C.D. Breadner's Blog, page 2

TEASER: Indulge, Red Rebels MC, Book One

As Buck took off in a spray of gravel she felt her hands tighten up on his torso, more worried about falling off than what she was holding onto. The wind tossed her hair out behind her, her skirt came up her legs and she was glad she’d made sure to tuck it into place under her ass. The bike was loud, terrifying, and thrilling.

The edges of town flew by, and as it did she realized they hadn’t discussed where they were going. She certainly hadn’t given her address to this stranger, so now she was at his mercy as the sights turned into Markham. She had a sinking feeling, scared for a completely different reason now.

When the bike came to a rest in a familiar dirt-packed parking lot she sighed, unbuckling her chin strap. The Dog’s Breakfast stood, ramshackle and questionable in the daylight, in front of them. While she wrestled with the fastener she felt his fingers trail over her ankle, and at first she thought it was an accident. Plus her legs were numb from the ride, despite the warm day. But then his hand slid upward along her calf before tucking behind her knee. Gertie jumped, yanking the helmet off and trying to scurry off the bike as fast as she could. Not because he touched her and made her uncomfortable. Not at all; in fact, it had been very, very nice. And that’s why it made her nervous.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, swinging a leg over to dismount. “But your leg was distracting.”

She was stupefied by that. Never in her life had anyone ever said anything so bluntly. He said it so that it didn’t even sound like a line. She tucked her hair behind her ear and nervously looked anywhere else, wondering how he talked her into coming here with him when no one knew where she was going. Henri and her father were probably worried about her.

“Come on,” Buck encouraged, tucking his sunglasses into a pocket of his vest and heading to the door. Gertie weighed her options, not knowing if there was so much as a bus stop nearby, then turning back as Buck opened the door. He was holding it open, eyeing her up with a smirk on his face.

Gertie bit her lip, sighing inwardly. This was stupid. He was a stranger, a biker. And too good-looking. Not just the structure of his face, which was amazing. But the whole vibe, that macho cool bad ass that didn’t seem like an act for a second. He lived it, wore it, breathed it and gave it off like a beacon. She’d seen it cow Jim down to a meager wimp with a few words and a glare.

That had all been impressive. Not to mention sexy as hell. And the fit of his jeans was morally objectionable.

Gertie offered a small smile and followed, stepping into the dim barroom and waiting for her eyes to adjust after the brightness outside. She slowed her pace, worried she’d bump into something. A warm hand pressed against her lower back, leading her through the tables she could barely see and the strange flutter came back, the same one that hit her when he tickled her leg.

She loved a man leading her through a room by her back There was something old-fashioned about it that didn’t feel chauvinistic. Just respectful.

“Let me buy you a drink. It sounds like the day you’ve had entitles you to a couple.”

Gertie allowed a short laugh at that, legging her way up onto a barstool. He waited until she was settled, then waved the bartender down and held up two fingers. Whatever that meant. Then he took his place next to her.

“So, Gertie,” he began, angling her way in his chair. “When you go out with your friends, do you always get tanked and high and head to roadhouses?”

Gertie laughed again, louder so she covered her mouth. “Um,” she began, looking at her hands so she wasn’t looking at him. “No, not really. The uh, guy you scared off, his brother is one of the bartenders. So my friend thought it would be a safe place to … slum it.”

“Slum it?” he repeated, the amusement obvious in his voice. “That was really fucking stupid.”

Gertie’s head snapped around so she could gape at him, but then the bartender was setting two shot glasses down on the polished wood bar top and cutting into their conversation. “Here ‘ya are, Buck.”

Before Gertie could reach for her purse the tender moved off down the line of folks leaning on the brass rail and she looked after him, even more confused.

“You and your friends coming all the way out here to dance and get drunk? Shitfaced? Tripping on fucking acid? That’s stupid.” He pushed a shot glass closer to her, leaning in with his hand on the back of her stool. “And you’re old enough to know better.”

Gertie’s head jerked back at that. “I beg your pardon?”

“Drink your tequila. I got it for you.”

“You didn’t even pay. He just walked away.”

Buck chuckled like she’d done something adorable. “Babe, drink your tequila.”

“Don’t call me babe,” she snapped, ignoring the shot glass. “You can’t tell me I’m old then call me babe.”

He leaned even closer and she moved the opposite way to create space but it was a weak effort. He looked serious now. “I didn’t call you old,” he pointed out. “I said you’re old enough to be smarter than that. Now drink your fucking tequila.”

Gertie slumped against her elbow, leaning towards him now. “Stop using the world old, asshole.”

He gave a smirk at that, and even that was sexy. Dammit. “You’re not old, babe. Your ass put all those tarts to shame, your tits were on my mind all night, and I’m dying to yank on all this hair. You’re not old, no. But you should be more careful.”

Happy Gets His Girl – An SOA Fanfiction

Happy Gets His Girl – An SOA Fanfiction.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Close Encounter

The warehouse of the home centre was creeper-free. It had been locked up and the creepers had not come up with a way to get inside. The place was huge, big enough to park an airplane or two. It wasn’t full to bursting, but the supplies they found caused quite a bit of celebration. A caged lock up held a dozen Remington hunting rifles, and another lock box held a healthy supply of ammo. Plus a few composite hunting bows, arrows and hunting tips. Plus more camping supplies in the form of tents, sleeping bags, cook stoves and water purification tablets.

There was also a maintenance catwalk and metal stairway that led to the roof of the mall. That’s what Oakley really wanted to check out.

