Jonathon Fletcher's Blog: Captain's Blog - Posts Tagged "zombies"

Today the Captain's Blog welcomes Jenny Thomson, author of "Dead Bastards" and "Hell to Pay".



Jon: Tell us a little about yourself...

Jenny: I've been a freelance writer since I got my first piece published at 15, although I've had spells as a TV extra - I narrowly missed out on being an extra in World War Z when it was filming in Glasgow. I've been a big zombie fan since I watched the original Night of the Living Dead. Dead Bastards was published in December of last year and I've been overwhelmed with the response I've got. Zombie fans are fantastic. My crime thriller Hell To Pay was just published by Sassy Books and it's my first Die Hard for girls book. Like Dead Bastards, the book has a strong female character. I love The Walking Dead, but hate the way they've ruined most of the women characters by making it more about who they sleep with than fighting walkers.

Jon: Can you tell us what "Dead Bastards" is about?

Jenny: Glasgow couple Emma and Scott are in bed when there's a knock at the door. It's Scott's pal Archie and he looks like he's been mugged, but when he dies and comes back to life, they realise that the zombies are here. Teaming up with zombie expert Kenny, would be suicide bomber Doyle and Mustafa who works in the local shop, they have one goal. Just don't get bitten.



Jon: So what is it about zombies? I've been hooked on zombie films since my sister made me watch "Return of the Living Dead" when I was twelve and couldn't sleep for a month. What did it for you?

Jenny: I've been hooked on zombies since I first watched Night of the Living Dead. The way the movie's shot almost has a documentary feel about it and it's done in such a matter of fact way, you think, "Hey, this could happen."

Jon: So what makes your zombie story different from all the others?

Jenny: Dead Bastards is set in Glasgow and because it's not set in America there aren't many guns around, so people have to improvise when it comes to killing zombies. That makes it much tougher to survive. I have a strong female lead character, Emma, who can wield a baseball bat as good as any man. There's also a lot of dark humour and that's a very Scottish thing. Scots can stare into the bowels of hell and still find something to laugh about. I've also come up with a unique way that the zombie virus is transmitted that nobody, to my knowledge, has ever used before.

Jon: What's the most gruesome way that a zombie is dispatched in your book?

Jenny: At the start of the book, Scott hacks a zombie snowman to death with his axe. The body parts fly all over the shop because he can't see the man under the snow and has to keep on hitting him again and again to make sure he's finished him off. One of my characters, Mustafa, has to kill his own dad, who's a zombie, with a Samurai sword. In the movies, you see men doing it in one swoop, but Mustafa takes a few goes. It's always more gruesome when you have to kill a relative, but there's an element of absurdity about it too, because you think, "hey, is he ever going to hack this head off - it's so much easier in the movies." Throughout the book, I've tried to make things realistic. These people aren't killing machines, they've had no training. It's hard for them to kill anyone even when it's a case of kill or be killed. Eventually, though, they get to the stage where it's just routine and they've adapted to this new reality.

Jon: Is there anything different about your zombies, or are they the standard, shambling, moaning brain eaters?

Jenny: I've gone for the classic shambling zombies, although they can fairly shift when there's food walking by. To me it was important not to mess with the zombie genre because it's fine as it is. Because their brains are decaying or have completely decayed and have turned to mush, zombies shouldn't really be sprinting like Usain Bolt as the brain controls movement.

Jon: If you were caught up in a zombie apocalypse, what would be your weapon of choice?

Jenny: A gun if I could get one, but if not a chainsaw would be pretty cool. Watch all those zombie body parts fly off and blood everywhere. You'd definitely know that thing was dead. A katana like Michonne in The Walking Dead would also be cool - one swoop and the walker's headless or you could aim for the torso and split it in two. A scythe like the one they use to cut long grass would also be fantastic. Those things are sharp. Hey, I've thought of those things, a bit too much folk would say.

Jon: Are there any more books in the "Dead Bastards" series?

