Stephen Drivick's Blog - Posts Tagged "sometimes-we-ran"
So ..who am I?
Hello. This is my first blog, and my first blog post ever.
First, ...who the heck am I? Well, I am a 43-year-old CAD drafter from Woodstock, GA that happened to write a zombie apocalypse novel.:)
It didn't start off as a novel. One day, around Halloween, I decided to try something creative, and write a zombie-themed short story. I used some elements from some thoughts I had about a post-apocalyptic world that I had rattling around in my brain. Add some zombies, and a story was born. It was called "Among the Dead." I wrote about 2500 words, and that was that.
Or so I thought. I couldn't stop. I added more and more till I had about 65,000 words or so. None of them were any good, but it was at least neatly typed in Open Office.
Then I heard about Amazon's KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) program, and a plan was born. Could I actually do it? I set out to challenge myself to publish to Amazon. After all, I had given Amazon a lot of money over the years. Why not see if I could get some back.:)
First came three self-edits. I read through my manuscript(actually, first I started calling it a manuscript), then brought out the RED PEN and started crossing things off. First, it was just a few words. Eventually whole passages and even chapters began to fall. After the bloodletting, there was a quick trip through ErrNet.
Next was a trip to a real editor. I sent it to eBookEditingPro.com. I was nervous. They were the first people to read my mess besides me. I spent the next week or so regretting my decision to write. Would they edit it, or would they sent it back with a email heckling me?
It came back with some helpful edits that I incorporated into the work. EBookEditingPro.com did an excellent job ...they actually made it sound like a book people could read!:)
Home stretch time. I built the book on Leanpub.com (great service), and they made nice, clean, ebook-like files for the Kindle, NOOK, and other readers. A title change to "Sometimes We Ran"(Among the Dead was already taken-damn), and then it was ready for the world ...I hoped.
Still with me? I set up an account with Amazon, uploaded files, including a killer cover, and set my creation out into the world for all to see ...like a Frankenstein's monster.
It sold two on the first day, and I was thrilled ...someone actually is reading it. Holy crap. It was exciting and scary at the same time.
I've glossed over a lot. It was not as easy as I made it seem. There were nights that I wanted to throw my computer across the room. There were nights I cursed my editors, Amazon, Leanpub, and others for talking me into this. All in all, though, it was a great experience.
Do I feel like a writer? I don't know yet. I am kinda playing this by ear for now. If it turns out I have fun doing something creative, I'll keep at it ...at least until Amazon tells me to stop.:)
Would I do it again? You bet!:) How about "Sometimes We Ran 2"?
Keep reading.
First, ...who the heck am I? Well, I am a 43-year-old CAD drafter from Woodstock, GA that happened to write a zombie apocalypse novel.:)
It didn't start off as a novel. One day, around Halloween, I decided to try something creative, and write a zombie-themed short story. I used some elements from some thoughts I had about a post-apocalyptic world that I had rattling around in my brain. Add some zombies, and a story was born. It was called "Among the Dead." I wrote about 2500 words, and that was that.
Or so I thought. I couldn't stop. I added more and more till I had about 65,000 words or so. None of them were any good, but it was at least neatly typed in Open Office.
Then I heard about Amazon's KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) program, and a plan was born. Could I actually do it? I set out to challenge myself to publish to Amazon. After all, I had given Amazon a lot of money over the years. Why not see if I could get some back.:)
First came three self-edits. I read through my manuscript(actually, first I started calling it a manuscript), then brought out the RED PEN and started crossing things off. First, it was just a few words. Eventually whole passages and even chapters began to fall. After the bloodletting, there was a quick trip through ErrNet.
Next was a trip to a real editor. I sent it to eBookEditingPro.com. I was nervous. They were the first people to read my mess besides me. I spent the next week or so regretting my decision to write. Would they edit it, or would they sent it back with a email heckling me?
It came back with some helpful edits that I incorporated into the work. EBookEditingPro.com did an excellent job ...they actually made it sound like a book people could read!:)
Home stretch time. I built the book on Leanpub.com (great service), and they made nice, clean, ebook-like files for the Kindle, NOOK, and other readers. A title change to "Sometimes We Ran"(Among the Dead was already taken-damn), and then it was ready for the world ...I hoped.
Still with me? I set up an account with Amazon, uploaded files, including a killer cover, and set my creation out into the world for all to see ...like a Frankenstein's monster.
It sold two on the first day, and I was thrilled ...someone actually is reading it. Holy crap. It was exciting and scary at the same time.
I've glossed over a lot. It was not as easy as I made it seem. There were nights that I wanted to throw my computer across the room. There were nights I cursed my editors, Amazon, Leanpub, and others for talking me into this. All in all, though, it was a great experience.
Do I feel like a writer? I don't know yet. I am kinda playing this by ear for now. If it turns out I have fun doing something creative, I'll keep at it ...at least until Amazon tells me to stop.:)
Would I do it again? You bet!:) How about "Sometimes We Ran 2"?
Keep reading.
My First Review
My novel Sometimes We Ran received its first review on Amazon.
To tell you the truth, I had been dreading this moment. Other authors told of one and two star reviews crushing dreams and spirits. I have bought things from Amazon. I know people can be downright mean when they review stuff.
I am pleased to say it was four star review! Very cool!
Not to brag (oh hell, lets brag!) there were words like:
"Lots of grisly scenes in here but also some much needed humor to break things up..."
"This is definitely a book for zombie lovers...."
"Highly recommended..."
Real cool, and a little bit of a relief. I am truly humbled, and glad someone enjoyed my work. A truly great day for me.
And to Navy vet...vt town (my first reviewer) Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.
To tell you the truth, I had been dreading this moment. Other authors told of one and two star reviews crushing dreams and spirits. I have bought things from Amazon. I know people can be downright mean when they review stuff.
I am pleased to say it was four star review! Very cool!
Not to brag (oh hell, lets brag!) there were words like:
"Lots of grisly scenes in here but also some much needed humor to break things up..."
"This is definitely a book for zombie lovers...."
"Highly recommended..."
Real cool, and a little bit of a relief. I am truly humbled, and glad someone enjoyed my work. A truly great day for me.
And to Navy vet...vt town (my first reviewer) Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.
Virtual Ebook Fair - Sample Saturday #1
Sample from Sometimes We Ran: A Story from the Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 1
Sightseeing
Of all the things you could find on the road during a zombie apocalypse, the undead kids were always the worst.
I mean, the regular undead and the dogs were bad enough, but the kid versions really messed with your head. I watched from my hiding place among the gas pumps as the little walking corpse shambled around the parking lot. She had been a little girl, really cute and adorable. Her dress, or what remained of her dress, was a little pink frilly job with lace at the neck. She dragged her right leg behind her. The foot was nearly chewed off, and the bones were exposed. Her chest cavity was pretty much gone, and her lower jaw was missing. The only sound she could make was a horrible gurgling sound, like someone was pouring milk down her throat as she was trying to scream.
What was she, seven, eight years old? Damn shame. She's never going to grow up, go to school, or dance at a prom.
Never going to bring home a boy that pisses off her Dad.
I noticed she was clutching a headless doll. It was blood stained and extremely filthy. I think that detail unsettled me most of all. Sometimes you see the dead walking around clutching the last thing they ever touched. It could be an empty gun from their last battle, or a steak knife, or even something as mundane as a coffee cup. The kids usually have a teddy bear or some other favorite toy in their cold, dead hands.
The headless doll was a new one. I'd never seen a zombie holding one before.
I watched for a few more minutes. She didn't notice me among the gas pumps, so I guess she was pretty far gone. Usually these zombies catch on to fresh meat pretty quick and come running for a quick meal.
I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to put her down before she drew more of her undead friends to the gas station. I drew my gun and stepped out from my hiding place to put the little bastard out of her misery. She noticed me and began that horrible noise they all make. It's usually a high pitched squeal, or a low, menacing growl. Without her lower jaw, though, it was more of a low gurgle that raised goose bumps on my arm. No matter how many of these things I put down, that sound still causes the the little hairs on my neck to stand up.
Then there's the eyes. They are usually yellow or red. The yellows are more common, but it's the rare reds that could be a problem. They're more violent and hungry, and will attack on sight. With Red-Eyes, you shoot first and run away quickly.
And you better hit them in the head. It's the only way to put them down. Just like in the movies. Sometimes that doesn't even work on the first try.
One of her eyes was gone; the other was yellow. She raised the arm without the doll and started dragging herself over to me, very slowly.
