Showing posts with label the reaping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the reaping. Show all posts

Legion of the Damned Excerpt

Here's another little taste of Legion of the Damned, coming May 31, 2017. It's currently available as a pre-order at the low price of $.99 that will go up to  $2.99 the day after release. I've also lowered the prices of book 1, All Roads Lead to Terror, and book 2 The Reaping, to celebrate. You can grab all three for less than three bucks using the links above. . 
There has been a slight change to the cover to bring it in line with the story inside. Today's excerpt will make that perfectly clear, and I hope intrigue you enough to reserve your copy today.





Excerpt

As night approached and the shadows grew long the children gathered around a single fire as David stood before them. Meat and Einstein had become outsiders.

“Do you believe?” David said as he gazed at the faces gathered before him.

“Yes,” they whispered in response, hands clasped before their chests as they watched David with rapt attention.

“Do you believe with all your heart that God lives in each of us?”

“Yes,” they answered with more assurance as David moved back and forth in front of the fire, pointing at them as he spoke.

“He said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”

“Amen,” the children whispered.

Meat was reminded of the service he’d attended when he was younger, the preacher moving back and forth across the stage as he whipped up the emotions of those attending. Smoke and mirrors, he had thought then, but after his experience in Richmond where he'd learned belief could be a powerful weapon, it was with just a touch of unease that he watched David.

“What are they doing?” Einstein said, and Meat held up his hand to quiet him. There was no sense drawing attention to them, not now.

“Let us pray,” David said as he bowed his head and the others followed suit.

“Father, we stand before you, a lost flock without its shepherd. Taken from us by a world that has closed its mind and its heart to the glory that is your love. We are without hope, lost upon a sea of unease. Will you lead us to our rightful home? Will you guide us in the task we have undertaken? Amen.” David finished and lifted his head to look at the faces that turned up to meet his gaze.

“Amen,” the children responded dutifully.

“Jesus said. ‘So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets. “

“Amen,” the children answered in a growing voice that threatened the stillness of the darkening forest.

“Do we remember what Jesus said in Matthews twenty-six when Peter drew his sword as the Romans came to take him?”

“What did he say?” the children asked their combined voice a shout of righteous anger that stirred the short hairs on the nape of Meat’s neck.

“Put your sword back in its place,’ Jesus said to him, ‘for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.’ Our enemies have chosen to live by the sword, and so they shall perish by the sword.”

“Amen,” the children shouted and David leaned forward with one hand cupping his ear. He had them now, they’d follow him to hell itself if he asked, and what they planned to do was not far from it.

“Amen,” they repeated, louder this time, their voices carrying more conviction than before.

“I can’t hear you,” David said as he leaned over with a smile, his hand still next to his ear.

“Amen,” they screamed in a single voice that rocked the stillness of the forest around them.

“Jesus said, ‘Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?”

“Amen,” came the shout on cue, even louder than before as the children warmed up to David’s preaching.

“Are we not Father Henry’s legion of angels?”

Again their shout rocked the forest and David drank long and deep of the conviction that rolled off the assembled children. They had achieved a symbiotic relationship with one another, one feeding on the other, fueling their anger, their conviction, their belief

“But we failed him,” David said as he took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. A feeling of quiet discomfort spread through Meat’s stomach as the gathered children groaned in response to David’s comment.

“I don’t like this,” Meat said.

“He’s just talking to them.”

“That’s the way it always starts, with just talk, I imagine that’s the way it began in Richmond.”

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t understand.”

“I know, but had you been you would. It was like,” and Meat paused as he sought out the word to best describe the feelings that were coming to him from the gathered children. Fanatical came to mind, but he felt that was too strong, it was something much more subtle. Loss, confusion, they were close, but not quite right.

“They had been taught from the Bible, but somewhere along the way it had become garbled, mixed up with other things that made little sense,” Meat said, trying his best to put his finger on the problem.

“We, his legion of angels, have failed our father,” David said in a near whisper as several cries of anguish rose from the gathered children.

“What can we do?” One of them cried out.

“Yes, what can we do?” another took up the call.

Soon they were all asking the same question, their voices rising in volume as the night slowly descended around them.

“We must pay penance for our failure,” David said and turned away from the crowd. He did something none of them could see. When he turned back, a black cross bisected his face. The upright started at the hairline of his forehead and followed the line of his nose, ending at the tip. The cross member made him look like he had a unibrow, following the line of the ridge above his eyes.

“We must take vengeance on those who have wronged us for they have chosen to live by the sword, and now they must die by the sword. Who will take penance with me?”

