This is the audio only version of the America the Dead podcast… Episode 18
This is the audio only version of the America the Dead podcast… Episode 16
Small bands of survivors are joining together, making their way across the devastation of America…
The morning turned to early afternoon before the four trucks pulled up out of the field together, followed the service roadway back onto route 3 and headed toward Clifton. Cammy studied a map as Bear drove.
“It’s hard to believe this is as far as we have got in over a month together,” she said as she studied the map.
“We had no real direction,” Bear supplied. “It’s not like we had decided on a place and headed toward it.” Bear watched the sides of the road. They were traveling along at less than twenty miles an hour, weaving down into the median, and off onto the service roads that paralleled the highway when they had too.
There were too many cars abandoned next to the road, in the road, even across the road, to be able to keep track of all of them at one time. A large mall came up on the right and Bear slowed at the interchange to look it over. Billy’s truck rolled up, the window dropped and Beth leaned out.
“Looks okay,” she said, breaking the silence of the quiet afternoon.
“Except it’s quiet,” Bear agreed. “That’s always been bad news.”
Beth held up her machine pistol. “We need what we need.”
Bear nodded. “Let’s go then… We stay together though.”
Beth nodded, Billy shifted back into drive and waited for Bear to pull away. He pulled in behind him and followed.
There was a thick line of trees behind the shops that Bear didn’t like. It seemed like the perfect place for the dead to hide away. He drove slowly into the first Mall area, past the trees and into the second lot. The trees were not as thick up close, but he could still not see through them, and it bothered him. Anything, or one, could be hidden within them. He turned the truck and pointed it back toward the entrance road and shut it down.
Billy, and then Mac, pulled down, turned around, and stopped next to Bear’s truck. They shut down too and the ticking of cooling motors filled the silence of the parking lot. Bear looked around the lot, but saw nothing that seemed out of place.
Abandoned cars and trucks. The front doors to a discount store were shattered, the aluminum frames twisted, pushed open wide and pinned against the faux brick front with carts. Bear had left the windows up. He didn’t like the idea of having to start the truck to roll them back up. It was better to roll them up before he shut down. He levered the door open, and stepped down to the pavement. Beside him, Billy, Beth, and Mac stepped out of their own vehicles too. The doors chuffed closed, and the silence came back heavy.
Bear scanned the parking lot but saw nothing. He looked over at Beth. She shrugged and looked back over at the wood line Bear turned away and started toward the shattered front entrance, the others fell in behind him.
The front of the store was destroyed. They stayed together, walking aisle to aisle looking for the dead.
The smell had hit all of them when they crossed the threshold into the store. The dead were there: Where they did not know. They walked slowly forward into the huge building. Silent. Safeties off their rifles, waiting.
Earth’s Survivors Home in the Valley: The front of the store was destroyed. They stayed together, walking aisle to aisle looking for the dead: Safeties off their rifles, waiting.
Lilly ~ March 20th I decided to write this for the baby. Tom knows, and he’s okay with it. It must have happened with David just before all of this happened. I don’t even know how I feel about it completely yet, but it’s a baby. A baby needs a home, security. I talked to Tom about that. My baby will have a safe home, Tom said so. I guess Tom was with Lydia before. I hear others make comments, mention her name. She looked like me. Tom says only a little. I say it doesn’t matter, not really. He’s with me now. He says he loves me. I believe that. He knows about the baby. He says he won’t leave me; what more is there to need, or ask for? I just don’t want my baby to be unneeded or unloved, abandoned like I was. I know how that feels. I don’t know about Lydia. I’m sorry she was killed. So much has happened. I’ve seen people killed right in front of me. I guess I need therapy… That’s supposed to be a joke… Not a good joke, I guess. We’ve all seen a lot, but there are no shrinks left to talk to. Another poor joke, I have a million of them, all stupid. I guess the real stuff is Christ. Christ is what gets me by. Christ is what I believe in. Christ is who will help me to take care of my baby. I mean, if there ever was a time to lean on Christ wouldn’t it be now? I was not religious before this happened. I didn’t go to church. And I’m not religious now, not really. I simply believe in Christ. That’s a belief, not a religion. A belief can last, religion fails sometimes, and I can’t afford to be part of a failure. I need absolute. I need something sure. I need belief, and that’s what I have. Don’t get the idea that I’m fanatical, I’m not. I guess if we’re keeping this for the children then this will be for you, my baby, my girl, my boy, someone who I have not yet met. That gets so deep. I don’t want you to misunderstand who I am or what I believe in. Eventually there will be all this space between us and this night when I sat down, thought about you, how much I love you before I have even met you, and how I want things to be for you. I know things will not be as I see them. I know that time changes everything so easily. I just want you to see who I am right now. Not a crazy; not a fanatic. I am just a young woman who believes that all that is left is Christ to see us through. I’m going to tell Sandy about the baby. Tom agreed. She’s a nurse. She knows things, and I’m a little afraid of how it will be. We are going to leave April 1st. That’s not long. I can’t wait, really. Nothing, almost, nothing good has happened here except the baby and Tom. I don’t mind going… As of this coming Monday, there will be 15 FREE episodes you can watch/listen to on YouTube, Dell…
Last night we routed out three hundred of the dead… Burned them in a pit, lost 3 of our own, Conner. #Dystopian
Earth’s Survivors SE 5 brings together book Six, Watertown, and book seven, World Order from the earth’s Survivors series in one volume. From the theft of the virus from a top secret facility to the births of The Nation’s first babies to the formation of The Fold and how it came to be.
