Zombie Book 1: Origins. I still feel human: If it made changes to me, they are very small changes… But the dead. Oh, the dead, that is a different story. It did something else to the dead. #Apocalyptic #Readers #Amazon #Kindle #BookLovers #Horror
Zombie: Book 2. The Farm.
The dead were all around, pulled from their wanderings by the sound of the wreck and the smell of the living. #Zombie #AvidReaders #ApocalypticFiction #Horror #BookLover #Kindle #Amazon
Zombie: Book 3. Mission Zero. The Core of the Zombie Killer crew is forming. They leave New York for good, looking for other survivors, looking for the dead… #Zombie #Apocalyptic #Horror #Kindle #Paperback #Readers #BookLovers
The end has come for the Earth. The forces of nature have aligned, echoing the cataclysms of the past, and a devastating event looms, one that will leave only a fraction of humanity.
As the clock ticks down for our planet and her inhabitants, powers that have lain dormant for centuries are loosed on the Earth. #Horror #Kindle #Amazon #Biblical #Christian #Fiction
My hand is cramping, but I am almost finished. The dead are quiet right now. Quiet as in, not scratching, not trying to get in. #Zombie #Horror #Kindle #Amazon
eBook Sparrow Spirit – Fantasy “We settled into the sweat lodge and Benjamin began to tell me the legend of the Dreamer’s Way… What came to be known as the legend of the Sparrow.”
The end has come for most of the world’s population. Small groups of survivors are picking up the pieces… Learning to live again…
When the sun began to peek over the top of the ridge on the opposite shore of the Black River, everyone filed out to the two remaining trucks. It had been decided that Mike and Jan would stay behind while the others went in search of the stolen truck. They switched on and tested two sets of F.M. radios.
Earth’s Survivors Apocalypse follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely, hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive.
Bear squatted and peered down at the girl and the boy for a few moments before he spoke again. “What do you think of her hand?”
Beth squatted beside him and looked down at the girl. She stood and shook her head. “I can’t tell. It looks like she’s turning. Turns black, you know, but just under the skin… like… like a spiderweb flowing out under their skin. Bad description, I know,” she finished.
The sun, a weak, watery orb, struggled to pierce the perpetual gloom of the junkyard. Its rays, filtered through the grimy haze of industrial decay and the skeletal remains of rusted cars, cast long, distorted shadows that danced with the shuffling figures of the undead. This was their sanctuary, a chaotic landscape of twisted metal, shattered glass, and the lingering stench of decay – their home.
The rusty hinges of the dilapidated shack groaned a mournful protest as Bear pushed open the door, the scent of damp earth and decay clinging to the air like a shroud. Inside, Winston lay huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, his breathing shallow and ragged.
“Beth!” Billy screamed from behind her. “Right. Your right!” She had been just about to fire at the two zombies attacking Mac, and so even as she turned, she did not turn her pistol completely, but kept it aimed to the front towards Mac and the two zombies. By the time she registered how close the three zombies were to her, there was no time to turn the pistol and fire.
There were four of them outside the vehicles talking or keeping watch on the parking lot. Bear and Beth, Mac and Billy. When the first one dropped, Billy spun around and clubbed it to the ground. But the rest came so fast that they could not hope to easily and quickly pick them off.
A crash came to his ears, but he could not tell if it was from the downstairs hallway. At least he hoped it was the downstairs hallway, not the stairs outside of their apartment, or, God forbid, even closer. He jumped from the tangle of blankets, started to pull his shoes on, and then reached for his machine pistol instead as another noise came from the hallway.
Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by. The police precinct was still burning. It had started sometime during the night two days before, and since there was no one to put the fire out, it had been raging for hours now. A few minutes ago, the roof of the building next door to the precinct burst into flames.
The Nation Collection contains the first four books in one volume. Follow the survivors as they struggle to survive in a vastly changed world, where the living are just as likely to kill you as the dead are.
They navigated a maze of shattered streets, the buildings looming over them like skeletal giants. The air vibrated with a low, guttural hum…
The Nation Collection Two contains the final four books in The Nation series in one volume.
The initial reaction was instinctual – fear and suspicion. But as they crept closer, the fear began to give way to a cautious curiosity. The group in the cellar was clearly as desperate as they were, as weary and worn as they felt…
Before Candace could speculate, a low, guttural growl echoed from the far end of the depot, followed by the distinct sound of heavy boots crunching on gravel. It was a sound of human origin, but there was an aggression to it, a territoriality that sent a prickle of alarm through Candace. “Someone else,” Elara whispered, her hand tightening on her pipe. Candace nodded, her gaze fixed on the source of the sound. “And they don’t sound friendly.” She could see them now – a group of figures emerging from the gloom, their silhouettes indistinct against the muted light. They were armed, their weapons glinting dully. Their movements were coordinated, purposeful, suggesting a trained unit rather than a disorganized band of scavengers. #Dystopian #Apocalyptic #Epic #Survival #Amazon #Kindle #KU #Horror
The collapse had been a swift, brutal amputation. The surge, a cataclysmic event that had not only silenced our digital world but had also plunged vast swathes of the planet into darkness and disarray. The immediate aftermath had been a blur of panic, of desperate attempts to comprehend the incomprehensible. The abstract threats of cyber warfare or economic collapse had been replaced by the terrifyingly concrete realities of starvation, disease, and the primal struggle for survival. In the early days, the focus had been singular: survive. Find food, find water, find shelter. My technical skills, so vital in the old world, were largely useless. I learned to scavenge, to ration, to move with a stealth born of necessity. I learned the silence of the wilderness, the language of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. But survival, I was discovering, was not an end in itself. It was a means to an end, a precarious foundation upon which something more must be built. It was a recognition that to truly survive, I needed to do more than just exist; I needed to be.