She and Sawyer made the trek up three storeys of metals rungs, broke the lock off the door and stepped out into the fresh air of a crisp, autumn day. The sun was shining, a slight breeze with a chilly bite to it lifted Oakley’s hair off the back of her neck, and the surrounding area was wide open for viewing in 360 degrees.

“Amazing,” Sawyer mumbled, walking to the edge to see the backside of the mall which they hadn’t checked out since first claiming the store. It was about two hundred yards of crumbling parking lot, and beyond that, a rushing stream. They could hear it from where they were.

“Holy shit,” Oakley breathed as she joined the other woman. Anyone who made it this far knew how lucky it was to find a safe source of water. Moving water was less likely to be dangerous. They had water purification tablets, and had intended to set up barrels on the roof to catch rain and show which would definitely be safe for drinking. But this was good to have as well; especially for cleaning. And bathing.

“I bet there’s fish in there, too,” Sawyer speculated, turning to Oakley with a smile. “And I know you noticed the deer droppings out front.”

“They likely come by here for the water,” Oakley surmised. “We might have stumbled onto a bit of paradise here. Completely by accident.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer agreed, turning back to the autumn vista that was turning orange and gold already. “I like this safe spot up here for fires and cooking,” she continued. “Don’t want to do that in an enclosed area. We’ll have shelter but I’m not sure how we get extra heat down in the store.”

Oakley shrugged. “Winters are short. We ransack a clothing store. Everyone bundles up, sleeps a lot. Bears hibernate in winter, don’t they?”

Sawyer grinned and turned back to the stairway, stopping short. Oakley spun, instinct causing her to reach for the handle of her machete. But she froze with her hand on the grip as she realized she was looking at their strange, overheard neighbour.

The three of them were frozen in an eyeball stand-off, so Oakley took the opportunity to really study him.

He was maybe older than she’d first thought; around twelve or so. At the age where young men start to stretch out without filling out. His limbs were long, and from the sleeves of the filthy T-shirt he wore she could see very thin arms, the elbows almost looking too big just because the rest of him was so thin. His hair was longish, so he didn’t let it just grow indefinitely. He even appeared to cut the front of it, likely to see better. The hair on his forehead hung in long, uneven clumps. He was dirty-looking, but his eyes were sharp on the two of them, moving back and forth like he was doing a math problem mentally.

Unarmed, she knew that as well. So she let go of the machete and straightened her posture, shooting a look to Sawyer.

Sawyer was already on it. She approached slowly, two steps, then stopped. “I’m Sawyer,” she said gently, hands on her own chest. One hand moved out towards Oakley. “This is Oakley. Do you have a name?”

Oakley’s eyes went back to the boy. He was looking at her, brow furrowed. He licked his lips, then softly spoke. “Sawyer?”

Sawyer’s smile was as wide as Oakley had ever seen it. “That’s right. Do you have a name?”

Lips were licked again, and his eyes came to Oakley. “Tate,” he said, uncertain.

“Your name is Tate? It’s nice to meet you.” Sawyer took another step. “We want to thank you for helping us the other day. You throw a screwdriver very well.”

Oakley nearly laughed at that, instead just smiling and nodding her agreement. “Thank you very much,” she added. “Tate, are you here alone?”

His head tilted the opposite way and he stepped back.

Oakley’s hand came up, palm out. “It’s okay, Tate. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just worried about you being alone. Are … are you hungry?”

His look was wary as Sawyer dug in the thigh pocket of her cargo pants. But all she came out with was a Kit Kat from the drugstore. “You like chocolate?” she asked. His eyes were on that bright red foil wrapper and he looked intrigued. Sawyer held it out. “You can have this, if you want. It’s very good. Maybe a little too sweet but … a nice treat.”

They all fell silent staring at each other again, then suddenly Tate was spinning and running, around the back of the stairwell enclosure.

Oakley almost went after him but Sawyer grabbed her arm with a soft, “Let him go. He has to come to us on his own. He hasn’t made it this far by trusting people. He’s been alone for a long time. And he’s got his own secret way up here. I don’t want him to think we’re hunting him.” She set the Kit Kat bar down on a cinderblock that was left by the door, probably used by staff to prop open the door while they were up here for a smoke break. There were butts all over the roof.

Oakley followed Sawyer back inside, shutting the door and starting back down the stairs. Never before did Oakley feel that “mothering” urge stir, but it was right now, all because of that little boy.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Collective Intelligence

On the other side of the rolling curtain, tightly pegged into the floor of the mall corridor, Oakley could hear the grunting and panting of a herd of creepers. Her hand instinctively tightened around the handle of her machete and her blood seemed to even its pace as her eyesight grew sharper. Adrenalin made everything very clear and calm for her.

Tap, Hunter, and Sawyer were ahead of her. Sawyer had a cordless reciprocating saw, and she was cutting off the pegs at the bottom of the curtain. Two were gone, one more and they’d have a good-size opening to work with. The bottom was bowing out from the crush of creepers on the other side, so Hunter and Tap were leaning on it to make it easier for Sawyer to work.

The saw released the last peg, and Sawyer scooted out of the way. Hunter took a hammer to the locking mechanism which eventually gave way under his violent assault. Tap yanked the curtain back as far as he could get it and Oakley went in with three more of Hunter’s guys.