Jenny: For now Dead Bastards is a one off, but I might write another very different zombie book. If I can find the time. I'm writing the Die Hard for Girls revenge series of books. The first "Hell To Pay" is just out on paperback and it will be out on Kindle July 26th. The second is out next year. The next zombie book, that's just an idea at the moment, would be about a detective who goes from walled city to walled city investigating murders carried out by inhabitants. People live in these protected places because they haven't yet eradicated all the zombies and travel between them would be highly dangerous. The most common murder method used would be to throw someone out of these walled city so it's a case of death by zombie.



Jon: Do you have anything else that you want to tell your readers?

Jenny: Dead Bastards is a book with real people. They're not law enforcement or soldiers, so they react in a very realistic way to what's happening. The zombies in Dead Bastards are traditional Romero zombies and not the ones in the World War Z movie that zombie aficionados have been complaining about. I came up with the title for the book because in Scotland if the dead started to rise that’s what we’d probably call them. Well, you wouldn’t immediately think zombies if it was actually happening to you:) The castle in the book is real, although I've changed the name.

For writing tips, check out my blog at
http://ramblingsofafrustratedcrimewri...

I also have a dedicated zombie site at
http://deidbastards.blogspot.co.uk

and one for my Die Hard for Girls book at
http://diehardforgirls.weebly.com

The first book, Hell To Pay is out now in paperback and the follow up, Throwaways, is out next year.

If I'd to offer writers any advice it would be to write as many different things as possible, because you will face countless disappointments along the way. Hell to Pay, a revenge thriller, will be published by Sassy Books, on July 26th 2013 It's the first book in a series dubbed Die Hard for Girls. Read an excerpt here on my Amazon author page:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jenny-Thomson...

http://ramblingsofafrustratedcrimewri...

http://jennifer-thomson.blogspot.co.uk/

Jon: Thank you very much to Jenny for sharing her life and afterlife with the Captain's Blog... Keep that chainsaw handy folks, the apocalypse is coming for you!

This is the Prologue and first chapter of my soon to be released fourth part in the Josiah Trenchard series. It pits the crew of the Might of Fortitude against savage space zombies and is due for release soon. I hope you enjoy this excerpt...



Prologue "Industrial Espionage"