Hands shot up throughout the crowd as a babble of voices rose up through the trees. All repeating the same thing. “me, me, me, me,” they said, and if a god existed within the low gray clouds that hugged the earth, he would have surely heard the anger in their voices.

“We will become Father Henry’s legion of angels, and we will bring death to his enemies. For we are the lost legion, we are, the legion of the damned.”

End Excerpt


Synopsis:

Hell was coming to Paradise!


In a remote desert world that bore little semblance to their own, the boys corner and kill Nickoli. Unfortunately the act fails to release Window from his curse, and they discover that a much higher sacrifice must be made to free him.

Struggling to silence the voices from his past, Billie-Bob’s drinking results in his capture by the family of cannibals he once escaped from. This time he is taken to Paradise, a small compound along one of the many tributaries leading to the Chesapeake Bay. For those who lived there it was truly a paradise on earth, for its captives it was a different story as they were reduced to nothing more than livestock to feed a growing population.

While following the trail left by Billie-Bob’s captors, Meat, Window and Einstein come upon the shattered remnants of the church that had given them shelter on their trek north. Many of the church’s inhabitants had perished in the attack, but most of the children had been able to escape. They join the boys on their journey south to rescue Billie-Bob, and exact their vengeance on those who had shattered their peaceful existence.

Hell was coming to Paradise, and there would be no denying its vengeance.





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There was a flavor of “Lord of the Flies” expressed through the savage tribe of kids who kidnapped the children in the first place. They were viscous, brutal creatures grown from the cycle of abuse this book explores. And the religious practices they had cultivated in the absence of love and protection is truly horrifying. It’s the kind of horror that at once makes your stomach churn and your hand itch to draw it. (Or maybe that’s just my response to these kind of stories…)

Jeanette Andromeda
Horror Made

I would place Mister Schiver's talents in league with Neil Gaiman's. He shines in his ability to let dialogue propel a story. That is trickier than it may seem, but the talented writers do it with an effortless grace.
 
T.W Brown
Brutally Honest Reviews

Meat's Birthday: Part 3





Need to catch up, check out Part 1 and Part 2!

“Please,” she whimpered as she pounded on the button to close the doors. The pressure of her child’s impending birth pushed down against her hips. The sound of her frantic heartbeat filled her ears.

The old man was reaching for the doors of the elevator when she glanced down and saw her own foot resting against the side of the opened door, blocking it open. Using the cuff of her pants she pulled her leg inside the elevator car as she frantically jabbed at the close door button.

The doors rumbled softly as they closed on the grisly scene in the lobby, She lay there,  for the moment, in relative safety, as the sound of the old man slapping the elevator doors came faintly through the metal.

Her hair was plastered to her sweaty forehead and she panted in an effort to bring the growing contractions under control. With her hands on her swollen belly she focused on the light in the ceiling as she struggled to regain control over her body. As if she could will her body to reverse a course that came from years of evolution.

She didn’t know what was going on outside the confines of the elevator, but she knew she couldn’t stay here. Pushing herself up to her knees she hit the button for her floor and pulled herself to her feet using the handrail that ran around the interior of the elevator car.
She might not know what was going on, but she knew someone who did, and she cringed inwardly at the way she had treated the strange man in Seven C.

Would he help her? She wondered as a soft ding came from the light above the door and the doors slid open with a faint rumble.

The hallway beyond was just as she had left it. Mrs. Franklin’s walker still lay on its side across from the door of her apartment. As she cautiously stepped into the hallway, her head on a swivel, she heard Mrs. Franklin flailing against the closed door at the other end of the hallway.

Another contraction drove her to her knees as the baby, no longer willing to be denied, began forcing its way down.

“No,” she whimpered as she reached out for the door to Seven C, “not now, please, not now.”

The sound of footsteps came from her left and she turned her head in that direction, spotting an old man staggering down the hallway towards her. His hands were out in front of him, like twisted claws grasping at the air. The front of his torn shirt was stained with blood. It was obvious something had been at him, the place where his belly should have been was an empty cavity. A white rib poking through gnawed meat at the top of the cavity.

It was too much for her to comprehend, her world had been turned upside down, and she didn’t know how to respond. Nothing in her life had prepared her for what she faced so she clung to the only thing she felt was certain.

If she could get this damned baby out of her, she could escape this nightmare, and get to New York where she was certain the world still turned as it should. Not like the insanity she had awakened into.