The creeper count was much lower here. It looked like less than a dozen had been trapped in the drugstore, which was good news. Her first take-down was a man who had lost a arm somewhere since dying. She sliced his head in half on an angle, the top of his skull hitting the ground before the rest of him. Her second and third were a two-for on a long side-swing, and the fourth was where shit got weird.

Oakley had her arm raised and was ready to spin with her next swing when something caught her by the wrist.

She gasped, startled because whatever had hold of her felt damp and cold, and when she looked down a greyish, moist hand had hold of her.

She made a sound of horrified disgust, shaking her arm like she had a bug on her. Another hand fell on her shoulder, and she had the cold moment of realization.

This was it. This is where she died.

But it wasn’t the creeper holding her hand that came for her, or the one that had her by the shoulder. They didn’t tear her to bits. Oakley looked up as her machete was yanked out of her hand, and a third creeper dropped it as he advanced on her.

Like the three of them were working together.

She didn’t dwell on it. She tried to be strong, but as the third creeper drew closer her courage flagged and Oakley started shouting.

It brought help. Someone picked up her machete and swing, taking the third creeper out at the neck. The arm holding her wrist was suddenly severed from its body, and she shook free of it and ducked under the hand holding her by the shoulders just as Tink took its head off as well.

Oakley had her hunting knife free, spun with an underhand grip and shoved upward. The blade sunk in deep and Oakley had a moment to watch the light and life, what there was of it, fade from the creeper’s eyes. She would have sworn that creeper looked relieved. With a loud grunt she pulled the blade free, then continued her completely girly freak out which consisted of shaking her arms and shoulders and saying “Ewww” repeatedly.

“Oakley,” Hunter was shouting over her shudders and urge to gag. “Jesus, cut it out. Are you okay?”

She pulled a face and stuck her tongue out. “Blah. I’m sorry. That one had me by my arm. I’m sorry. She touched skin.”

Hunter was grinning now, hands to each side of her neck, holding her in place. “Yeah, you’re fine.”

She just shook her head in reply, the adrenalin still coursing while she tried to calm down. “That was close. That was way too close, Hunter.” When she said his name he kissed her forehead. “And did you see what they did? They were holding me in place.”

Now he frowned and dropped his hands. “What?”

Tink handed back her machete by the handle. “It’s true. One had her arm so she couldn’t swing the machete, the other grabbed her shoulders, and I think this third one was suppose to debilitate her somehow so it’d be easier to take her down completely.”

“Have you ever really watched one, as it … dies?” Oakley asked. “I know they’re already dead, but there’s something in their eyes. And I watched it go out.” She kept it to herself how the expression in that creeper’s face and eyes showed some kind of peace at that moment. “I’m worried that they’re getting smarter, Hunter.”

His mouth pressed into a line, then he gave her a big smile. “Hey. Let’s raid this store, see what’s here. Huh?”

Oakley sighed, then nodded. She knew he agreed with her, but if they were saving that topic for later she’d deal.

“Oakley! Look what they have!” They both turned to Jess’s excited exclamation, and she was holding a handful of small, bright tubes. “Look at all the lip gloss!”

She had to laugh at that, then gave Hunter’s arm a squeeze to let him know she was fine.

“They got batteries!” she heard Ty-shouting from across the store, another cause for chuckles.

“See how lucky you are?” Hunter mumbled, leaning in close to her ear. “I don’t need batteries.”

She giggled, pushing him away and approaching Jess and her handfuls of Lip Smackers. “Any strawberry flavour?”

Next order of business for their new “home?”

Take Our Poll

Poll closes Thursday, March 13th.

Writer Beware

Okay, it’s been almost a full 24 hours and those hours have been pretty … revealing for me. That’s a good word.

Now, I post a lot of my work on this blog. I’m writing a zombie story with your help, I give you little previews of whatever I’m working on, and it’s all a lot of fun for me. Writing promotes writing – giving people something free to read, and if they like the sound of my voice in their head maybe they’ll also go and buy what I have for sale. My books are affordable, this isn’t paying for my mortgage. So the free reading tool is a lot of my marketing strategy.

One thing I haven’t posted on here is work from my Fanfiction portfolio. I link from my to this blog and my Twitter and Facebook author accounts, but I’ve never sent traffic here to Fanfiction. It’s my dirty little secret, my writing Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction. It’s fun, fast, and it unlocks my writer’s block from time to time. Again, it was writing provided to a willing readership, and they seemed to like me, for the most part. And as a huge fan, I can let my imagination go where it wants. It’s not my world. Mostly they aren’t my characters or names or locations or plot points. I just tie my own stuff in.

This doesn’t mean I don’t work for it. I edit and reedit and research all of it. A few typing errors get through but hey, it’s free. And most of them I try to go back and fix. I’ve got an amazing, loyal following there, too. They are encouraging and thoughtful and motivate me to keep doing more.

Recently an entire story that I spent my spare time over the course of five months writing was suddenly very similar to a book being sold on Amazon. I made a stink, I admit it. I pulled a full-on thirteen year-old temper-tantrum and found the author’s Facebook Author’s page, posted that it was my story with revised names. I posted that fact on Amazon, Goodreads, then returned to my Fanfiction Family and told them about this.

I am now wary of sharing work on Fanfiction. I’m tempted to take all my stuff down. But I can’t, and do you know why? My Fanfiction Family lost their shit over this. They went everywhere the book was available from and shared the theft there. Kicked up a fuss and still took the time to write me messages of support. Well, one girl said I was hypocritical since Sons of Anarchy isn’t my work either. And she’d be right if I was trying to make money off of it. If that was the case Kurt Sutter would kick my ass – y’all know he would. So, big facepalm to her but she gets an opinion, too. She also said the other girl’s ending was better. I’ll agree to disagree – I’m just pleased the thief made some attempt at originality.