The small holographic television screen in the corner of the laboratory, flashed up a breaking news report, making several of the white clad scientists look up from their work with mild interest. The Intergalactic News Network’s anchorman, Alexander Robertson, was talking excitedly over dramatic pictures of a smoking mountain.
‘…huge explosion has collapsed the top of the Olympus Mons volcano on Mars, where the reclusive scientist Farouk El-Baz’s high security laboratory was situated. El-Baz was renowned for some of the most advanced technological breakthroughs in recent history including the vaccine for the Rhinovirus, advances in cybernetic limb replacement and the design of the engines for the eagerly awaited “Kalpesh Vayu” star cruiser.’
Robertson looked into a different camera and cocked his head to one side.
‘Boy, would I like to get my hands on one of those puppies!’ he crowed.
‘Turn that rubbish off!’ snapped another scientist who chose that moment to walk into the room. He was clearly the boss. His voice was muffled by a thick rubber mask, which was stretched across his face. ‘Mr Nakamura is not paying us to watch television!’
As one, the Japanese scientists all turned for a moment and bowed respectfully to the three-dimensional holograph of the head of the corporation that was mounted on one wall. A small label at the bottom of the picture read “Proteus Pharmaceuticals Chairman - Akihito Nakamura”. On the wall above the picture was the logo of Proteus Pharmaceuticals, a three pronged trident painted in the style of Japanese lettering that was set on a yellow diamond surrounded by a red circle. The figure in the picture was an impeccably smart, ageing Japanese gentleman. He wore a dull grey tailored suit and an expression of restrained pride and calm superiority.
At that moment, an alarm began to blare loudly in the distance. All the scientists looked up with unease. Yellow warning lights began to flash on the ceiling of the laboratory and the floor shook violently as a distant explosion resonated through the rigid metal structure beneath them. The scientists stared at each other in shock and panic. One of them pulled his mask down and cried, ‘What do we do Sir?’
‘Save the samples!’ shouted the head scientist, scrabbling for a rack of glass vials filled with bright blue liquid that were standing on the desk top in front of him, ‘…and put your mask back on! Do you want to be infected?’
As the scientists tried desperately to stow the fragile samples into a cold storage safe, the door to the laboratory was suddenly wrenched off its pneumatic seals by another massive explosion. There was a brilliant flash of green light and debris flew in several directions as most of the scientists were thrown off their feet. A slender figure, clothed in black from head to toe and wearing a black facemask, burst through the door and levelled a small automatic pistol at the lead scientist. The man’s face drained of colour and he instinctively brought his arm up to cover his terrified face. With a click, the black figure strafed the room from left to right, cutting the unfortunate survivors of the explosion into two. Blood splashed onto the clean ceramic surfaces of the lab leaving patterns that resembled cherry blossom against a late spring snow.
When the firing stopped, the assassin thrust the smoking pistol into a large holster attached to its belt and made straight for the cold storage safe. It stepped carefully over the twitching corpses, white lab coats stained with crimson blood. Quickly, the black figure grabbed several vials and stored them carefully away in a pouch that was attached to their belt and then turned towards the door, ready to make good their escape.
The figure froze. Standing blocking the doorway were a dozen guards, armoured, helmeted, and carrying traditional Japanese Katana swords. This may have seemed strange for anyone who didn’t work for Nakamura. Not only was the boss a traditionalist, but also there was always something explosive in the laboratory that could be triggered by a stray bullet. Swords simply were more practical. The black figure dropped gloved hands to its sides and circled its head around tense shoulders, clicking the neck vertebrae into place one by one. After a short pause, the assassin politely nodded their masked face briefly before reaching up and around to a sheath tied to their back, pulling out a short Wakizashi sword. The figure lunged at the nearest guard, who parried and dove to the side. A second guard whirled his Katana through the air, to be met with a clang of sparks by the assassin’s flashing blade.
Wherever the assassin moved there was a ready blade waiting to meet its own. The combatants whirled and dodged in a sick parody of ballet, but the outcome was inevitable. The assassin was hopelessly outnumbered. With a sideways slice, the lead guard caught the assassin across the stomach, opening the flesh like a fishmonger filleting tuna. The black figure bent double in pain and then collapsed backwards onto the floor. One-by-one, the guards swiftly thrust their swords downwards, piercing every vital organ of the intruder. As the assassin haemorrhaged internally and coughed blood through the fibres of their black mask, the lead guard knelt and peered down into piercing green eyes that were narrowed and angry. Reaching forward, the guard grabbed the lightweight mask and ripped it off, to reveal the face of a young man with flowing locks of golden hair that cascaded to the floor only to soak up his own ebbing life-blood.
The guard grimaced and snarled at the dying man. ‘Mr Nakamura was very clear,’ he said with a hiss. ‘He will not sell Ōnamuji, nor will he allow it to be stolen!’
‘You fucking yellow son of a bitch!’ gurgled the man with the long golden hair and green eyes.
The guard smiled. ‘Racism will get you nowhere. You have failed!’
The dying man smiled as he coughed up the blood that was filling his lungs. He held up his right hand. One of the glass vials was gripped between his gloved fingers. The blue liquid within seemed to glow and shimmer.
The guard’s face fell. ‘You would not dare!’ he hissed through trembling lips.
‘Wouldn’t I,’ snarled the assassin. ‘I hold the power of life and death in my hands. That power elevates me above the gods!’
The guards all took a step backwards. ‘You’re insane!’ shouted the head guard who was beginning to panic.
‘Kutabare!’ growled the assassin, swearing in perfect Japanese.
The assassin closed his fingers abruptly, breaking the delicate glass vial and releasing the experimental Ōnamuji drug within. Instantly the liquid in the vial boiled away into the air and dispersed as a gas. The head guard jumped back, but it was too late. Infinitesimal particles of the gaseous drug spun through the air like dandelion seeds on a breeze and entered his lungs. He convulsed violently and screamed. Deep inside his brain a chemical reaction took place, accelerating faster than his body could cope. Suddenly, he blinked and his eyes became a deep glowing blue, the colour of shining sapphire. His skin softened and became translucent, revealing pumping blue veins beneath. Then his whole body took on a glow, almost as though his life force was shining through. Abruptly his face cleared and took on an expression of inhuman rage and aggression. He straightened up and turned suddenly towards his comrades, who were already backing, terrified, towards the door.
The guard snarled like an animal and leapt. In a second, he was upon them, biting, tearing and gnawing; a one man weapon of mass destruction. As the gas spread through the air, the remaining guards fell. As each inhaled, one by one they convulsed and rose a second later with eyes of flashing blue and waxen skin. As the alarm claxon sounded, the rampaging guards tore out into the corridor, smashing the bio-lock door to pieces and began to spread like a virus into the rest of the crippled ship.