Sometimes these things can be pretty fast. I recall an incident with one a few weeks ago. It was a soccer mom, I think. I stumbled on her in another parking lot somewhere long ago. For a minute, I thought she was a survivor, until I saw her dead, yellow eyes and the fresh blood on her designer clothes. She had been feeding. Her victim was a younger girl, a teenager. I hoped it wasn't her daughter. Maybe her meal had been part of her carpool or something.
She was one of the fast ones. As soon as she saw me, she made an unholy shriek and ran in my direction. I was ready, and took her out with my rifle. It took two shots. I missed on the first, and hit her in the shoulder. The second shot got her right between the eyes. She was going so fast, she actually ran for a few more steps before falling. I put a bullet in her last meal too, just in case.
The little girl zombie at the gas station wasn't going anywhere fast. She could barely move under her own power. Besides her mangled right foot, most of the bones and muscles in her legs and lower extremities were either broken or missing. As I approached, I circled around her to assess the situation. The best she could do was turn slightly and moan. She was too far gone to be able to chase me.
The back of her head was mostly gone as well. How the hell was she still walking around? Some of these things can be tough customers. I've seen a few with missing limbs crawling on the ground to find their next meal. Others had the skin mostly peeled from their bodies, their skeletons exposed like a realistic Halloween costume. Sometimes, they're burned or crushed beyond recognition, but still walking around and feeding. Then there were the dogs.
Nobody figured that dogs could turn. They ate infected meat from the ones walking around, and then they turned into undead dogs. The turned dogs were always bad news. They're a hell of a lot faster, and they work in groups. It's good old-fashioned nightmare fuel. You must always avoid the dogs.
I followed the little girl zombie for a few seconds, getting ready to blow her rotting brains out. I also looked around to see if she was alone. I didn't want any of her undead buddies sneaking up on me. It was just her and me in this former gas station. A long time ago, people would stop here on the way to work to gas up their cars and continue on with their ordinary lives. Mom and Dad would fill up their coffee cups with inexpensive brew and the kids would buy their sugary snacks. Now the only remaining cars are the stripped hulks abandoned here when the fuel ran out. The coffee and sugary snacks are long gone. Mom and Dad and the kids are dead, or walking around feeding on the living as one big happy zombie family.
It really hurts to think about the old world, before it all went bad.
The little girl zombie stumbled, and fell at my feet. She reached for me in hunger. It might have been my imagination, but I almost saw her begging me to kill her and put her out of her misery. I put the gun up to her head. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, and that her perpetual nightmare was finally over. They are never grateful. They're just animals, living only to feed. I pulled the trigger, and her head exploded like an overripe melon.
Scratch another Yellow-Eye.
I turned my attention to the gas station. I took a quick look around to see if there are any more nasty surprises inside. You can never be too careful. Not in this new world.
The building was clear. The place, a virtual time capsule, was frozen at the exact time the stuff hit the fan. All the gas was, of course, gone. Also gone was most of the food and water. What was left was either spoiled and useless or spread on the ground. The floor was a macabre mixture of smashed food, garbage, and dried blood. A few spent shotgun shells were scattered on the black-and-white tiled floor. This place must have been a war zone when everybody tried to find safety. I could almost see the throng of people trying to buy or steal anything that wasn't tied down. The first few days of the outbreak were pure hell. I didn't find much: a few unopened bottles of water and a few batteries. Everything else was useless. The register was crammed full of old twenty dollar bills. Maybe someone could use them as toilet paper.
I found a few unopened packages of beef jerky near the cash register. Beef jerky is not my favorite, but you can't pass up a meal when it presents itself. I bit off a sizable portion, and started to chew. The dried meat was salty and felt a little like shoe leather in my mouth. I ignored the horrible taste, and swallowed. It went down hard, but the nourishment was welcome. I threw a few packages in my backpack. It might come in handy someday. I finished my little snack, and then started poking around the counter looking for more goodies.
I heard a noise behind me. Without thinking, I turned around with my handgun already drawn. All these weeks on the road running from the undead have honed my skills to a fine point. The slightest noise gets me ready for battle.
It's only a cat. I've drawn my weapon on a skinny, little gray cat with a big round face trying to eat a bloated sugar doughnut on the floor. One of its paws was mangled beyond repair. Like me, this little guy has had to struggle a bit to survive.
So far, all the cats that I have encountered have been normal. I bent down, and extended my hand palm up to show that I was friendly. The cat would have nothing of it, and arched its back. It showed its teeth and howled a little bit. I guess it had gone a little feral.
Okay, little fella. I'll leave you alone. Just to show him I wasn't a bad guy, I ripped a few pieces of beef jerky into bite-sized chunks, and dropped them in front of the cat's nose. Hunger overcame fear, and it pounced on the small meal like a playful kitten. Enjoy, little buddy. Maybe one day you can help me out of a jam. I waved goodbye to my little feline companion, and walked outside into the fading sunlight.
I thought about staying the night here. My legs and back were aching, and I could use a nice long rest. However, the little girl zombie may not have been alone. I decided to walk on down the road. When it gets dark, I'll find a place to bed down and rest. You do not want to travel at night. Things get much worse at night.
As a walked away from the gas station, I noticed the sign It said $3.58/gallon for regular unleaded. Not a bad price for gas during an apocalypse.
***************************
Available for sale in the Amazon Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
*****************************************
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1
Sightseeing
Of all the things you could find on the road during a zombie apocalypse, the undead kids were always the worst.
I mean, the regular undead and the dogs were bad enough, but the kid versions really messed with your head. I watched from my hiding place among the gas pumps as the little walking corpse shambled around the parking lot. She had been a little girl, really cute and adorable. Her dress, or what remained of her dress, was a little pink frilly job with lace at the neck. She dragged her right leg behind her. The foot was nearly chewed off, and the bones were exposed. Her chest cavity was pretty much gone, and her lower jaw was missing. The only sound she could make was a horrible gurgling sound, like someone was pouring milk down her throat as she was trying to scream.
What was she, seven, eight years old? Damn shame. She's never going to grow up, go to school, or dance at a prom.
Never going to bring home a boy that pisses off her Dad.
I noticed she was clutching a headless doll. It was blood stained and extremely filthy. I think that detail unsettled me most of all. Sometimes you see the dead walking around clutching the last thing they ever touched. It could be an empty gun from their last battle, or a steak knife, or even something as mundane as a coffee cup. The kids usually have a teddy bear or some other favorite toy in their cold, dead hands.
The headless doll was a new one. I'd never seen a zombie holding one before.
I watched for a few more minutes. She didn't notice me among the gas pumps, so I guess she was pretty far gone. Usually these zombies catch on to fresh meat pretty quick and come running for a quick meal.
I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to put her down before she drew more of her undead friends to the gas station. I drew my gun and stepped out from my hiding place to put the little bastard out of her misery. She noticed me and began that horrible noise they all make. It's usually a high pitched squeal, or a low, menacing growl. Without her lower jaw, though, it was more of a low gurgle that raised goose bumps on my arm. No matter how many of these things I put down, that sound still causes the the little hairs on my neck to stand up.
Then there's the eyes. They are usually yellow or red. The yellows are more common, but it's the rare reds that could be a problem. They're more violent and hungry, and will attack on sight. With Red-Eyes, you shoot first and run away quickly.
And you better hit them in the head. It's the only way to put them down. Just like in the movies. Sometimes that doesn't even work on the first try.
One of her eyes was gone; the other was yellow. She raised the arm without the doll and started dragging herself over to me, very slowly.
Sometimes these things can be pretty fast. I recall an incident with one a few weeks ago. It was a soccer mom, I think. I stumbled on her in another parking lot somewhere long ago. For a minute, I thought she was a survivor, until I saw her dead, yellow eyes and the fresh blood on her designer clothes. She had been feeding. Her victim was a younger girl, a teenager. I hoped it wasn't her daughter. Maybe her meal had been part of her carpool or something.
She was one of the fast ones. As soon as she saw me, she made an unholy shriek and ran in my direction. I was ready, and took her out with my rifle. It took two shots. I missed on the first, and hit her in the shoulder. The second shot got her right between the eyes. She was going so fast, she actually ran for a few more steps before falling. I put a bullet in her last meal too, just in case.
The little girl zombie at the gas station wasn't going anywhere fast. She could barely move under her own power. Besides her mangled right foot, most of the bones and muscles in her legs and lower extremities were either broken or missing. As I approached, I circled around her to assess the situation. The best she could do was turn slightly and moan. She was too far gone to be able to chase me.
The back of her head was mostly gone as well. How the hell was she still walking around? Some of these things can be tough customers. I've seen a few with missing limbs crawling on the ground to find their next meal. Others had the skin mostly peeled from their bodies, their skeletons exposed like a realistic Halloween costume. Sometimes, they're burned or crushed beyond recognition, but still walking around and feeding. Then there were the dogs.