It’s Fanfiction, it’s meant to be fun. Shared for free by the fellow, tortured souls who fall in love with a world and just want to make a part of it for themselves. Some writers have a standing request with Fanfiction that their shit not be messed with. It’s right there in terms when you post your work. Sons of Anarchy and Kurt Sutter are not mentioned as being verboten. In this story, half the characters aren’t mine, but you know what is? My OC, her personality, life, thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears. And I loved her and put a lot into her. She’s sweet and tragic and has people that love her. So please don’t tell me it’s silly that this upset me. It’s sillier that people don’t want to give credit where its due. Or even worse: they don’t create their own work.

So thank you to all my insane, rabid, almost-scary fans who, in just under 20 hours no less, ran this girl to ground for me and created an overwhelming wave of support. I can’t tell you how humbling it is to have my silly, dirty little guilt pleasure inspire this kind of loyalty.

And I further caution other self-published writers: you know how much work it is to write original pieces. And it’s almost more work to market. I caution you to pencil in time each week to search the web for direct quotes of anything you’ve written. See where your stuff is turning up. Even if you were just nice enough to post it for free because you enjoy people reading it. It might be used in ways you don’t want, or to promote things you don’t agree with.

So did I lose faith? A little bit. At first. When my hands literally shook with anger for at least an hour. But then today happened and I remember what started all this: one Fanfiction reader, unassumingly letting me know on my Facebook author page that she just read the synopsis for a new title on Amazon and it was what she’d been reading on Fanfiction. So Fanfiction caused this emotion and Fanfiction made it better. Thank you, Tiffany Muir for pointing this out to me. And thank you to everyone from my usual readers who commented on the story EVERY DAY it was being revealed, and thank you to the Fanfiction heroes that got me sharing my stuff in the first place (LaughingWarrior, Happy’s Hitwoman). You know what? They invited me to also post over at blog, which I was always wanting to be on … so I have that going for me, too.

Thank you again, everyone. I’m not stoking a fire that’s been put out with this – I really just want to say this as a thank you to everyone who got all up in people’s faces on my behalf. You’re all nuts, and I love you in a platonic, online, appreciative kind of way.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Saying Goodbye

“That kid saved our lives,” Hunter mumbled, and Oakley wrapped her arm around his waist tighter.

The group was assembled in their make-shift campfire around a few glowing camp lanterns. Hunter was reclining against a bedroll propped up against a shelving unit. Oakley was snuggled next to him, tucked under his arm while his fingers trailed patterns along her upper arm.

Across from them sat Tap, cross-legged and staring at the lantern, expressionless. Oakley frowned, then asked softly, “Tap, are you okay?”

Hunter gave her a squeeze, and she looked up in time to see him shake his head as though telling her to just let it alone. But Tap spoke anyway.

“I’d known that kid for five years,” Tap said, voice husky with emotion. He must have been talking about the young man they’d lost today. To her surprise, that slight indication of emotion was enough to make her tear up, too. “Found him with his mother. She was selling him. Offered his … services for some food. I gave her everything I had and took him away from her. She didn’t even hesitate to give him up. I could have been anyone.”

Oakley inhaled deeply, hating how close that story was to how she met Tink and Jess. Hunter’s arm tightened on her again and she snuggled her face into his chest, closing her eyes against memories she’d rather leave buried. She heard sobbing, knew it was Tap, and did her best to keep her eyes shut and let him have that moment in as close to private as possible.

She was physically beat, but unsure why exactly. Yes, it’d taken hours to dispose of all the bodies and burn them outside the garden centre gates. But really, she’d rested well the night before. She should have been fine.

“You did great today honey,” Hunter’s voice rumbled close to her ear. She smiled, eyes still closed, and she hugged him tighter.

“So did you,” she said, then opened her eyes and rested her chin on his chest. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Hunter brought his hand up to play with her hair. “Yeah. It’s been a while since we’ve lost anyone. Well, since Boulder. Not as used to it as we used to be, I guess.”

She watched his face closely, seeing the sadness in his eyes. “He was a good guy?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah. Well, he didn’t stay with Hawk. So that should tell you a lot right there. He was a quiet guy. We called him Jack, some of the guys thought he looked like JFK.” Hunter chuckled suddenly. “If you knew who JFK was …”

Oakley smiled. “I think I remember that name,” she said sarcastically.

“That little boy saved us today,” Hunter repeated again and she tilted her head with concern for what was in his mind. “He had a hell of a throw, amazing aim. That’s a skill.”

Oakley nodded. “It was pretty uncanny.”

“We owe that kid. We should try and bring him into the fold.”

Oakley gasped. “That’s what I said I wanted to do. You said no, you were scared of him.”

Hunter scoffed. “I wasn’t scared.”

“What?” Oakley was incredulous, mouth hanging open, and that’s when he cracked a grin. “He helped us,” she said, softer. “That says a lot, too.”

Hunter nodded. “We should leave food out as a bait. Trap him.”

She shook her head. “No, we’re not trapping him. He’s not a rabbit.”

“We have to show him we mean him no harm.”

“By tricking him?” Oakley sat up next to him. “No, Hunter. He comes to us on his own terms. You said it; he saved us today. He’s not going to hurt us unless we hurt him.”