Chapter 1 "S.O.S."

Extract from the Central Computer Network:

ccn.unitedworlds.co.ert/history/josia...

CAPTAIN JOSIAH TRENCHARD - THE FIXER:

Captain Trenchard and the crew of the Might of Fortitude had battled a vicious robotic weapon built by the Papaver Corporation (see Morgenstern), and then cut off the supply of deadly gas to the Insurgent terrorists. Trenchard had subsequently been promised by Admiral Fife that he would be sent back out into the Asteroid Belt to hunt down pirates once more. Unfortunately his eagerness to aid Captain Fisher, Jarvis and Kidd in tracking down pirate Captains Smiler, Raven and Harlequin, would have to wait. Trenchard’s reputation for going feet first into dangerous situations and kicking the enemy up the arse had spread beyond the military. He was becoming something of a minor celebrity, although his methods constantly gave his superiors cause to worry. Trenchard himself had become deeply concerned that one of his crew, A.S. Cox, had been imprisoned in a psychiatric institution and that another, Lieutenant Ellen Stofan, had been killed after being discovered as a double agent. The Might of Fortitude barely had time to re-supply after returning from Pazuzu, before a pressing emergency in the proximity of Saturn’s rings, drew Trenchard into a deadly struggle that would test his mettle to destruction, and beyond…