Nobody figured that dogs could turn. They ate infected meat from the ones walking around, and then they turned into undead dogs. The turned dogs were always bad news. They're a hell of a lot faster, and they work in groups. It's good old-fashioned nightmare fuel. You must always avoid the dogs.
I followed the little girl zombie for a few seconds, getting ready to blow her rotting brains out. I also looked around to see if she was alone. I didn't want any of her undead buddies sneaking up on me. It was just her and me in this former gas station. A long time ago, people would stop here on the way to work to gas up their cars and continue on with their ordinary lives. Mom and Dad would fill up their coffee cups with inexpensive brew and the kids would buy their sugary snacks. Now the only remaining cars are the stripped hulks abandoned here when the fuel ran out. The coffee and sugary snacks are long gone. Mom and Dad and the kids are dead, or walking around feeding on the living as one big happy zombie family.
It really hurts to think about the old world, before it all went bad.
The little girl zombie stumbled, and fell at my feet. She reached for me in hunger. It might have been my imagination, but I almost saw her begging me to kill her and put her out of her misery. I put the gun up to her head. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, and that her perpetual nightmare was finally over. They are never grateful. They're just animals, living only to feed. I pulled the trigger, and her head exploded like an overripe melon.
Scratch another Yellow-Eye.
I turned my attention to the gas station. I took a quick look around to see if there are any more nasty surprises inside. You can never be too careful. Not in this new world.
The building was clear. The place, a virtual time capsule, was frozen at the exact time the stuff hit the fan. All the gas was, of course, gone. Also gone was most of the food and water. What was left was either spoiled and useless or spread on the ground. The floor was a macabre mixture of smashed food, garbage, and dried blood. A few spent shotgun shells were scattered on the black-and-white tiled floor. This place must have been a war zone when everybody tried to find safety. I could almost see the throng of people trying to buy or steal anything that wasn't tied down. The first few days of the outbreak were pure hell. I didn't find much: a few unopened bottles of water and a few batteries. Everything else was useless. The register was crammed full of old twenty dollar bills. Maybe someone could use them as toilet paper.
I found a few unopened packages of beef jerky near the cash register. Beef jerky is not my favorite, but you can't pass up a meal when it presents itself. I bit off a sizable portion, and started to chew. The dried meat was salty and felt a little like shoe leather in my mouth. I ignored the horrible taste, and swallowed. It went down hard, but the nourishment was welcome. I threw a few packages in my backpack. It might come in handy someday. I finished my little snack, and then started poking around the counter looking for more goodies.
I heard a noise behind me. Without thinking, I turned around with my handgun already drawn. All these weeks on the road running from the undead have honed my skills to a fine point. The slightest noise gets me ready for battle.
It's only a cat. I've drawn my weapon on a skinny, little gray cat with a big round face trying to eat a bloated sugar doughnut on the floor. One of its paws was mangled beyond repair. Like me, this little guy has had to struggle a bit to survive.
So far, all the cats that I have encountered have been normal. I bent down, and extended my hand palm up to show that I was friendly. The cat would have nothing of it, and arched its back. It showed its teeth and howled a little bit. I guess it had gone a little feral.
Okay, little fella. I'll leave you alone. Just to show him I wasn't a bad guy, I ripped a few pieces of beef jerky into bite-sized chunks, and dropped them in front of the cat's nose. Hunger overcame fear, and it pounced on the small meal like a playful kitten. Enjoy, little buddy. Maybe one day you can help me out of a jam. I waved goodbye to my little feline companion, and walked outside into the fading sunlight.
I thought about staying the night here. My legs and back were aching, and I could use a nice long rest. However, the little girl zombie may not have been alone. I decided to walk on down the road. When it gets dark, I'll find a place to bed down and rest. You do not want to travel at night. Things get much worse at night.
As a walked away from the gas station, I noticed the sign It said $3.58/gallon for regular unleaded. Not a bad price for gas during an apocalypse.
***************************
Available for sale in the Amazon Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
*****************************************
Thanks for reading!
50 Copies
Well it happened. I made another milestone. Sometimes We Ran just sold its 50th copy.
It's not a bestseller or anything, but to me this is pretty good news. I didn't think it would sell anything.:) I'm glad people are reading and are, hopefully, enjoying my work.
The news isn't all good. Still have a goose egg in the Nook, Kobo, and Apple camps. Maybe it takes more time for their zombie fans to find the books they want.:)
It's not a bestseller or anything, but to me this is pretty good news. I didn't think it would sell anything.:) I'm glad people are reading and are, hopefully, enjoying my work.
The news isn't all good. Still have a goose egg in the Nook, Kobo, and Apple camps. Maybe it takes more time for their zombie fans to find the books they want.:)
Sample Saturday #2
A sample from Sometimes We Ran, Chapter 20: The Accident
We rounded a slight curve in the road and came upon an intersection. I squinted my eyes in the darkness and saw several buildings arranged near the road. I almost jumped for joy as I spotted a possible safe place. I felt like I had been reunited with an old friend.
It was a gas station with an attached food store.
It was a few hundred yards away, and looked like excellent cover. I decided to make a run for it. I picked up Claire and carried her as I ran for the front door. With my bruised ribs and hurt knee, it felt like I ran a mile. The parking lot was full of wrecked cars and decaying bodies, but the building looked intact. The door was partially open. With my arms full of Claire, I kicked it open. I had to turn sideways in the doorway to get inside. The inside was wrecked, as usual. I took a quick look, but found nobody inside. I cleared a spot, and laid Claire on the floor. She had gone really pale, and had passed out. She was definitely going into shock.
I heard a noise at the door. I quickly turned around, and drew my shotgun at the same time. A young Red-Eye stood in the doorway. It seemed that I had forgotten to close the door.
He stood there watching me for a moment. He cocked his head from side to side perhaps sizing me up. The worst part was his eyes. They were twin glowing red orbs in his skull, that seemed to pierce right through me. He let out a low growl, and leaped at me. It wasn't very good. Outside the store, it would have been a graceful jump, and he would have killed me where I stood. Inside the store, though, it was a clumsy, staggering fall through debris and glass. I pulled the trigger and fired at the attacking zombie. The shotgun blast caught him in the shoulder. He stumbled, recovered, and then reached for me. I stepped back to avoid his reach, and jammed the butt of the shotgun into the creature's skull. He fell backwards on the floor, and I shot him again. The shot grazed the side of his head. The Red-Eye screeched, and started flopping around in the doorway of the gas station. I stood over him, and blew his brains out with another shell. The Red-Eye went silent.
Adrenaline coursing through me, I stood over the broken body of the zombie. I heard a sound outside, and glanced out the open door. Two more Red-Eyes stood near the dead gas pumps.
They were staring at me as I stood over their dead companion.
Suddenly, a feeling of rage washed over me. I had reached my breaking point, and the time for fear and running was over. I stowed my shotgun, and dragged the dead Red-Eye into the parking lot. I then stood up, drew my shotgun, and pointed it at the two zombies in the parking lot. They started at me in confusion.
I screwed up my courage. “Look at your buddy, you ugly bastards. I blew his brains out. If you want to eat me and my friend, you're going to have to go through me. You got it?”
They stood silently for a minute staring at me and my shotgun. After a little calculation, they began to make their move. I aimed my shotgun at their heads. “I'm not bluffing. One or both of you are about to die.”
The zombies got the message, and with a series of clicking noises and growls, they retreated. They paused for a minute when they got to the road, and glanced back. It almost looked like they were trying to remember me for future encounters. After a few seconds of heavy glancing, they took off into the woods.
I stood there for a second, my shotgun ready. It seems the Red-Eyes had achieved some sort of intelligence. They recognized me as a threat, and had retreated to fight another day. I had no doubt that they would keep watching, and waiting for a chance to strike. After all, you can't pass up a good meal, even if you're a zombie.
I stowed my shotgun, and ran inside. I slammed the door and locked us in. I piled a few things in the doorway for a little added security. I took a quick look through the door glass at the parking lot. Nothing was moving. The Red-Eyes were going to leave us alone for now.
I turned my attention to Claire. She was starting to come to, and attempting to get to a sitting position. I ran to her side. “Don't move. You're hurt.” She lay down on the hard floor without protest.
I took off my backpack, and took out our first aid kit. I tended to her cuts and abrasions as best I could with my limited supplies. She winced in pain whenever I dabbed a cut with antibiotic ointment. Some of the cuts were pretty deep. I began to wonder if Claire was going to be all right.