Hunter nodded, and just then Sawyer shocked the entire group by starting to sing. “Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train, I was feeling just as faded as my jeans,” she sang it very softly, but it sounded so melodic Oakley fell still.

“What song is that?” she asked.

Tap was staring at Sawyer, tears forgotten. “Me and Bobby McGee,” Tap said, almost breathless. “When I met the kid he didn’t know his name so I just called him Bobby.” Tap swallowed. “I love that song.”

“Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained,” Sawyer kept going, eyes on Tap now. “It rode us all the way to New Orleans.”

Suddenly under her cheek Hunter’s voice joined Sawyers. “I pulled my harpoon from my dirty red bandana. I was playing soft while Bobby sang the blues. Windshield wipers slapping time I was holding Bobby’s hand in mine. We sang every song that driver knew.”

Now everyone was singing except her, Jess and Tink, and Oakley wished she knew the words so she could sing this song in honour of Bobby. But she didn’t, so she listened to how the words rumbled out of Hunter’s chest and gave a small smile for lovely moments like this; the sad and relevant ones that made you appreciate that you were still alive. Her friends were singing, Tap was staring at Sawyer like she was an angel, and Hunter’s arm was warm and strong around her.

Now it’s time to keep unlocking the secrets of the mall.

Take Our Poll

Poll Closes Thursday, March 6th.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Hand Tools

Wordless and anxious Oakley handed Hunter his weapons, watching him strap knives and clubs to himself like some kind of soldier. Last he fixed a quiver to his back and took his bow from her, leaning over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

She closed her eyes when he did it, her stomach tight. They weren’t going to let her come along as they opened the doors to the mall. She was pissed, but outnumbered. So they built a seven-foot fence with shelving units inside the folding doors to keep the surge out of the store and away from those staying behind.

“We’ll be all right,” Hunter assured her, tone soft, and she had to smile.

She wrapped her arms around his back. “Just come back, okay?”

He kissed her softly with hands on each side of her face. “Nothing could keep me away, gorgeous.”

Then he turned, moving away from her and joining the line of men stepped between their barracade and the folding door, which was still locked. Oakley affixed one end of the shelving to the wall next to the opening with a solid length of chain, clipping it closed.

Sawyer, Ty-Ty, Oakley and Rainbow all climbed standing ladders next to the shelving. The idea was they could maybe take out a few creepers from the higher angle to help the guys out, they just had to watch out for that whole “friendly fire” thing.

Ty-Ty had a handgun. Oakley had a bow and arrow a lot like Hunter’s. Rainbow had a shotgun. They all straddled the “this is not a step” rung for comfort and stability. Hunter watched while they got settled, and he sent her a brilliant grin before reaching out to yank the folding door open.

He kept the opening narrow so a small stream of creepers could stumble in, easy for him and his crew to take care of. With a few dead bodies clogging the entry Tap opened the door further, and they continued the same way until the door was open and a waist-high barricade of unmoving zombie meat kept the throng at bay. While they turned their attentions to one half of the entry, the women were able to take a few pot shots on the opposite end.

Two arrows through two creepers’ head for Oakley and she was smiling. Ty-Ty took out a few herself and was giving loud “yipees” every time.

Down the mall corridor she could see a few stumbling creepers, but it didn’t seem like there were all that many. They were certainly concentrated at the home centre’s doors, likely from the sounds they’d been making.

Oakley was absorbed in her target practice, realizing she was rusty on archery but at least zombies were slow-moving and she hit more than she missed. When she was down to her last two arrows she heard the hollering.

The piles of undead were falling over, and they’d pinned one of Hunter’s guys in place. He was screaming as hands and mouths fell on him, tearing his skin from bone.

“Oh, Jesus.” Ty-Ty was muttering.

The screaming kept going, and Oakley had heard the sound before but it had been a long time since she’d been reminded of it.

“Ty-Ty,” Oakley was muttering, waving her arm to get her attention. “Take him out if you have a shot.”

Ty-Ty looked shocked. “What?”

“Listen to him. He’s in agony. Take him out.”

Ty-Ty’s eyes were huge, but after a short pause she nodded and took aim.

Oakley closed her eyes, saying a short prayer for the soul before it was departed, and the report of Ty-Ty’s handgun brought her around again. A round had gone right through his forehead, and he was soon engulfed in bodies.

Oakley tried to find Hunter, but the throng had thickened. She strained to figure out what had happened to turn the tables, but before she could put it together she realized creepers were falling in the crowd all on their own.

“Where are those coming from?” Rainbow was shouting, and that’s when Oakley found Hunter. His bow had been abandoned and he had a club in one hand, knife in the other, seeking out skull after skull to break open. Tap was doing the same, and the rest of Hunter’s crew seemed to be okay after all.

“Look!” Ty-Ty cut through the noise, pointing to a grate in the ceiling over the mass of stumbling corpses. An arm was darting out, objects were dropping, and they were all hitting creepers in the head. Handles were all that was left, various colours of molded plastic jutting from soft skulls.

“What the hell …” Oakley frowned. “Are those screwdrivers?”

She used her last two arrows, Ty-Ty used her rationed ammo, ditto for Rainbow, and then they could only watch while the men and whatever was flying out of the ceiling took out creeper after creeper until the only animated forms were Hunter and his remaining group.

Hunter looked for her, and she raised her hand to wave. Then Oakley watched as he pointed upward.

