As the combatants cease their aggression, the survivors begin to carry out their plans to escape the city, and search for a safer place… #podcast #horrorpodcast #newepisode #listennow
The Second Alabama Island episode in the America the Dead series. Glennville is a small city located in the northern area of the state of New York. The earthquakes were not as devastating there as some places, but the loss of life is still enormous. This episode focuses on the main characters who have not yet found one another, and the trials they have been through in the first days…
Premiers Jan 21, 2020 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4mbi_UFDyo
For the first time since the events that nearly destroyed the world, the survivors are able to breath easier. Take time to repair the trucks, and get to know other survivors better. a hunting trip brings fresh meat, fresh meat attracts something else they did not expect…
The Nation Chronicles
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In the Elk Mountain overpass. Joe managed to winch two of the cars out of the way, and together they had pushed the third off the roadway and over the steep rocky embankment.They had both watched as the car careened down the side …
They left the truck beside the stalled traffic, and walked through and around the cars to the large shop. They spent the better part of the afternoon outfitting themselves from the racks in the shop and carrying what they needed across the road to the truck. The pickup had a black vinyl bed cover. They opened it, stored the tent and the sleeping bags along with the other camping gear inside it, and then snapped the cover back into place.
“It probably won’t keep everything totally dry,” Joe said, “if it rains, I mean. This is kind of more for show than actual protection,” he said indicating the cover. “But, it should still do all right.”
They had both picked up weapons in the shop. Joe had picked out a deer rifle, a fairly impressive looking Remington. He had also picked up several boxes of the ammunition the rifle took. Arlene had settled on an entirely different sort of weapon. It looked more like a machine gun of some sort to Joe, and she also picked up several boxes of ammunition for it, and several spare clips. She explained to him that it really wasn’t a rifle, but a machine pistol, and that it could fire better than seventy rounds a second if it were converted to full automatic. This one wasn’t she said, but she had seen some that were. To Joe it still looked like a machine gun, and he joked that the sight of it alone would probably scare anyone off.
By the time they had loaded the truck and gotten under way it was late afternoon. Even with the late start, and the slow going due to the traffic, they managed to make it to Lake Easton in the Snoqualmie National Forest preserve, before night-fall.
The elevation had been rising all day as they climbed through first the foothills, and then the mountains of the Cascade Range.
Joe angled the truck off to the side of the grassy median they had been traveling, and followed a dirt road into the heavily forested park area. About a half mile in they came to a wide calm lake. The area was completely deserted. No cars, no trucks, and only a few empty, rustic buildings close by the water. They worked together to gather some dead-fall to build a small fire.
STOP! This material is NOT edited for content. It is not fiction. It contains explicit language and descriptions of real situations. It is not suitable for minors, and may not be suitable for people who easily disturbed…
One time the four of us who worked in the carpentry shop were waiting for our C.O. To pick us up. It was after lunch, the mess hall workers were stripping floors so we had to sit on this bench on the other side of the steel gates that lead into the mess hall waiting for him.
So we’re sitting there talking with each other about dumb stuff, we’re in prison, there isn’t a lot to talk about. I don’t remember who stopped talking first, one of us did, so we all looked to see why, and of course that means looking down the long hall to see what there is to see because if there is anything to see, like a fight, or something, it will be coming from that way. I look up and I see this woman walking down the hallway: Built, and putting a lot into her walk. We all stopped talking and stared. One guy even said some dumb shit like, “Wow, she’s hot.” Then we all sort of remember at the same time that we’re in prison and she is wearing greens just like us, therefore she is really he. We all sort of choked at the same time. The guy just smiled and winked, he liked that he was noticed. It was fucked up for real.
Another time I went into the shower. The shower in prison is a no talking zone for men. Sex goes on there, alcohol, drugs get smoked, shot up or whatever. They like the constant steam and the vents that draw it outside. No alcohol fumes, pot smoke smell, etc.. We shower in our underwear, boxer shorts. You wear boxers, if you don’t it means you are putting your shit on display by wearing tighty whities, the name for briefs. Some men have special shower boxers they have made, one pair inside another pair so that even when they are wet they can’t be seen through. If a man is showering naked he is either new and doesn’t know the rules, or he is fishing. Either way he is going to get stepped to and told there is no nude showering. The only time there is a change in that is when you have a significant percentage of men who want to, for whatever reason, shower nude. Then they will set an hour aside for nude showering. They all have to shower in that hour. No one else goes in during that time.
You don’t stare at anything you might see and you don’t talk unless you are in there with someone you know really well, even then it might be misconstrued by someone else. So you go in, ignore everything as best you can, and leave. I was kind of new, I knew the rules, but I hadn’t had a lot happen yet so I was green. Anyway, this guy’s back is to me, that’s cool, but then he turns around and he is surgically altered, he has breasts. I got used to that after a while, but the first few times were hard to handle.
I used to workout with this really big dude who had a saying, ‘Defense Mode On’. The first time he said it we were walking back from the weight shack and he said it out loud. It made me look up, and when I did here come these two asshole gang-bangers that I had seen around the prison and knew were trouble. What it meant was he had beef with them, so it was his way of saying, I’m going to try to hold it together and it might work or it might not, but with him it almost always worked when he just said those words. I adopted it. I thought it had value. To me it means I can do this if I have to, but I don’t have to: Defense Mode On.
Now I see the value in fitting into society. It doesn’t mean I have to agree with a lot of what society is, but I value rules, organization. I spent over 10 years in prison, it was enough. I can and do play by the rules.
The Nation Chronicles
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For several miles before they reached and successfully passed around and beyond the city of Rock Springs, black oily smoke had hung over them in the sky. …
The vacation he had planned was a three week camp out in the State Forest Preserve that started only twenty miles to the east. The preserve was nestled up to the military reservation and stretched from there all the way into Central New York. Mike had no idea exactly where he would camp. He had decided to just hike until he found a spot that suited him.
As he headed for the bathroom he noticed that the clock on the dresser was off. Not blinking, but off, and he could vaguely recall dreaming of waking during the night to some loud noise.
It had seemed at first, when he had awakened within the dream, as though the entire house had been shaking. He had passed from that dream into another, but the noise and the shaking had seemed to accompany him into that dream as well. It had to have been the strangest dream he could ever recall having.
At first he had been in the house and the walls had been shaking around him, and the next thing he knew he had been standing in a field with thousands of other people.
When he had spotted Johnny Barnes in the crowd, he had walked over and tried to talk to him, but the dream Johnny had acted as though he hadn’t heard him. Then he had been back in bed in his own house on Linden Street, talking to a priest that was sitting on the edge of the bed.
The priest had been telling him that he had a choice to make. Mike wasn’t sure what the choice had been, but could remember telling the man that he didn’t want to choose anything. That he just wanted to go back to sleep. That had apparently satisfied the priest, as he had shook his head and seemed to float away.
Mike shook his head, recalling the dream as he entered the bathroom. He picked up his toothbrush from the small plastic cup that held it, squinted into the mirror, and turned on the cold water tap.
“What the hell,” Mike said aloud, “frigging water out too?” He dropped the brush back into the cup and headed into the kitchen to start the coffee.
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
This is copyrighted material
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.
America the Dead Episode 22: Check out this free Podcast from author Dell Sweet… #HorrorPodcast #Free #AmericaTheDead
The first days of the battle see large loses for the opposition, and because of their infighting the survivors have thus far escaped serious injury, and have taken the time to formulate a plan of their own…