During my attempts at first aid, Claire reached up and touched my face. “John, you're bleeding. Were we in some kind of accident?”
I looked into her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, Claire. I crashed the scooter, remember?” I may have to add a concussion to her list of aliments.
“Oh, yeah. I remember,” she said weakly. “Guess that's why I'm lying on the floor, huh?”
I tried to laugh, but was unsuccessful. “I'm sorry. I wish it was me who was on the floor.”
Claire touched my hand. “It's okay. I'll be okay.” A weak smile crossed her lips.
And that's when I noticed the bite on her wrist.
It was about two inches long, on the top of her wrist near her hand. It looked like tiny red lines spaced close together in a circular pattern. I moved her sleeve slightly down her arm, and turned her wrist over. The tiny red lines continued underneath her arm as well. It was a dog bite. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the store if it had penetrated her skin. Claire wasn't showing any zombie symptoms yet. Maybe the dog bites took longer. I felt very weak and dizzy.
I started to tremble as I held Claire's wrist. I couldn't believe what I saw. After all we'd been through, after all the precautions, one of us gets bit by a damn dog. It should be me. Why didn't it bite me? Claire didn't deserve this.
She must have seen the concern on my face. “What's the matter, Tiger?” she asked in a weak voice. Without uttering a word, I showed Claire her wrist. She glanced at it for a second, and a terrible look crossed her face. “Great,” she said. “Just great.”
I looked away so she couldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. “Claire, I'm sorry,” I said, choking up.
She lay there for a few minutes, then she grabbed my arm. “John, look at me.” I reluctantly looked her in the eyes. “It's okay. I think we both knew our luck would run out eventually. I think we had a good run. We tried. We really tried. Now you have to be strong.”
Unfortunately, I knew what I had to do. “I'm sorry. I didn't want this for you. It should be me.” I was holding both her hands now, and tears were running down my cheeks.
Claire tried to smile, but she was crying as well. “Shh ...Don't talk like that. You know what you have to do. Don't let me be one of those things for more than a few seconds, okay?”
I nodded. “I ...I don't think I can do it.” The thought of shooting her made me sick to my stomach.
Claire painfully picked her head up to look me in the eyes. “You promised, remember? Back when we first met. You promised to take care of me. Please don't let me become one of those things.”
I nodded weakly. “I remember. You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you.”
Claire laid her head back down on the floor. “Thank you, Tiger.” She paused for a minute, then said, “You've been a really good friend. You and I have become sort of a family, you know.” She started squeezing my hands till they were almost breaking. “I'm really glad we found each other. It was fun.” Claire paused to touch my face. “I love you, John,” she said through her tears. She lay back and closed her eyes. “Okay. I'm ready. Just make it quick”
I looked down at her for a moment. There was nothing I could do or say to ease her pain. Once you're bitten, it's all over. I could only do what she wanted, and not let her join the other undead. I brushed aside some pink-highlighted auburn hair, and kissed her on the forehead.
I drew my gun, and sat down beside her in the dark store. I sat beside her and waited.
I waited for Claire to turn.
Thanks for stopping by!
***********************
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We rounded a slight curve in the road and came upon an intersection. I squinted my eyes in the darkness and saw several buildings arranged near the road. I almost jumped for joy as I spotted a possible safe place. I felt like I had been reunited with an old friend.
It was a gas station with an attached food store.
It was a few hundred yards away, and looked like excellent cover. I decided to make a run for it. I picked up Claire and carried her as I ran for the front door. With my bruised ribs and hurt knee, it felt like I ran a mile. The parking lot was full of wrecked cars and decaying bodies, but the building looked intact. The door was partially open. With my arms full of Claire, I kicked it open. I had to turn sideways in the doorway to get inside. The inside was wrecked, as usual. I took a quick look, but found nobody inside. I cleared a spot, and laid Claire on the floor. She had gone really pale, and had passed out. She was definitely going into shock.
I heard a noise at the door. I quickly turned around, and drew my shotgun at the same time. A young Red-Eye stood in the doorway. It seemed that I had forgotten to close the door.
He stood there watching me for a moment. He cocked his head from side to side perhaps sizing me up. The worst part was his eyes. They were twin glowing red orbs in his skull, that seemed to pierce right through me. He let out a low growl, and leaped at me. It wasn't very good. Outside the store, it would have been a graceful jump, and he would have killed me where I stood. Inside the store, though, it was a clumsy, staggering fall through debris and glass. I pulled the trigger and fired at the attacking zombie. The shotgun blast caught him in the shoulder. He stumbled, recovered, and then reached for me. I stepped back to avoid his reach, and jammed the butt of the shotgun into the creature's skull. He fell backwards on the floor, and I shot him again. The shot grazed the side of his head. The Red-Eye screeched, and started flopping around in the doorway of the gas station. I stood over him, and blew his brains out with another shell. The Red-Eye went silent.
Adrenaline coursing through me, I stood over the broken body of the zombie. I heard a sound outside, and glanced out the open door. Two more Red-Eyes stood near the dead gas pumps.
They were staring at me as I stood over their dead companion.
Suddenly, a feeling of rage washed over me. I had reached my breaking point, and the time for fear and running was over. I stowed my shotgun, and dragged the dead Red-Eye into the parking lot. I then stood up, drew my shotgun, and pointed it at the two zombies in the parking lot. They started at me in confusion.
I screwed up my courage. “Look at your buddy, you ugly bastards. I blew his brains out. If you want to eat me and my friend, you're going to have to go through me. You got it?”
They stood silently for a minute staring at me and my shotgun. After a little calculation, they began to make their move. I aimed my shotgun at their heads. “I'm not bluffing. One or both of you are about to die.”
The zombies got the message, and with a series of clicking noises and growls, they retreated. They paused for a minute when they got to the road, and glanced back. It almost looked like they were trying to remember me for future encounters. After a few seconds of heavy glancing, they took off into the woods.
I stood there for a second, my shotgun ready. It seems the Red-Eyes had achieved some sort of intelligence. They recognized me as a threat, and had retreated to fight another day. I had no doubt that they would keep watching, and waiting for a chance to strike. After all, you can't pass up a good meal, even if you're a zombie.
I stowed my shotgun, and ran inside. I slammed the door and locked us in. I piled a few things in the doorway for a little added security. I took a quick look through the door glass at the parking lot. Nothing was moving. The Red-Eyes were going to leave us alone for now.
I turned my attention to Claire. She was starting to come to, and attempting to get to a sitting position. I ran to her side. “Don't move. You're hurt.” She lay down on the hard floor without protest.
I took off my backpack, and took out our first aid kit. I tended to her cuts and abrasions as best I could with my limited supplies. She winced in pain whenever I dabbed a cut with antibiotic ointment. Some of the cuts were pretty deep. I began to wonder if Claire was going to be all right.
During my attempts at first aid, Claire reached up and touched my face. “John, you're bleeding. Were we in some kind of accident?”
I looked into her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, Claire. I crashed the scooter, remember?” I may have to add a concussion to her list of aliments.
“Oh, yeah. I remember,” she said weakly. “Guess that's why I'm lying on the floor, huh?”
I tried to laugh, but was unsuccessful. “I'm sorry. I wish it was me who was on the floor.”
Claire touched my hand. “It's okay. I'll be okay.” A weak smile crossed her lips.
And that's when I noticed the bite on her wrist.
It was about two inches long, on the top of her wrist near her hand. It looked like tiny red lines spaced close together in a circular pattern. I moved her sleeve slightly down her arm, and turned her wrist over. The tiny red lines continued underneath her arm as well. It was a dog bite. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the store if it had penetrated her skin. Claire wasn't showing any zombie symptoms yet. Maybe the dog bites took longer. I felt very weak and dizzy.
I started to tremble as I held Claire's wrist. I couldn't believe what I saw. After all we'd been through, after all the precautions, one of us gets bit by a damn dog. It should be me. Why didn't it bite me? Claire didn't deserve this.
She must have seen the concern on my face. “What's the matter, Tiger?” she asked in a weak voice. Without uttering a word, I showed Claire her wrist. She glanced at it for a second, and a terrible look crossed her face. “Great,” she said. “Just great.”
I looked away so she couldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. “Claire, I'm sorry,” I said, choking up.
She lay there for a few minutes, then she grabbed my arm. “John, look at me.” I reluctantly looked her in the eyes. “It's okay. I think we both knew our luck would run out eventually. I think we had a good run. We tried. We really tried. Now you have to be strong.”
Unfortunately, I knew what I had to do. “I'm sorry. I didn't want this for you. It should be me.” I was holding both her hands now, and tears were running down my cheeks.