He’d seen the screwdrivers, too. He strode to a creeper next to him, yanking the handle out of a spot behind its ear. Yep, screwdriver. Hunter looked upwards, face growing serious. Then he brought his eyes back to Oakley’s and he actually grinned at her.

That child needs to become part of the crew, don’t you think?

Take Our Poll

Poll closes Thursday, February 27th.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Kumbaya

The rest of the group took the news of their little “watcher” much like Hunter had. They were all terrified that the store, if not the entire mall, could be booby trapped.

Like Oakley Ty-Ty, Rainbow, and Tink were incredibly worried about the kid. A little boy was still a little boy, no matter how long he’d been alone. No matter how crazy he might be.

The group stayed huddled in one spot the rest of the night, no one wandered off alone. By the next morning the men had decided that traps were unlikely. They had been through the entire store already and no one had even seen the slightest indication that anyone had been there for months before they got there. It was an agreed theory that the boy lived aloft, only coming down when he needed something.

Oakley was curious as to what he’d been eating. If there was an easy source of food close by that would be wonderfully handy. She couldn’t see a small boy killing, skinning and cleaning an entire deer or anything like that.

Unless … he wasn’t alone.

When she’d pointed that out it caused the group to fall silent, then look up to the roof all at once. A group like theirs living over their heads was a worry for sure.

Oakley and Sawyer were tasked with burning the bodies of the creepers out on the patio space. A quick search of the store turned up a partially-full box of lighter fluid bottles. They carried one out to the patio with them.

“Ugh,” Oakley muttered, pulling the neck of her shirt up over her mouth. The smell was overwhelming, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing towards the side of the building.

“I think they actually smell better when they’re completely dead,” Sawyer mused, pulling out a box of wooden matches.

“I guess I never noticed,” Oakley replied as a lit match was thrown on the pile. It caught the accelerant immediately and with a whoosh the pile was engulfed.

As Oakley suspected, they were sheltered out of the wind so the flames behaved themselves. They’d both still watch to make sure the breeze didn’t change directions. A long-expired fire extinguisher sat on the concrete at their feet at the ready.

“We gotta find that kid,” Sawyer said, which brought Oakley’s attention around abruptly.

Sawyer hadn’t been one to speak up out of concern while the group had discussed the boy. Sawyer had a cold practicality to her that Oakley strived to maintain herself; with Sawyer it was built into her personality, and if situations were different Oakley suspected Sawyer would be a terrifying person to run into on the street.

Her blue eyes were very pale and incredibly cold-looking. When she pulled out the dead stare it was enough to make a person shiver, and she was known to glare down more than one man who had intended her harm. And she was strong, incredibly strong. Oakley was no slouch herself – made it habit to be fit of body to climb, fight, and run. But Sawyer carried a lot of muscle on her body and arm-wrestled men for fun. Her worry for a child was out of character, but then again, Oakley really didn’t know her that well. They’d always had an uneasy truce which held them arms’ length apart.

This felt like an olive branch; Sawyer knew Oakley was worried and she shared that worry.

“I know,” Oakley said softly, allowing a small smile. “He’s made it this far but …”

“He’s not living,” Sawyer finished. “Just surviving.”

“Exactly.” Oakley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “For now I think we’re okay. We’ll let the boys clear the mall, prove to us how tough they are.”

“I’m helping them,” Sawyer interjected. “I don’t care what they have engraved in that macho bullshit rationale of theirs.”

Oakley’s smile grew. “I don’t think anyone’ll tell you to stay behind, Sawyer. They know you.”

Sawyer just snorted as they both stared at the rising flames, now starting to smell like so much cooking meat. “What … what do you know about Tap?” she asked casually. Forced to sound casual, actually.

Oakley raised an eyebrow. “Hunter knows him really well, trusts him. He’s funny. Kind of a smart ass but it’s part of his charm. I trust him, too. I’ve always felt safe around him.”

Another pause. Oakley fought down the urge to tease her.

“When Memee let us … associate with the men he’s one of the ones I spent time with.”

That was a stunner. Oakley knew Sawyer had partaken in that, she remembered that it was a surprise at the time. She hadn’t kept track of who did what, other than Hunter of course.

“I didn’t know,” she said lamely, filling the silence.

“He is funny,” Sawyer agreed, and that was another surprise. Oakley tried to remember Sawyer laughing ever. “He’s kind. And I used to hate that lumberjack tough-guy look but …” she shrugged one shoulder. “But how do you even do that anymore? Get attached? It’s such a waste if …”

“Living, not just surviving Sawyer.” Oakley cheekily returned Sawyer’s own logic. “It’s nice to have someone care about you. I don’t need him looking after me but I like that he cares. And I like that I care about him. It’s what separates us from,” she gestured to the pile, “them. It’s one thing that still feels normal.”

They fell quiet again as the fire crackled. “This could take all day,” Sawyer muttered. “I’m getting a couple of lawn chairs.”

Time for a new hero to emerge. Who shows their toughness on the next task?

Take Our Poll

Poll closes Thursday, February 20th.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – Home Deposed

“Oakley – four o’clock!”

She spun to her right, swinging the machete and catching a creeper clear through the neck. Jesus, that was way too close. She nodded her thanks to Tap, then surged forward again, pushing between Rainbow and Ty-Ty into the throng of undead.

“Oakley! Dammit, get back here!”

She ignored Hunter’s voice, cutting and slashing her way between reeking, rotting bodies while taking their heads and limbs with her. They were all soft-skulled, which meant they’d been trapped in the mall for a while, unable to get out. And really hungry because of it.