Trenchard was once again waiting pensively outside the conference room of the naval academy on the surface of the dwarf planet Cairn, where the United Worlds Space Navy’s main base was situated. It had been only a few days since their return from Pazuzu in the Sirius system, but Trenchard was eager to get back out into space again. The incident with Cox had deeply unsettled the crew and they needed a diversion.
The door to the conference room slid open and an elderly Japanese man in a grey suit exited the room at speed. He gave Trenchard a brief, but polite, bow from the waist as he passed. Then he rushed off down the corridor to be met by a worried looking middle aged Japanese man in a similar grey suit, and about a dozen armed guards. The guards were wearing a uniform that Trenchard didn’t recognise. He surmised that they must be some kind of private security. They were all wearing traditional Hachimaki headbands tied around their foreheads. Each was emblazoned with a trident symbol that Trenchard couldn’t quite make out.
Trenchard was pulled out from his introspection as his boss, Admiral Fife, appeared at the door looking stressed and beckoned him into the room. The conference room was long and had chairs arranged around an oval table and a huge holographic projector mounted on the far wall. A vast United Worlds flag bearing a yellow sun and several orbiting red planets hung from another wall, and opposite from that, the navy’s slogan “Honour, strength and unity!” was carved into the stone wall and picked out in gold leaf. Trenchard’s eyes hovered over the slogan. It had always meant a great deal to him. He was undoubtedly a man of honour. That didn’t always mean being polite or gentle, like a dashing knight of old. To Trenchard, honour was a crowbar that was used to beat off temptation and enabled you to stick to your own personal values. It was doing what was right, no matter what the consequences. Honour had been telling Captain Bird where to stick it when he had tempted Trenchard with mutiny. Strength he had plenty of, both physical and emotional. Unity, well that was another thing. He could do little about the state of the entire United Worlds which was being torn apart by a war against Insurgent terrorists. Neither could he watch over the entire Space Navy, where cracks were beginning to appear even now. All he could hope to do was keep his own crew working together effectively, something that he seemed to have done with reasonable success so far. The revelation that Lieutenant Stofan, one of his trusted troopers, had been a saboteur and traitorous double agent still stuck in his craw. It festered like a wound at the very heart of the crew’s morale.
Trenchard sat heavily on a chair and waited for Fife to start. Fife looked pensive as he settled into a chair, as if he didn’t want to say what was on his mind.
‘Are you well Captain?’ asked Fife in his remarkably dour Scottish accent. ‘That thing with Ellen Stofan can’t have been easy.’
He was straight to the point as usual; there was no drama with Fife.
‘I’m as good as I can be,’ replied Trenchard. ‘Being that we had a traitor on board and Cox was hauled of to the mental asylum at Bedlam, I’m just dandy!’
‘Good,’ said Fife ignoring the obvious dig. Fife had been the one that allowed Cox to be taken to the high security prison, something that Trenchard hadn’t forgiven him for. Then taking a deep breath, Fife began, ‘I’m afraid that you won’t be back out in the asteroid belt just yet Captain. Subduing the pirates will have to wait for a while longer. A situation has arisen which requires urgent attention.’
‘What’s the mission? I assume it’s somebody else’s fuck up that I’m sorting out, as usual?’ asked Trenchard, as direct as Fife.
Fife grinned a mirthless grin and snorted. ‘This morning there was a general S.O.S. sent out from the science vessel SS Seishi. She’s owned by Proteus Pharmaceuticals. Technically she’s a long line gas miner, but she was recently purchased by Proteus and converted into a floating laboratory. She’s in a tight orbit between the surface of Saturn and its rings.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nobody knows for sure. The scientists aboard were researching a number of top-secret drugs for Proteus, it’s possibly a biological outbreak of some kind, but it could be pirates, Insurgents, anything.’
Trenchard could smell a rat. He had developed a keen nose for bullshit, and it was screaming at him now, insisting that he was right in the middle of a field of diarrheic bulls that had just been given Vindaloo curry for lunch.
‘Why is the navy getting involved, surely Proteus has its own security vessels?’
‘Indeed they do, but we’ve received a personal plea for help from Akihito Nakamura, the head of Proteus. Do you have your zero gee sickness pills with you?’
Confused, Trenchard nodded and pulled the small bottle from his pocket. He always carried them. He hated zero gravity and the pills were the only thing that stopped him from constantly vomiting.
‘See the label?’ said Fife.
Trenchard studied the label. Printed on the side was the same trident logo that the guards in the corridor had worn on their headbands.
‘His company supplies a great deal of the medical equipment and drugs for the entire navy,’ explained Fife. ‘He could withhold supplies if he wanted to. It’s a very difficult political situation.’