Claire tried to smile, but she was crying as well. “Shh ...Don't talk like that. You know what you have to do. Don't let me be one of those things for more than a few seconds, okay?”
I nodded. “I ...I don't think I can do it.” The thought of shooting her made me sick to my stomach.
Claire painfully picked her head up to look me in the eyes. “You promised, remember? Back when we first met. You promised to take care of me. Please don't let me become one of those things.”
I nodded weakly. “I remember. You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you.”
Claire laid her head back down on the floor. “Thank you, Tiger.” She paused for a minute, then said, “You've been a really good friend. You and I have become sort of a family, you know.” She started squeezing my hands till they were almost breaking. “I'm really glad we found each other. It was fun.” Claire paused to touch my face. “I love you, John,” she said through her tears. She lay back and closed her eyes. “Okay. I'm ready. Just make it quick”
I looked down at her for a moment. There was nothing I could do or say to ease her pain. Once you're bitten, it's all over. I could only do what she wanted, and not let her join the other undead. I brushed aside some pink-highlighted auburn hair, and kissed her on the forehead.
I drew my gun, and sat down beside her in the dark store. I sat beside her and waited.
I waited for Claire to turn.
Thanks for stopping by!
***********************
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Sample Saturday #3
A sample from Sometimes We Ran, Chapter 20, "The Accident."
We rode for a while stopping in a few places to find supplies. The wrecked stores and gas stations we stopped at were very empty and picked over. We managed a few bottles of water and maybe a couple packages of crackers. Claire found a few cases of cat and dog food left over in a pet store, but we weren't that desperate yet. We still had about a week or two of food and water between us, so it wasn't time to panic.
As we rode, the weather turned downright nasty. The steady drizzle that had persisted throughout the day turned into a cold rain. After a few miles, Claire and I were cold, wet, and miserable. I had just started to look for a dry place to rest, when I spotted a sign on the side of the road. It was one of those light up signs with the black letters that you could change. As I got closer, I could make out the words “Bob's Biker Bar-1 mi. on right.” I pulled on the brakes, and stopped at the sign.
“Why'd you stop?” Claire asked.
I nodded to the sign. “I was just wondering if you wanted to stop for a drink or two. We can rest and dry up.” I also hoped a drink and a little break would raise her sagging spirit.
Claire started to giggle. “Okay. Sounds good. I could use a drink.”
We rode for about a mile, and indeed Bob's Biker Bar showed up on the right. It looked like a small apocalyptic war had been fought in the parking lot. A pickup truck rested on it's roof in the road in front of the bar. Further up the road, a tractor trailer lay on it's side like a beached whale. A few other wrecked cars and trucks were scattered about on the road and parking lot. Glass and debris was everywhere, along with a few decaying bodies.
It was business as usual.
The bar itself was a small, flat-roofed building painted an obnoxious shade of pinkish-red. It had a wooden porch with a few rocking chairs. The building was surrounded by a gravel parking lot. A few motorcycles were lying on their sides or tangled in big piles. Across the street was an automotive repair shop and used-car lot. Nature had already started to claim the area. Kudzu vines and other assorted vegetation had already started to crawl along the roof-lines of both buildings.
I drove into the bar's parking lot and parked next to a big cruiser motorcycle near the end of the lot. There was just too much debris and wreckage in the parking spaces near the stairs. I backed the scooter in just in case we had to leave in a hurry. Claire and I got off the bike, and took a look around with weapons ready. “Wow. This place looks like a war zone,” Claire said.
“I agree. Looks a little ominous.” It was very quiet. The only sound I could hear was the steady rain hitting the metal roof of the bar.
Claire and I climbed the five rickety steps to the porch and approached the door. Claire took one side, and I took the other. The old wooden door was closed, but it had been kicked open at one time. There was a large boot print on the door near the lock, and the jamb was splintered and broken. Claire started to push the door open, but I held up my hand to stop her. “We better take it easy,” I whispered. “Someone might be inside.” I drew my shotgun, and pushed the door open slowly with the barrel.
The door squeaked loudly as it opened. It sounded a lot like the sound saloon doors make in an old western. I walked into the darkened bar, with Claire behind me. We walked slowly, trying to make the least noise possible. Along the far wall was the bar, with some stools in front. There were all the usual bar decorations; tables and chairs, a jukebox in one corner, and a pool table along the wall to the left. The whole bar was paneled with fake wood painted a dark color. On the walls were pictures of people who I assumed were the owners, or maybe regular patrons. A dartboard hung among the old pictures. The whole place smelled damp and waterlogged. There were candles and glasses everywhere. Bob's Biker Bar had seen a fight or two as well; overturned chairs and tables were scattered on the floor, along with large amounts of broken glass.
“John, got a blood trail over here,” Claire called from the bar area.
I walked over to see what she had found. It was a trail of dried blood that ran from behind the bar to a white door, which I assumed led to an office or storeroom. There were a few bloody hand prints on the door at about doorknob level. I turned the knob and tried to push the door open, but something on the other side was blocking it. I decided not to investigate. The smell that came out when I cracked the door was not good.
I put my shotgun on the bar, and Claire lit a few of the candles. I went behind the bar to check out what was left. “Well, kiddo, it's not exactly a five-star establishment, but it's a place to get out of the rain,” I said, trying to sound hopeful. I rummaged around behind the bar, trying to find anything to drink.
Claire placed her bat next to my shotgun on the bar and grabbed a seat on one of the stools. “Well Tiger, is there anything to drink?”
Searching around under the darkened bar didn't produce much. I found a few empty bottles and broken glasses. After a short search, I managed to find two half-full bottles along with two reasonably clean glasses.
“Well, I found some possible bourbon with no label, and half a bottle of some green stuff that may or may not be antifreeze,” I said, holding the bottles at arm's length.
Claire giggled. “Oh, we have to try the green stuff first.”
I blew the dust out of the glasses and poured in a little of the green fluid. We both took a quick sniff. It smelled a little like rotten apples. “Well,” I said, screwing up my courage, “here goes nothing.” I put the glass to my lips, and took a swig. Claire did the same.
It tasted a little like rotten apples as well.
Claire coughed, and banged her hand on the bar. “Holy crap! That's awful. Let's switch to the other stuff.” I couldn't agree more. I returned the bottle of the horrible green liquid to the shelf under the bar. I opened the bottle of it-might-be-bourbon and poured a little each of the glasses.
I raised my glass. “What should we drink to, Claire?”
She thought for a minute. “How about we drink to Bob, and his crappy bar with the lousy green liquor?”
We clinked our glasses together. “Sounds good. To Bob, and his crappy bar.” Claire and I then took a big swig of the light brown liquid in our glasses. It was definitely better than the green stuff. I think it was bourbon, but it was so watered down it was hard to tell. I guess Bob liked to dilute his liquor.
I poured another round for each of us, and we drank it down. We probably were not going to get wasted on this watered-down brew, but it was definitely warming us up on this gloomy, rainy afternoon. It also gave Claire a case of the giggles, which amused me. We sat at the bar and drank, trying to forget all our troubles. It was actually kind of nice for a change.
Claire took her glass, and walked over to the pool table. “You ever shoot pool, Tiger?”
Most of the pool I played was on my old cell phone. “Not much,” I answered, joining her at the table. “How about you?”
“We had a table at the dorm,” she said, picking up a cue stick. “We'd take study breaks, and shoot a little. None of us were any good.”
“Well, let's see what you got, kid” I found six old billiard balls and the cue. The rack was missing, so I arranged them the best I could in a “V” formation.
“Okay old man. What's the bet?” she said, as she walked to the end of the table.
“How about a million dollars? I'm sure we could scrounge that up in our travels. We'll check out a few banks,” I said with a smile.
Claire broke out into a fit of giggles. “Okay, Tiger, you're on.” She leaned down to size up her first shot. She looked a little like those professional pool players I used to see on the sports channels. I had a strange feeling that I was about to get beat by a girl.
With surprising strength for a girl her size, she sent the cue ball flying. It collided with the other balls and sent them spinning around the table. Claire then began calling her shots. “Six ball, corner.” She sank the ball with ease. She admitted she was rusty after missing her third shot. However, Claire on her worst day was still miles ahead of me. Try as I might, I couldn't sink a single ball. As I failed, Claire taunted me relentlessly.
The drinks had made us loose. We continued playing pool, laughing, and having fun for about an hour or so. Slowly, we began to let our guard down. We started to forget where we were, and what was out there waiting for us. We were making too much noise and attracting attention. We should have been a little more careful. The noise eventually did attract something to our little hideout.
A Yellow-Eye zombie pushed open the creaky door and walked inside.