Teeth gnashed around her, hands tried to hold her but luckily the muscles of their bodies were nothing but sacks of mush. No resistance, easy to pull away from. The smell in here was atrocious, but first they had to take down all these creepers.

Then came body disposal.

Then came clean up.

Then came security measures.

And finally, living quarters.

They would have time to get through it all before winter, but it would take a lot of hustle. She wished for even five more fit and strong bodies to help, but no such luck.

By the time the last in the herd of creepers had been felled Oakley was feeling the entire day’s walk and the uncomfortable night spent on a concrete pad at the service station. Muscles were complaining, her back was tight, and her neck was killing her. But work wasn’t done yet.

There was a huge home supply store in the mall, and that’s where their crew had broken in; jimmying open a pair of automatic doors.

With dusty wheel barrows the men carted carcasses out to a fenced-in garden centre outside one set of doors. They dumped bodies and the severed parts in a pile to be burned the next day. Hopefully the smoke wouldn’t attract too much attention.

It was an ideal store to break into, actually. Trimming shears would make a great stabbing weapon when locked closed. There were even chainsaws left on the shelves.

And patio furniture. Lots of it.

The women attacked that section, assembling loungers and chairs and tables in the open area where a few barbecues were set up. Those were shoved out of the way to make room for the big common area they were putting together.

Oakley and Sawyer took flashlights and dug deeper into the store to see what else would come in handy for the night. A few battery-operated camp lanterns were pulled off the shelves, only the ones that said “battery included.” There were even a section of solar panels at the very back of the store, which was promising if the warehouse was also stocked. But they hadn’t tested the warehouse yet. They simply locked it down, chaining the outside handles together. No chances were being taken.

The store was closed off from the rest of the mall still, a connecting entry secured by a huge folding wall. That was also left alone for the time being. When Oakley had put her ear to it she could hear the moans and breathing of creepers on the other side, guessing that a ton of them were still trapped in the corridors.

As for the creepers in the home store, she had a pretty good guess how they’d become trapped. The outbreak happened, a handful of creepers got into the store and attacked anyone else that entered after them. Then when the electric grid went down the automatic doors were shut, locking them all inside.

There had been a lot of them, too. That must be why the store was still so well-stocked. A built-in security system. That also bode well for the rest of the mall.

“Oakley, check these out,” Sawyer mumbled, holding up packets from a cardboard box on the shelf. Oakley came closer and angled her light down. She had to grin.

“Damn. That’s fantastic.” At least a year’s supply of water purification tablets. She looked around the aisle they’d wandered into and her smile grew. Camping supplies, all the way up to the ceiling. For the first time ever she found herself thanking the stars that the outbreak happened in the spring.

“And did you see all the rain barrels out in the garden centre?” Sawyer was saying. “If we can get them on the roof and secure it, we’ve got a water source. Even in winter we let them fill with snow. They’re black. On warm days we’ll have water there, too.”

Oakley shook her head. She hadn’t liked the mall idea, but the home store was proving to be a brilliant spot, at least for winter. All they had to do was keep their profile low until the snow flew. People were less likely to come marauding for supplies in winter. They hunkered down to wait for spring. It was stupid to risk getting caught in a blizzard, or even getting hurt out in the cold. No, she could see this place making an excellent home.

They carried the lanterns back to the assembly just as Hunter and his men returned from garbage removal. They smelled terrible but at least they were in a mall. Maybe new clothes could be found tomorrow.

The patio loungers weren’t anything special compared to the beds the women had at Greenwater, but after a night sleeping on the floor they were pretty much heaven. Oakley made sure her machete was easily reachable under hers, and Tap volunteered for the first sentinel shift.

She settled on her side, nearly nodding off when a warm hand circled her upper arm. She jumped, coming fully awake and swinging up with her other arm. Hunter grabbed her fist with a chuckle, holding her hand and running his thumb over the back of her hand. “Easy,” he whispered. “You trying to break my nose?”

“Maybe,” she hissed back. “What are you thinking? You scared me.”

He brought his face closer, and when she caught the glint in his eye she swallowed. He was still cranked up from the fight. He wasn’t tired in the least. As she recognized his condition her heart fluttered a bit. “Come for a walk with me,” he breathed close to her ear, and that got another quiver.

She let him pull her to her feet, and as they passed Tap he was chuckling. “Have fun,” he muttered after them.

Oakley’s face was red, but Hunter’s hand in hers, pulling her along prevented her from worrying on that too much. Tap knew what they were doing; so what? They weren’t the first people in the world to get this urge.

Next to the lumber section was a mounted measuring board, the only place in the whole store with a flat, sturdy wall. A flashlight came on and was dropped to the ground, shining towards the wall. She knew he didn’t like to do this in the dark, he liked being able to see her.

Hunter spun Oakley towards him, mouth closing on hers roughly, hands at her lower back, walking her back until she hit the wall. Her arms came around his neck immediately, head tilting to let his tongue into her mouth. Big, square hands pawed at her butt aggressively, and her heart rate increased.

It was wonderfully having someone around when you were cranked up on adrenalin.

Her hands were on his fly as his lips trailed kisses down her neck. The pleasantness of that had her head lolling back to the wall, eyes falling closed. “You taste salty,” Hunter muttered.

Oakley smiled, eyes still closed. “You smell horrible.”