‘But why is he asking for military help specifically, does he know something that we don’t?’
Fife took a deep breath.
‘One of his sons is on board that ship,’ said Fife. Then there was a long pause as he let this sink in to Trenchard’s mind. ‘Makoto Nakamura was touring the ship, inspecting her after the recent refit. Nakamura’s already lost a daughter, and that devastated him. He’s terrified that he’ll loose one of his sons. The request for help came directly to the office of Admiral Adisa and was passed down to me. I’ve just met Nakamura personally. He was very insistent that the Might of Fortitude carries out the mission. Apparently, word of your recent exploits is starting to spread. He’s convinced that you’re the best man for the job, the best chance of saving his son. It seems that you’ve made quite an impression on him… Fixer!’
Trenchard fumed. He hated the glib nickname that the I.N.N. anchorman Alexander Robertson had given him. He chose to ignore the comment and ploughed straight on.
‘Was that him that just left?’ asked Trenchard.
Fife nodded. ‘He came straight here from his meeting with Adisa at Star-spires with his other son Hitoshi. He’s very worried. He’s an old man now and he’s expecting to hand his company over to his two sons.’
‘I’ll try my best not to disappoint him.’
Fife slumped in his chair. ‘Thank you Jo,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I know this isn’t what you wanted, especially after losing Stofan and Cox the way you did, but it’s important for the navy.’
Trenchard’s face became stony. ‘I didn’t lose them, they were taken from me,’ he said simply.
Fife looked nervous for a moment and then reached forwards to a control on the desktop. As he operated the control, the door to the room locked with a resounding click. Fife glowered at Trenchard for a long moment before finally speaking.
‘I know you’re pissed at me for what happened to Cox, but it was beyond my control. I’m on your side Jo believe me! I looked into that prototype Kalpesh Vayu star-ship for you,’ said Fife in a quiet voice.
Trenchard’s ears perked up. The Japanese assassin whom he had been tracking for a while now used that ship. She was linked to the Papaver Corporation, the Morgenstern and the gas attack in Paris. She most probably was responsible for killing Stofan and she definitely gave Trenchard the scar on his neck, a permanent reminder of her sinister dealings. She was behind a trail of death and destruction that spread across the entire United Worlds. He was desperate to find her.
‘The Vayu model has had a number of contributors including Farouk El-Baz, Kalpesh and… the Papaver Corporation.’
Trenchard tensed, this was exactly the sort of lead that he was after.
‘Papaver designed and built the computer systems for the Vayu. It’s the most advanced ship of its kind anywhere in the United Worlds,’ continued Fife. ‘It hasn’t gone into production yet because of a fault with the hatch seal. Kalpesh built only one working prototype. He gave it to Papaver as a personal gift.’
Trenchard chewed over the information for a moment.
‘So Papaver must have given the ship to her!’ he said.
‘Possibly,’ replied Fife. ‘She could have stolen it. Who knows? I tried to get an answer from Papaver directly, but he’s not replying to any of my messages.’
Trenchard sighed. ‘So it’s another dead end,’ he growled.
‘Unfortunately yes,’ said Fife. ‘I’m afraid the only way that you’ll ever catch her is to physically entrap her. She has the best ship in the United Worlds that has obviously been retro-fitted with stealth capabilities. She doesn’t appear on the Facial Recognition Database, or any other database for that matter, and she seems to be expert at concealing her activities.’
Trenchard grunted. ‘Thanks for checking anyway. I appreciate it,’ he said.
Fife nodded. ‘Whatever I can do to help. I’d quite like a word with her myself; find out what she’s been up to and why.’
‘Why don’t you ask Admiral Turner directly?’ said Trenchard, rather bluntly. ‘You and I both know that Turner’s had meetings with her!’
Trenchard had seen the assassin enter a meeting with Admiral Turner with his own eyes. The direct question took Fife off guard. He blinked and inhaled deeply before replying.
‘I cannot ask another Admiral of the fleet if she is involved with a freelance assassin without proof. High command would have me demoted for the accusation at best!’
Trenchard came to the end of his patience and made as if to stand. ‘Right. Well if that’s everything, I’d appreciate you unlocking the damned door?’
Fife raised his finger angrily. ‘I haven’t finished yet Captain!’ he snapped. ‘Sit down!’
Trenchard grumpily sat back down again.
‘There’s one more thing,’ Fife said with narrowed eyes, ‘…and I’m afraid you won’t like it.’
‘So what else is new,’ said Trenchard.
‘Nakamura’s insisted that you take one of his people on board, a specialist.’
‘A civilian?’ said Trenchard alarmed.
‘She’s one of Nakamura’s top scientists. She was directly involved in developing a lot of the drugs that they were testing aboard the Seishi. If anyone knows anything about what you could come up against on that ship, it will be her.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Eiko Yasui. She’s waiting for you in the combat training zone.’