It was Claire that noticed him first. I was bent down, taking a shot, when I looked up to see her frozen in mid-drink with eyes as wide as saucers staring at something behind me. I was just about to ask what was wrong, when I heard the moan. I turned around to see the Yellow-Eye approaching the pool table.
It was a male that had just begun to go a little skeletal. His lips were gone, and his teeth were exposed in a permanent grimace. He was also pretty mobile and intact. In short, he was a tough customer. He came in close and reached out to grab me.
Claire found her voice. “John, watch out!” she yelled, as she went for our weapons on the bar.
The zombie turned, and made a beeline for Claire. Displaying amazing agility for a walking corpse, he intercepted her at the bar, grabbing her by the arm. He started to pull her in for a bite. I reacted quickly. I hit him with my cue stick, catching him right in the face. The zombie's lower jaw came loose and flew through the air behind the bar. I must have got his attention, because he let go of Claire and turned on me. With his lower jaw missing, his tongue hung out of his mouth like some kind of weird party favor. The only sound he could make was a dreadful hissing noise. He reached out to grab me by the throat.
He started to pull me in closer. The zombie party crasher wasn't going to be able to bite me with no lower jaw, but I guess instinct or hunger made him grab me by the neck. As my face got closer, I could smell and see the remains of meals he had in the past. Meat and dried blood were lodged in his still present upper-jaw. His grip tightened as he anticipated trying to bite into my tasty head. Without thinking, I drew my handgun, stuck it where his lower jaw used to be, and pulled the trigger. His brains redecorated the wall behind the bar.
The monster's grip slowly grew weaker, and he fell to the floor with a sizable hole in his head. I stood over my vanquished enemy breathing hard, like I had just run a marathon. I rubbed my neck where he had grabbed me. Claire touched me on the shoulder and handed me my shotgun. “You okay there, Tiger?”
I was just starting to catch my breath. “I'm fine. Did he hurt you?”
Claire rubbed her shoulder. “He twisted my arm a little bit, so now it hurts. Nothing two weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure.” We both laughed a little.
I heard more groaning coming from outside the bar. “We've got to get out of here.”
“Yeah. I guess the party is over.” She got her bat ready for battle. “Let's go.”
We made our way to the door. Another Yellow-Eye poked his head into the bar to take a look around. Claire caved his skull in with her bat, and he dropped to the ground. I stopped in the doorway and opened the busted door slightly to take a look. About a half-dozen zombies were cruising the lot looking for some living flesh. Several more were coming from across the street towards the bar. Although our scooter was accessible, the path was full of dangerous walking corpses. This was not going to be easy.
I turned to Claire, and gave her some instructions. “Okay. There's a few bad guys out there. We'll make a break for the scooter and get the hell out of here. Just smash anything that gets in your way. I left the keys in the scooter's ignition. If anything happens to me, start it and go. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “Got it. The same for me. If I get caught, just go.”
I didn't want to think about that possibility. “Okay. Ready?” I said, drawing my gun.
We both counted to three, then burst out of the bar. Claire took the lead with bat flying. The first zombie we encountered was a slim female in a hospital gown coming up the stairs. Claire took an upward swing and sent the monster flying to the ground below. I took out a very decomposed male at the bottom of the stairs that was trying to cut us off. Before he even hit the ground, we broke into a fast run to cover the distance to the scooter. We were lucky in one sense. The pouring rain messed with the zombies ability to find us and slowed them down. The weather gave us a bit of an advantage.
Still, there were quite a few baddies walking around. The general ruckus at the bar and the sound of our feet crunching on the wet gravel had attracted a crowd. Several undead were now staggering into the parking lot from the auto service place across the road.
Several of the zombies were a little too close. I watched as Claire eliminated a middle-aged woman with a missing arm. I took out a young male in a fancy suit with a bullet to his head. I turned to see Claire running straight at a zombie-policeman. Her bat was out of position.
“Claire! Duck!” I yelled, as I brought my gun to bear. Without missing a step, she bent slightly at the waist. I pulled the trigger, and hit the zombie in the shoulder. He recoiled a bit, but recovered. I aimed again, and got him right in the head. He dropped almost at Claire's feet.
As we approached the bike, I saw two final zombies blocking our path. One was a male wearing combat boots, and an “Ask Me About My Grandchildren” t-shirt and not much else. The other was a teenage girl with a broken-off metal pole through her abdomen.
“I got the girl!” Claire yelled, as she took off towards the teenage zombie. When she got close enough, she swung the bat to land a killing blow. The dead teenager deftly avoided Claire's swing and turned to do battle. Claire initially lost her balance, but recovered to face her adversary. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to intervene, but Claire finished strong. She struck the teenage walking corpse in the knees, then finished the job with a killing blow to the back of the head.
No-Pants Zombie was a little easier. He was in worse condition than Teenage Girl Zombie, so the only thing he could do was walk around in circles with his arms outstretched. As I got closer, he turned towards me, and began to moan loudly. Thankfully, he was covered in blood and gore from the waist down, so some of his anatomy was at least a little concealed. I stopped, aimed, and fired a quick shot. It hit him in the neck, and he fell to the ground. He started to get up, but I put a bullet through the top of his skull to finish him off.
Claire and I got to the scooter and climbed aboard. Several zombies were closing in on us from all sides. I turned the key to “Run”, and prayed to whatever God was above us that the damn thing would start. I pressed the starter button. The scooter coughed once, then roared to life.
“Go, John, go!” Claire yelled in my ear. She didn't have to tell me twice. I put the kickstand up, and pinned the throttle. We left the parking lot fishtailing and spewing gravel behind us. We hit the road with the rear tire spinning. I pointed the bike up the road towards the crashed tractor-trailer that was lying on its side. Several zombies, perhaps attracted by the sound at the bar, ambled down the road towards us. There were quite a few on the road, but it looked like we could make it through. I would just have to weave around to find a clear path.
Easy as Chinese Algebra.
Claire and I both put our heads down as I pinned the throttle to get through the phalanx of undead. I tore through them at breakneck speed, going from gap to gap. We were too fast for the slow zombies to grab us. Several reached out as we sped past, but I skillfully weaved away so that they would grab nothing but air. I felt like a world-class Grand Prix motorcycle racer as I steered through the rows of undead.
We were going to make it. All we had to do was get past the wrecked truck and the bulk of the zombies on the road. It looked like Claire and I had lucked out again. I zoomed past the wrecked truck, and the zombies began to thin out. I held the bike at full throttle for about another mile, and put the madness of the bar behind us. Soon the zombies disappeared, and the road was clear. ”We made it, Tiger!” I heard Claire yell in my ear.
At that exact moment, a loud noise came from the scooter beneath me. The engine blew.
******************
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Thanks for stopping by. :)
We rode for a while stopping in a few places to find supplies. The wrecked stores and gas stations we stopped at were very empty and picked over. We managed a few bottles of water and maybe a couple packages of crackers. Claire found a few cases of cat and dog food left over in a pet store, but we weren't that desperate yet. We still had about a week or two of food and water between us, so it wasn't time to panic.
As we rode, the weather turned downright nasty. The steady drizzle that had persisted throughout the day turned into a cold rain. After a few miles, Claire and I were cold, wet, and miserable. I had just started to look for a dry place to rest, when I spotted a sign on the side of the road. It was one of those light up signs with the black letters that you could change. As I got closer, I could make out the words “Bob's Biker Bar-1 mi. on right.” I pulled on the brakes, and stopped at the sign.
“Why'd you stop?” Claire asked.
I nodded to the sign. “I was just wondering if you wanted to stop for a drink or two. We can rest and dry up.” I also hoped a drink and a little break would raise her sagging spirit.
Claire started to giggle. “Okay. Sounds good. I could use a drink.”
We rode for about a mile, and indeed Bob's Biker Bar showed up on the right. It looked like a small apocalyptic war had been fought in the parking lot. A pickup truck rested on it's roof in the road in front of the bar. Further up the road, a tractor trailer lay on it's side like a beached whale. A few other wrecked cars and trucks were scattered about on the road and parking lot. Glass and debris was everywhere, along with a few decaying bodies.
It was business as usual.
The bar itself was a small, flat-roofed building painted an obnoxious shade of pinkish-red. It had a wooden porch with a few rocking chairs. The building was surrounded by a gravel parking lot. A few motorcycles were lying on their sides or tangled in big piles. Across the street was an automotive repair shop and used-car lot. Nature had already started to claim the area. Kudzu vines and other assorted vegetation had already started to crawl along the roof-lines of both buildings.