He chuckled at that too, and her eyes came open. When they did she gasped, hands flying to Hunter’s chest and shoving him away.

The shock of staring upward, seeing a face peering down on them from a top shelf that housed short lengths of trimwork made her heart halt. She kept staring upward, and when she heard Hunter mutter “What the hell?” she knew he saw it, too.

It was a child, maybe ten. But she was terrible at guessing the age of children. She hadn’t seen anyone younger than about fifteen since Jess was that age. Children just hadn’t survived to this point.

The olive-complexioned face with wide, dark eyes kept looking down at them, his face a blank, assessing countenance half in shadow. “What do we do?” she whispered, heart online and racing again from the shock.

“Hey,” Hunter called upward, soft and careful. “You okay? You hurt or anything, buddy?”

Oakley frowned. She’d never heard this tone from him before, and as she started to think it was kind of cute there was a weird hissing sound and when she looked up again the face was gone.

Hunter grabbed her arm. “Let’s get back to the others,” he said, serious now.

“What was that?” she whispered, reaching down for the flashlight. He didn’t let go of her arm as he did so.

“I think that kid’s feral,” he answered, pulling her along and checking over his shoulder. “If he’s alone I don’t care. But if there’s a lot of them that could be trouble.”

“But he’s just a boy,” she was arguing, and Hunter stopped to face her.

“Babe,” he said, gentle, so she knew he was pretty freaked out. “He’s a boy that made it this far on his own. He hissed at us, he didn’t talk.” He looked upward again. She absently admired the corded muscle of his neck when he did it, realizing now she was the one with the unscratched itch. He brought his eyes back down to her. “My guess is he lived in the rafters, or the duct work. That’s smart. Creepers don’t climb. Not yet, anyway.”

Oakley allowed a smile and looked upward, too. Just like her, when she slept in trees on her own. Out of creepers’ reach.

“Don’t tell anyone yet. I ain’t sleeping now,” Hunter continued, pulling her along again. “That kid freaked me out.”

Time for a bit of tragedy now. The crew has been too lucky so far. Who should “bite” it?

Take Our Poll

Poll closes Thursday, February 13th.

Let’s Write Something With Zombies – We’re Going To The Mall

When concrete was left to nature it only took a few years for nature to take back its space. The road they travelled on foot was crumbling, shoved away to make room for weeds and grasses and tree roots. This road would be impassable for people in vehicles, so for once Oakley broke from her paranoia and let Hunter lead their group this way.

Greenwater Gates had been a suburb. They were nearing another ring of similar “community” around the larger city, this one a bit older and more established than Greenwater had been. This place gave Oakley the creeps as soon as they saw it.

Half of the houses they passed were burnt to the ground. The half that weren’t were nearly done for, blackened and long since abandoned. Something terrible had happened here, and the fact that it was so silent now made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She couldn’t even hear any birds.

Jess drew nearer to Oakley’s right side, hands tightly clenching her baseball bat with both hands. Jess could barely remember anything about life before Greenwater, so being outside of her comfort zone on such a monumental scale was terrifying her. She even slept clutching that bat. “All the people who lived here are dead, aren’t they?” Jess asked softly, eyes big as she bit her lip and looked as though she hoped Oakley would lie to her.

Oakley shrugged and tried to smile reassuringly. “I don’t know, honey,” was her lame answer.

After three more blocks of rubble and ash they came upon a large clearing of more concrete where decorative shrubs and plants had laid waste to man-made curbs and borders. Within three years it would almost be a field. But at the centre of all this space was a huge, brick building with large glass windows, still mostly intact. Oakley stopped, and Hunter took her left hand to pull her forward.

“No,” she was muttering, unable to fight him but making it difficult for him to pull her along. “Hunter, no. Not a mall.”

“Come on,” he teased. “You can do a little shopping.”

“Hunter!” she snapped, and on that he let her halt their progression, turning to her with hands on hips.

“Oakley!” he snapped back, but he was smiling like she was amusing.

“Not a mall. It’s too big. Too many places to hide. Too hard to defend. There aren’t enough of us.” She took a breath. “And it’s out in the open like this. In a bigger town. I don’t like larger cities, too many survivors.”

Hunter moved in close enough so his shirt brushed against hers. “Oakley, we need strong walls and shelter. As you know, in a month it’ll be to cold to properly fortify anything else we might find. We start here, now, we might be ready before it snows. And did you see what I saw when he first stepped onto this parking lot?”

She crossed her arms. “What?”

“Droppings. Deer pass by here, Oakley. Which means food. Which means there’s likely fresh water somewhere close, too.” He lowered his head, talking softer. “It isn’t ideal. We both know this. But the inner walls will be strong, so will the roof. And we’ll see anyone coming for miles. I’ll put Tag on booby trap detail and we’ll be set for winter at the very least. We can’t keep walking hoping to find another Greenwater, protected and fenced and empty, waiting for us.”

He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was.

“Let’s at least walk through. Clean house a bit if the creepers are inside. And there might be useful shit in there still. Winter jackets, boots. You never know.”

Oakley looked around at the faces now listening to them, surrounding them in a semi-circle. Oakley knew she could survive winter living rough. So could Hunter, his men, and likely Sawyer. But her girls could not, and she had to think of them now too.

And it dawned on her then that’s who Hunter was keeping in mind as well.

She had to smile. “You’re right,” she admitted. He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Let’s check it out. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

What will our survivors find at the mall?

Take Our Poll

POLL CLOSED THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6th