Ellen’s Story: Six Months Previously…

Lieutenant Ellen Stofan walked briskly along a corridor inside the U.W.S.N. headquarters of Star-spires, heading for a meeting. She was nervous as hell and could feel the sweat dribbling down her shaven scalp underneath her helmet. She had been a perimeter guard here at Star-spires for nearly two years now and in all that time had never been summoned to a meeting with anyone higher up the chain of command than a Lieutenant Commander. Suddenly, out of the blue, Admiral Turner had summoned Stofan to her office, high up in the gothic spires of the building.
Stofan reached Admiral Turner’s office and stopped. She prepared herself mentally for a moment. God, she hoped that she hadn’t done something wrong. She couldn’t think of anything she’d done wrong, but some of the top brass could be arseholes if you didn’t salute them properly. She reached out gingerly and pressed the door buzzer.
After a long moment, the heavy oak-panelled door swung open and she found herself facing a gaunt looking man. He was ranked as Commander and had thinning hair that was combed over a balding patch. His skin looked greasy and he had an unkind scowl on his brittle features.
‘Yes?’ said the Commander with a sneer.
Stofan looked up at him and saluted. ‘Lieutenant Ellen Stofan reporting as ordered Sir!’ she said curtly, snapping into a formal attention.
The Commander looked her up and down as if he were appraising a second hand car. ‘Ahh, yes,’ he said, his upper class accent only accentuating the disdain in his voice. ‘Come in. Admiral Turner is expecting you.’
The thin man stood aside and Stofan marched stiffly into the room, stopping a couple of feet before Admiral Turner’s desk. The man closed the door and stood behind Stofan, rather unnervingly a little too close for comfort. Stofan took in what she could see of the office from her strict attention posture. It was a large room; oak panelled and had a luxurious thick red carpet on the floor. There was one large window, a huge gothic arch that looked straight out across the courtyard below to the government buildings and the Pacific Ocean beyond. Admiral Turner was sat at a large oak desk with a built in touch screen computer and a holographic display. She was an older woman, maybe in her mid forties, and she had immaculately trimmed, short, slightly greying hair.
After a moment, Turner finished what she was doing and looked up at Stofan.
‘Lieutenant Stofan? Thank you for coming. You may stand at ease, and take off that helmet would you. It must be stifling under there.’
Stofan said a prompt, ‘Thank you Sir!’ and took off her helmet, holding it under her arm and relaxing her stance.
‘You’re probably wondering why I called you here?’ said Turner with a tight smile.
‘Yes Sir,’ replied Stofan.
Turner smiled, stood from her seat and moved over towards the arched window with her hands clasped behind her back.
‘You have an impressive service record Stofan,’ said Turner as she watched the distant waves. ‘You’re diligent, always obey orders and have advanced to the rank of Lieutenant remarkably quickly.’
Turner suddenly rounded on Stofan and stared deeply into her eyes.
‘You remind me somewhat of myself when I was a young officer.’
‘Thank-you Sir.’
Turner paused as if she was thinking about something difficult.
‘We need someone like you for a special assignment, one of the utmost danger and secrecy.’
Stofan reddened slightly. She had waited her whole life for this. Finally she had been noticed. She could almost smell the promotion.
‘What I’m going to ask you to do is vital for the future survival of the entire United Worlds Stofan, vital for the survival of our species. Do you understand?’
‘Yes Sir.’
Stofan didn’t quite understand, but she wasn’t going to argue with an Admiral.
‘If you agree to this, there is no going back. You will have nobody to turn to. You will be on your own.’
Stofan nodded.
Then Turner asked Stofan a question that took her completely off guard.
‘Is it true you have no dependents, no family, and no next of kin?’
Stofan wrinkled her forehead for a puzzled moment and then said, ‘Yes Sir. My family were killed when I was a teenager in an air-car accident. I was the only survivor. I have no close relatives. The navy is my home Sir.’
‘And there’s no-one waiting for you on the outside, no boyfriend, girlfriend?’
‘No Sir,’ said Stofan, growing more puzzled by the minute.
‘Good,’ said Turner and then nodded to the Commander who was standing directly behind Stofan. ‘Mabius!’
She felt Mabius’ breath on the back of her neck and then Stofan suddenly felt a slight prick at the base of her skull and then she blacked out.

Pain. Excruciating pain. There was a bright light somewhere above her. Stofan blinked her eyes and tried to focus. She was on some kind of bed or table, strapped down. Everything was white around her and she felt woozy, drugged. A face came into view, covered by a surgeon’s mask.
‘She’s responding nicely,’ said a voice with a thick French accent.
Another face loomed into view. Turner!
‘The chip’s in place?’ she asked.
The masked French man nodded.
‘Oui Madame. It is functioning perfectly.’
Turner looked satisfied.
‘Good. Knock her out.’
Stofan blacked out again.