I drove into the bar's parking lot and parked next to a big cruiser motorcycle near the end of the lot. There was just too much debris and wreckage in the parking spaces near the stairs. I backed the scooter in just in case we had to leave in a hurry. Claire and I got off the bike, and took a look around with weapons ready. “Wow. This place looks like a war zone,” Claire said.
“I agree. Looks a little ominous.” It was very quiet. The only sound I could hear was the steady rain hitting the metal roof of the bar.
Claire and I climbed the five rickety steps to the porch and approached the door. Claire took one side, and I took the other. The old wooden door was closed, but it had been kicked open at one time. There was a large boot print on the door near the lock, and the jamb was splintered and broken. Claire started to push the door open, but I held up my hand to stop her. “We better take it easy,” I whispered. “Someone might be inside.” I drew my shotgun, and pushed the door open slowly with the barrel.
The door squeaked loudly as it opened. It sounded a lot like the sound saloon doors make in an old western. I walked into the darkened bar, with Claire behind me. We walked slowly, trying to make the least noise possible. Along the far wall was the bar, with some stools in front. There were all the usual bar decorations; tables and chairs, a jukebox in one corner, and a pool table along the wall to the left. The whole bar was paneled with fake wood painted a dark color. On the walls were pictures of people who I assumed were the owners, or maybe regular patrons. A dartboard hung among the old pictures. The whole place smelled damp and waterlogged. There were candles and glasses everywhere. Bob's Biker Bar had seen a fight or two as well; overturned chairs and tables were scattered on the floor, along with large amounts of broken glass.
“John, got a blood trail over here,” Claire called from the bar area.
I walked over to see what she had found. It was a trail of dried blood that ran from behind the bar to a white door, which I assumed led to an office or storeroom. There were a few bloody hand prints on the door at about doorknob level. I turned the knob and tried to push the door open, but something on the other side was blocking it. I decided not to investigate. The smell that came out when I cracked the door was not good.
I put my shotgun on the bar, and Claire lit a few of the candles. I went behind the bar to check out what was left. “Well, kiddo, it's not exactly a five-star establishment, but it's a place to get out of the rain,” I said, trying to sound hopeful. I rummaged around behind the bar, trying to find anything to drink.
Claire placed her bat next to my shotgun on the bar and grabbed a seat on one of the stools. “Well Tiger, is there anything to drink?”
Searching around under the darkened bar didn't produce much. I found a few empty bottles and broken glasses. After a short search, I managed to find two half-full bottles along with two reasonably clean glasses.
“Well, I found some possible bourbon with no label, and half a bottle of some green stuff that may or may not be antifreeze,” I said, holding the bottles at arm's length.
Claire giggled. “Oh, we have to try the green stuff first.”
I blew the dust out of the glasses and poured in a little of the green fluid. We both took a quick sniff. It smelled a little like rotten apples. “Well,” I said, screwing up my courage, “here goes nothing.” I put the glass to my lips, and took a swig. Claire did the same.
It tasted a little like rotten apples as well.
Claire coughed, and banged her hand on the bar. “Holy crap! That's awful. Let's switch to the other stuff.” I couldn't agree more. I returned the bottle of the horrible green liquid to the shelf under the bar. I opened the bottle of it-might-be-bourbon and poured a little each of the glasses.
I raised my glass. “What should we drink to, Claire?”
She thought for a minute. “How about we drink to Bob, and his crappy bar with the lousy green liquor?”
We clinked our glasses together. “Sounds good. To Bob, and his crappy bar.” Claire and I then took a big swig of the light brown liquid in our glasses. It was definitely better than the green stuff. I think it was bourbon, but it was so watered down it was hard to tell. I guess Bob liked to dilute his liquor.
I poured another round for each of us, and we drank it down. We probably were not going to get wasted on this watered-down brew, but it was definitely warming us up on this gloomy, rainy afternoon. It also gave Claire a case of the giggles, which amused me. We sat at the bar and drank, trying to forget all our troubles. It was actually kind of nice for a change.
Claire took her glass, and walked over to the pool table. “You ever shoot pool, Tiger?”
Most of the pool I played was on my old cell phone. “Not much,” I answered, joining her at the table. “How about you?”
“We had a table at the dorm,” she said, picking up a cue stick. “We'd take study breaks, and shoot a little. None of us were any good.”
“Well, let's see what you got, kid” I found six old billiard balls and the cue. The rack was missing, so I arranged them the best I could in a “V” formation.
“Okay old man. What's the bet?” she said, as she walked to the end of the table.
“How about a million dollars? I'm sure we could scrounge that up in our travels. We'll check out a few banks,” I said with a smile.
Claire broke out into a fit of giggles. “Okay, Tiger, you're on.” She leaned down to size up her first shot. She looked a little like those professional pool players I used to see on the sports channels. I had a strange feeling that I was about to get beat by a girl.
With surprising strength for a girl her size, she sent the cue ball flying. It collided with the other balls and sent them spinning around the table. Claire then began calling her shots. “Six ball, corner.” She sank the ball with ease. She admitted she was rusty after missing her third shot. However, Claire on her worst day was still miles ahead of me. Try as I might, I couldn't sink a single ball. As I failed, Claire taunted me relentlessly.
The drinks had made us loose. We continued playing pool, laughing, and having fun for about an hour or so. Slowly, we began to let our guard down. We started to forget where we were, and what was out there waiting for us. We were making too much noise and attracting attention. We should have been a little more careful. The noise eventually did attract something to our little hideout.
A Yellow-Eye zombie pushed open the creaky door and walked inside.
It was Claire that noticed him first. I was bent down, taking a shot, when I looked up to see her frozen in mid-drink with eyes as wide as saucers staring at something behind me. I was just about to ask what was wrong, when I heard the moan. I turned around to see the Yellow-Eye approaching the pool table.
It was a male that had just begun to go a little skeletal. His lips were gone, and his teeth were exposed in a permanent grimace. He was also pretty mobile and intact. In short, he was a tough customer. He came in close and reached out to grab me.
Claire found her voice. “John, watch out!” she yelled, as she went for our weapons on the bar.
The zombie turned, and made a beeline for Claire. Displaying amazing agility for a walking corpse, he intercepted her at the bar, grabbing her by the arm. He started to pull her in for a bite. I reacted quickly. I hit him with my cue stick, catching him right in the face. The zombie's lower jaw came loose and flew through the air behind the bar. I must have got his attention, because he let go of Claire and turned on me. With his lower jaw missing, his tongue hung out of his mouth like some kind of weird party favor. The only sound he could make was a dreadful hissing noise. He reached out to grab me by the throat.
He started to pull me in closer. The zombie party crasher wasn't going to be able to bite me with no lower jaw, but I guess instinct or hunger made him grab me by the neck. As my face got closer, I could smell and see the remains of meals he had in the past. Meat and dried blood were lodged in his still present upper-jaw. His grip tightened as he anticipated trying to bite into my tasty head. Without thinking, I drew my handgun, stuck it where his lower jaw used to be, and pulled the trigger. His brains redecorated the wall behind the bar.
The monster's grip slowly grew weaker, and he fell to the floor with a sizable hole in his head. I stood over my vanquished enemy breathing hard, like I had just run a marathon. I rubbed my neck where he had grabbed me. Claire touched me on the shoulder and handed me my shotgun. “You okay there, Tiger?”
I was just starting to catch my breath. “I'm fine. Did he hurt you?”
Claire rubbed her shoulder. “He twisted my arm a little bit, so now it hurts. Nothing two weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure.” We both laughed a little.
I heard more groaning coming from outside the bar. “We've got to get out of here.”
“Yeah. I guess the party is over.” She got her bat ready for battle. “Let's go.”
We made our way to the door. Another Yellow-Eye poked his head into the bar to take a look around. Claire caved his skull in with her bat, and he dropped to the ground. I stopped in the doorway and opened the busted door slightly to take a look. About a half-dozen zombies were cruising the lot looking for some living flesh. Several more were coming from across the street towards the bar. Although our scooter was accessible, the path was full of dangerous walking corpses. This was not going to be easy.
I turned to Claire, and gave her some instructions. “Okay. There's a few bad guys out there. We'll make a break for the scooter and get the hell out of here. Just smash anything that gets in your way. I left the keys in the scooter's ignition. If anything happens to me, start it and go. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “Got it. The same for me. If I get caught, just go.”
I didn't want to think about that possibility. “Okay. Ready?” I said, drawing my gun.
We both counted to three, then burst out of the bar. Claire took the lead with bat flying. The first zombie we encountered was a slim female in a hospital gown coming up the stairs. Claire took an upward swing and sent the monster flying to the ground below. I took out a very decomposed male at the bottom of the stairs that was trying to cut us off. Before he even hit the ground, we broke into a fast run to cover the distance to the scooter. We were lucky in one sense. The pouring rain messed with the zombies ability to find us and slowed them down. The weather gave us a bit of an advantage.
