the entire world over disappearing in a rapid fashion, leading to a desperate scramble to find the cause and find the last remaining sources of drinkable water on the planet. Cam, an estranged husband and father, has to work with Scott, his scientist brother in law, in an attempt to discover the cause of this catastrophe, while at the same time trying to find water for his infant son as he lay dying from dehydration.
Each story has individual merits, and I give credit to each author for giving us compelling characters that made each story more than just simple doom anthems. I grew attached enough to the characters that I found myself rooting for them to find a miracle despite knowing how most of these types of stories end. I am not going to pick out a favorite here, because I really don’t think any of them missed the mark, and there were parts of each tale that resonated for me. If you enjoy reading stories about our destruction that lean toward the fantastic, than this book is a entertaining choice I highly recommend.
Elements of the Apocalypse can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Elements-Apocalypse-D-L-Snell/dp/1934861502/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1293203900&sr=8-1
Eric S. Brown has a new contest to win one of his books!
Hey folks, just thought I would share something cool with you. Eric S. Brown, the man behind tons of great zombie books out there is holding a contest in honor of his first release through Simon and Schuster. It’s a great chance to check out a killer book and win some other really killer books. Here are the details from the man himself:
Contest rules and prizes: From Eric S Brown
Sounds pretty simple, and a cool way to win some books!
Check out these cool Library of the Living Dead Calendars!
Hey all! I had to post about the cool calendars that are being sold over at Cafe Press that were put together by some pretty killer artists for The Library of the Living Dead. There are two different calendars and each contains zombified pictures of various authors whose work appears in either Library anthologies or novels. Yours truly is in one of the two calendars and I do have to say that both really kick some major butt!
Give them both a looksee if you get the chance, at this link: http://www.cafepress.com/DrPus?CMP=CJ-CLICK-10461796&tid=skim673X607971&sid=skim673X607971&cjpid=3641109&PID=7532081&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_campaign=none&utm_source=cj
And then pick up one or both for yourself and get a few for the zombie lover you know and want to pleasantly surprise for Christmas!
Mr. MoOn’s Nightmares Day, ALL DAY!
Ladies and Gents,
Tomorrow, my good friend, Mr. Jonathan MoOn, is running a promotion on his book, Mr. MoOn’s Nightmares. I reviewed his book here, https://patrickdorazio.com/2010/07/31/review-of-jonathan-moons-mr-moons-nightmares/.
Check out the Facebook page for Mr. MoOn’s Nightmares Day, All Day: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=170572399623444 and make sure you are attending this event!
And check out his blog to see what goodies he is giving away! http://bit.ly/dUQ9QW
Most importantly, make sure you swing by Amazon and pick up a copy of his book here: http://www.amazon.com/Mr-Moons-Nightmares-Jonathan-Moon/dp/1451577249/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1287516260&sr=1-1 and then write a review on it after you read it. I am sure he will be happy you did, and my guess is that you’ll be happy you checked out this terrific book as well!
Daily Bites of Flesh 2011 is up on Amazon!
Hey folks, just to let you know, Daily Bites of Flesh is now available on Amazon. It does look like it is out of stock right now, but my guess is that it just will need a day or two for them to have some inventory. It is a very hefty book, with over 500 pages of horror-rific flash fiction for you to check out. And it is the perfect time of year to get someone that calendar that will give them a spine tingling tale once every day. Nothing can beat that for the horror fan!
Hit the picture to head on over to Amazon to get your copy!
Patrick D'Orazio's Blog 