Stofan suddenly felt cold; the sort of cold that you only get from a concrete floor.
Stofan grappled with consciousness like a greased pig. Slowly she became aware that she was lying in complete blackness on what felt like a bare concrete floor in a small room. She assumed it was small because there was no echo, but how could she tell? It was pitch black. She was freezing cold, shivering and felt like she was wearing something very thin and open at the back like a hospital gown? Her back and buttocks were pressed onto the cold floor.
Stofan struggled into a sitting position, resting her back against the wall and winced with pain. Something hurt like hell at the back of her head. She ran her hand over the spot and it felt wet and slippery. Bringing her hand in front of her face she smelled her fingers. They smelled tinny and metallic, like blood.
Suddenly a door opened and bright white light flooded into the room. The light stung her eyes and the pain in the back of her skull got worse. When her eyes had adjusted, she could make out a black figure standing silhouetted in the doorframe. The figure looked female and had her hands on her hips.
‘Lights!’ commanded a voice with just a hint of a Japanese accent.
The overhead lights blinked on and Stofan finally saw that she was in a cell of some kind. The woman at the door was dressed head to toe in black combat gear and had long dark brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail. She looked down at Stofan and smiled.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.
‘Like shit!’ croaked Stofan, looking up into the woman’s deep brown eyes.
‘You will do. You’ve had surgery.
‘Surgery!’ exploded Stofan. ‘What the fuck have you done to me?’
Suddenly Stofan’s energy returned and she jumped forwards at the woman. In a flash, the Japanese woman pulled a small device from her pocket and pressed a control. Instantly it was as if someone thrust a jagged knife into the back of Stofan’s skull and pushed it relentlessly behind her eyeballs.
Stofan collapsed in howling pain, cradling her head and yelling, ‘Please make it stop! Make it stop!’
The Japanese woman turned off the device and the pain subsided. She walked over to Stofan’s recumbent form and dropped onto her haunches, looking down with what resembled sympathy.
‘Look, I’d like to help you, but I can’t,’ said the Japanese woman. ‘They own you now, just like they own me. If you defy them there will be pain. If you don’t do what they want, there will be death... yours! They’ll ask you to do some horrible things. You will be forced to question your own morality.’
The Japanese woman drew closer to Stofan’s face. Stofan could feel her warm breath on her cheek.
‘I shouldn’t do this…’
The woman’s warm lips drew closer.
‘…but I can offer you a way out. This control,’ she said, indicating a large red button on the device, ‘is a kill switch. I can tell them that you jumped me and grabbed the device. If you press this, it will all be over. It will be painful, but at least it will be quick.’
The Japanese woman pressed the control device into Stofan’s shaking hands and then stood up.
‘Otherwise you’ll be slowly turned into a monster!’
When the Japanese woman spoke again it was almost a whisper.
‘Just like me…’
Stofan stared at the device in horror and then back up into the eyes of the Japanese woman.
‘I…. can’t!’ she said through tears and spittle.
The Japanese woman bent back down and retrieved the device. She walked back over towards the door and grabbed something, throwing it towards Stofan. It was a pile of black combat clothes, just like hers.
‘Don’t say that I didn’t warn you,’ said the Japanese woman. ‘You’re theirs now. They own your soul and there’s absolutely nothing that you can do about it.’
She turned to leave.
‘Get dressed. I have to take you home.’
‘Then what?’ asked Stofan in a quavering voice.
The assassin turned back and smiled. ‘Then you wait until your called to meet them,’ she said.

Part four is due to be released on Saturday 17th August 2013...

This is one of the most difficult reviews I have had to write. It took me a long while to get used to the first person narrative in which Darren Shan’s book, The ZOM-B Chronicles, is written. I found the writing style a little distracting at first. Ignoring the fact that the book is apparently aimed at a young adult audience, the story is very good. I struggled with the first few chapters which were full of teenage angst but once the zombies started to rampage and feast the story became much more interesting.

The book is definitely a book of two halves, having been spliced together from two separate books, “ZOM-B” and “ZOM-B Underground”. As I said, the first half reads like a teenage drama that just happens to have zombies in it. I almost stopped reading it at this point but I persevered and I’m glad that I did.

The second half is like another book entirely. The writing is tighter, the story gripping and full of action and horror. The perspective from a zombie’s point of view is intriguing and the descriptions visceral and unpleasant enough to make you squirm. What saved the book is the clear notion that this is not just another zombie holocaust. There is a sinister power in action behind the scenes, personified in one of the most memorable characters that I can recall from any horror franchise.

Mr Dowling is part clown, part zombie, part insect nest and thoroughly terrifying. Who he is or what he’s up to I assume will be revealed in later books and the desire to know that is enough to encourage me to read more of Darran Shan’s sequels. A book of two halves; persevere to the end and I promise that it will be worth your while.