Book six tells the story leading up to the Apocalypse. That tale includes the story of Billy Jingo, Alice Tetto, Major Weston’s private secretary. Ben Neo and Jimmy West, hired Killers, and a drug deal designed to hide the transfer of a top secret drug stolen from the Underground Bluechip facility, that goes very wrong. Set in the days leading up to the catastrophe that ends the world as we know it, Watertown is a hardcore ride through a world few would want to live in, but the world it leaves behind is somehow even worse than the one it helped to take away…
Book seven steps back to the beginning of the catastrophe to bring you the story of the Fold; Jessie Stone and why and how Snoqualmie settlement came to be. It begins in present time in the Nation and then falls back to just a few days after Watertown ends and the beginning of the Apocalypse. The Fold becomes the biggest challenge to the Nations power. The community that can force the Nation into compromise, or bring a war that may destroy both societies.
Both stories in their entirety in one volume…
The first book rushes to its conclusion, with the survivors coming together, making their collective decision, and carrying out their plans… #HorrorPodcast #AmiAdams #YouTube #DellSweet
Somebody with money and he could call the night good. Just enough to get a good high… Or enough to get enough shit to get a good high tonight and maybe a good high tomorrow when it all wore off and the jingle jangles set in? … Maybe, he decided.
The Nation Chronicles
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The scarred wooden door had been crossed and bound securely by black iron strapping, and a huge forged lock had been set securely into its face. As Ira had watched, the lock seemed to explode from some unseen force. The iron strapping had burst apart, and spun viciously down into the still draining molten rock, hissing as it touched the surface.
The two men who now stood before them, had dragged the foul smelling man-like creature out of the darkness the door had revealed, and the level of the hot liquid below had suddenly risen, and had begun to cascade down into the now open doorway, enveloping whatever lay within.
The man-creature struggled to free itself.
“Stop!” the older man commanded. “There is no longer any reason.”
The man-creature opened its mouth and pursed its lips as if to spit, and Ira turned his head from the squirming mass of snakes that tried to push through the small opening.
Greenish bile flew from the creature’s mouth as it spoke, and, although the language was unfamiliar to Ira, the intent was clear.
The older man’s face clouded over, and he raised his hand toward the screaming thing that was still being restrained.
The flesh of the man-creatures face seemed to boil as new pinkish-looking skin formed, appearing from nowhere, and sealed its mouth completely shut. Ira could still see the snakes behind this newly formed tissue, twisting and turning, as they tested the strength of the enclosure.
The green eyes of the man-creatures face burned momentarily, as if with fire, and the muscles in its body bunched, in an effort to loose itself from the two formidable men who held it.
The older man stood calmly beside Ira, and waited for the struggles to subside. When they had, he spoke.
“You will listen,” he said, and then paused before continuing.
“But of course I have forgotten myself; you do have a choice…”
“…Do you choose not to listen?”
The man-creature slowly shook its head back and forth from side to side.
“Bring him here and release him,” the older man commanded the two men, who were still holding the man-creature they had dragged from the pit behind the old door.
Pearl (Pearly) Bloodworth
The streets were clogged with snow, but the sidewalks were impassable, so she had no choice but to walk in the street.
She made her way carefully, slipping and sliding as she went. It was just before 6:30 P.M. and she might make it to work on time if she could make the next two blocks without incident.
She had been working at the downtown mission for the last several months: The night shift for the last two months. The mission night shift was an easy shift. Everything was closed down. Those who had made the curfew were locked in for the night. Occasionally there would be a little trouble between residents, but that was rare. Glennville was small, as a consequence the homeless population was small. And trouble, when it came, was usually settled long before her shift. Her shift amounted to catching up on paperwork, dispensing an aspirin or two, and being there if there was an emergency of any kind. At 4:00 A.M. The kitchen staff would be there to start their day. Shortly after that the rest of the day-shift would be in. At 6:00 A.M. The mission doors would open and the homeless would take to the streets. She would have an hour of quiet at the end of her shift, sitting and listening to the bustle from the kitchen as they cleaned up after breakfast and began to prepare for lunch.
She heard the approaching vehicle as she was stepping around a mound of melting snow and ice. It was late and there had been no traffic on this side street when she had stepped into the street at the cross walk three blocks down. The alternative was the foot deep snow and ice thrown onto the sidewalk from the plows. She would never get through that and make it to the mission on time.
The Mission was on upper Franklin street, a short walk in a straight line, or even if you had to walk around the square and start up, as she usually did, but tonight the square was packed with traffic and so she had chosen the shortcut instead. Unfortunately it was not well lit: A four block wasteland of parking lots and alleyways.
She had almost turned completely around to make sure the car had seen her when the horn blared and startled her. A second later she finished the turn, hand clasped to her throat, and watched as the car skidded to a stop and three men piled out of the back seat slipping and sliding in the slush, laughing.
“What’s up, bitch,” one asked as he found his feet and stood staring her down. The laughter died away.
“Nice ass,” another said as he moved toward her.
She turned to the second man, the one who had just spoken, as she shrugged her purse from her shoulder, caught the bottom of it in one hand, and slipped her other hand inside. The third man, really just a boy, looked frightened as his eyes slipped from his two companions and then flitted to her. The driver leaned out the window,
“What the fuck! Get the bitch!” He was looking over the roof-line, sitting on the windowsill of the driver’s door, a smirk on his too-white face.
“Yeah… How about a ride, baby,” the nearest one said. The other had finally found his feet, stopped slipping, and was skidding his feet across the slush heading in her direction. She pulled her hand from her pocket and aimed the mace canister at them. They both skidded to a stop.
The closer one, the one that had made the remark about her ass, cocked his head sideways, shrugged his shoulders and then pulled a gun from his waist band. “Yeah… Kind of changes the whole situation, don’t it?” He asked.
“Roux! Don’t shoot the bitch. She’s no good to us dead!” This from the man-boy leaning out the window of the car.