Still, there were quite a few baddies walking around. The general ruckus at the bar and the sound of our feet crunching on the wet gravel had attracted a crowd. Several undead were now staggering into the parking lot from the auto service place across the road.
Several of the zombies were a little too close. I watched as Claire eliminated a middle-aged woman with a missing arm. I took out a young male in a fancy suit with a bullet to his head. I turned to see Claire running straight at a zombie-policeman. Her bat was out of position.
“Claire! Duck!” I yelled, as I brought my gun to bear. Without missing a step, she bent slightly at the waist. I pulled the trigger, and hit the zombie in the shoulder. He recoiled a bit, but recovered. I aimed again, and got him right in the head. He dropped almost at Claire's feet.
As we approached the bike, I saw two final zombies blocking our path. One was a male wearing combat boots, and an “Ask Me About My Grandchildren” t-shirt and not much else. The other was a teenage girl with a broken-off metal pole through her abdomen.
“I got the girl!” Claire yelled, as she took off towards the teenage zombie. When she got close enough, she swung the bat to land a killing blow. The dead teenager deftly avoided Claire's swing and turned to do battle. Claire initially lost her balance, but recovered to face her adversary. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to intervene, but Claire finished strong. She struck the teenage walking corpse in the knees, then finished the job with a killing blow to the back of the head.
No-Pants Zombie was a little easier. He was in worse condition than Teenage Girl Zombie, so the only thing he could do was walk around in circles with his arms outstretched. As I got closer, he turned towards me, and began to moan loudly. Thankfully, he was covered in blood and gore from the waist down, so some of his anatomy was at least a little concealed. I stopped, aimed, and fired a quick shot. It hit him in the neck, and he fell to the ground. He started to get up, but I put a bullet through the top of his skull to finish him off.
Claire and I got to the scooter and climbed aboard. Several zombies were closing in on us from all sides. I turned the key to “Run”, and prayed to whatever God was above us that the damn thing would start. I pressed the starter button. The scooter coughed once, then roared to life.
“Go, John, go!” Claire yelled in my ear. She didn't have to tell me twice. I put the kickstand up, and pinned the throttle. We left the parking lot fishtailing and spewing gravel behind us. We hit the road with the rear tire spinning. I pointed the bike up the road towards the crashed tractor-trailer that was lying on its side. Several zombies, perhaps attracted by the sound at the bar, ambled down the road towards us. There were quite a few on the road, but it looked like we could make it through. I would just have to weave around to find a clear path.
Easy as Chinese Algebra.
Claire and I both put our heads down as I pinned the throttle to get through the phalanx of undead. I tore through them at breakneck speed, going from gap to gap. We were too fast for the slow zombies to grab us. Several reached out as we sped past, but I skillfully weaved away so that they would grab nothing but air. I felt like a world-class Grand Prix motorcycle racer as I steered through the rows of undead.
We were going to make it. All we had to do was get past the wrecked truck and the bulk of the zombies on the road. It looked like Claire and I had lucked out again. I zoomed past the wrecked truck, and the zombies began to thin out. I held the bike at full throttle for about another mile, and put the madness of the bar behind us. Soon the zombies disappeared, and the road was clear. ”We made it, Tiger!” I heard Claire yell in my ear.
At that exact moment, a loud noise came from the scooter beneath me. The engine blew.
******************
Available for sale at the following:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
CreateSpace (Paperback)https://www.createspace.com/4307201
DriveThruFiction: http://www.drivethrufiction.com/produ...
NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/somet...
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/eboo...
Leanpub: https://leanpub.com/SometimesWeRan
Libiro: http://www.libiro.com/index.php?route...
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id65...
Scribd: http://www.scribd.com/book/230611071/...
Inktera: http://www.inktera.com/store/title/c0...
Thanks for stopping by. :)
80 copies
Sometimes We Ran just sold it's 80th copy.
It's a small milestone, but I'll take it. I'm glad some people out there in e-book and paperback land are enjoying my work.
About those paperbacks. Sometimes We Ran (or SWR, as I like to call it) is available in print form at CreateSpace and DriveThruFiction. I've got to tell you: holding a physical book that you have written is sort of an emotional experience. It's weird seeing your name on the cover, and your words flash by as you flip the pages.:) I even have two different covers: "CreateSpace Yellow", and "DriveThruFiction Black".:)
Till next time.
It's a small milestone, but I'll take it. I'm glad some people out there in e-book and paperback land are enjoying my work.
About those paperbacks. Sometimes We Ran (or SWR, as I like to call it) is available in print form at CreateSpace and DriveThruFiction. I've got to tell you: holding a physical book that you have written is sort of an emotional experience. It's weird seeing your name on the cover, and your words flash by as you flip the pages.:) I even have two different covers: "CreateSpace Yellow", and "DriveThruFiction Black".:)
Till next time.
"Where can I buy your book?"
People sometimes ask me where they can buy my book. After they ask, I usually stand there stammering like an idiot while I try to remember the particular link they need.
So here's a little list with a some commentary:
Amazon(Kindle): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
Lets start with the biggie. Amazon is not fooling around with this book selling thing! 80% of sales are here. There is also a link to the paperback.
DriveThruFiction: http://www.drivethrufiction.com/produ...
I have a few sales here. Pretty neat site. I didn't see the "Activate Product" button for a few weeks, so SWR didn't even go up for sale for a while.(D'oh!). I have a paperback here as well, with a cool, black cover
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/somet...
Not much action here. I sold one in July. I think it will take a little more time.
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/eboo...
I have a ranking here, but no sales as yet. More time needed here as well.
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id65...
I'm on Apple as well. No sales yet, but I'm hopeful some fans will find me.
Leanpub: http://Leanpub.com/SometimesWeRan
Where it all started. Leanpub created all my files, and did a great job. They also have a nice little storefront.
So you see, I think I have achieved full market penetration. I like the shotgun approach.:)
So here's a little list with a some commentary:
Amazon(Kindle): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
Lets start with the biggie. Amazon is not fooling around with this book selling thing! 80% of sales are here. There is also a link to the paperback.
DriveThruFiction: http://www.drivethrufiction.com/produ...
I have a few sales here. Pretty neat site. I didn't see the "Activate Product" button for a few weeks, so SWR didn't even go up for sale for a while.(D'oh!). I have a paperback here as well, with a cool, black cover
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/somet...
Not much action here. I sold one in July. I think it will take a little more time.
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/eboo...
I have a ranking here, but no sales as yet. More time needed here as well.
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id65...
I'm on Apple as well. No sales yet, but I'm hopeful some fans will find me.
Leanpub: http://Leanpub.com/SometimesWeRan
Where it all started. Leanpub created all my files, and did a great job. They also have a nice little storefront.
So you see, I think I have achieved full market penetration. I like the shotgun approach.:)
Shameless Self Promotion
Sometimes We Ran: A Story from the Zombie Apocalypse has been published for 90 days.
90 days ...Not a whole lot of time in the grand scheme of things. However, I feel like celebrating. So everyone don your party hats. Sometimes We Ran is now on sale for the low, low incredible price of $1.99. That's right ...you save a dollar. It's available for Kindle and NOOK.
But you better hurry. The sale ends Monday 8/26.
Shameless promotion ...done.:)
90 days ...Not a whole lot of time in the grand scheme of things. However, I feel like celebrating. So everyone don your party hats. Sometimes We Ran is now on sale for the low, low incredible price of $1.99. That's right ...you save a dollar. It's available for Kindle and NOOK.
But you better hurry. The sale ends Monday 8/26.
Shameless promotion ...done.:)
It's October ....Time for a Halloween Zombie Ebook Sale.
Well, I guess it's close to October.
Halloween is coming up, so I decided to hold a little sale - Sometimes We Ran will be marked down to 99c for the month of October! You can pick up a copy where all ebooks are sold - Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, and DriveThruFiction.com.
Speaking of Kobo, I finally sold a book in the Kobo store! Whoever you are who bought my book ...Thanks!:)
Till next time. Happy Halloween all you zombie lovers.
Halloween is coming up, so I decided to hold a little sale - Sometimes We Ran will be marked down to 99c for the month of October! You can pick up a copy where all ebooks are sold - Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, and DriveThruFiction.com.
Speaking of Kobo, I finally sold a book in the Kobo store! Whoever you are who bought my book ...Thanks!:)
Till next time. Happy Halloween all you zombie lovers.