Moving as if she were trapped in a nightmare she crawled towards the door for Seven C, glancing back at the old man who staggered towards her. She reached the door and beat against it with her fist as the old man got closer. She leaned against the cool surface, crying in resigned desperation as the old man’s erratic footsteps neared.

The door she was leaning against swung open, she fell into a cool emptiness as the man who lived there stepped into the hallway. He was carrying a baseball bat and she watched as he vanished from view. From the hallway came a sound like a cantaloupe being dropped to the floor and the man returned, his baseball bat dripping blood.

He stood over her, looking down at her with the bloody baseball bat in his hand, and she suspected that she had made a serious mistake coming here.

He tossed the bat to the side and bent down to pick her up. She struggled against him as he pulled her to her feet with his hands under her arms, then he was picking her up and carrying her across the room.

In the next room she saw the bed and fought against him as he lay her down and began pulling her pants down. Contractions slammed into her, doubling her over, but he refused to let her curl up into a tight ball.

“You gotta have this baby,” he said as he pulled her pants off and tossed them aside. He hooked his fingers under the elastic waist of her panties and she slapped at his hands in a half hearted attempt to stop him.

“I’m an EMT, just relax,” he said as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and began probing her with his fingers. She felt violated as he forced her legs apart, but the contractions, that were now coming like the waves of the ocean crashing against a rocky shore, dulled her embarrassment.

“He’s coming,” the man said as what felt like a sack of potatoes forced its way out of her body. 

“I don’t have anything I can give you,” he said as her flesh tore and an intense pain flared. She cried out as her once swollen belly collapsed upon itself, yet the contractions continued as the last of the baby that had inhabited her body for nine months was released from its womb.

The last thing she remembered before she passed out was the sound of a baby crying.

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the bulkiness between her legs, she carefully ran her hand down to find bandages under her panties . From the other room came the voice of a news reporter talking about crazed attacks in Washington D.C.

Throwing back the blankets she pushed herself to her feet and stood swaying with dizziness. She had to get out of here. The stretched skin around her belly hung in a flap that draped over the hem of her panties. Finding her maternity jeans she slipped them on, almost falling as she tried to balance herself on one foot. They were too large now and she was forced to hold them up with one hand.

When she was dressed she turned to find the man in Seven C watching her from the bedroom door. In his arms he cradled an infant swaddled in a blanket. Actually he didn’t look half bad, he was older, with a fringe of gray along the edges of his brown hair.

“I gotta get out of here,” she said as she searched for her shoes.

“You don’t want to go out there, not in your condition. The dead are walking the streets, attacking anything living. Everything has come to a halt. There’s no more buses, no more airplanes, the world is changing. And what about your son?  Don’t you want to see him?”

“No, now just leave me alone, I gotta go,” she said as she searched the room for her things. On a chair in the corner she found her purse that she slung over her shoulder. She should have had the damned abortion. Nine months spent carrying that little monster all for nothing.

But maybe the Mowery’s were still okay. Maybe she could find them, give them the kid, and collect her money. No! One glance at the man in apartment C told her it was all a  wash. There was a sincerity about what he’d said, coupled with what she had seen already, that only served to confirm what she already knew.

Once again she was getting screwed. Circumstances had changed and she’d been left holding the bag. It was the story of her life.

“Where are you gonna go?” the man said.

“North, New York city, what does it matter to you? Anywhere away from this place.”

“What about your son? Don’t you want to take him?”

“No, you keep him, I’ve got better things to do with my life.”

“Lady, the world has changed, its not like it was.”

“It’ll be better in New York, I know it will, they’ll fix it.”

“Who’s gonna fix it?”

The government, the police, the army, they’ll take care of it.”

“They’re gone, either hiding in a bunker somewhere or wandering the streets looking for something to eat. The world we knew is gone. The dead have risen from their graves and judgment is upon us.”

She stopped then as she recalled what she had found in the lobby. “I can’t stay here, I have to go.”

“I’m headed to the mountains, you can come along if you want, it’ll be safer there. I was getting ready to bug out when you pounded on my door.”

Hide in the mountains, or go to New York and follow her destiny? It was an easy choice. Nothing was going to stand in the way of her future. Besides, no matter how bad the problem was, surely the government had it under control, no matter what this nutcase was babbling about.

“I’ve gotta get to New York.”

“New York is not what it used to be.”

She found her shoes under the dresser and fished them out with one foot. Once she’d gotten them on she crossed the room to the door. The man stepped back.

“Don’t you want to see your baby?”

She shook her head as she pushed past him, at the door of the apartment she struggled briefly with the locks before opening the door.

“Don’t you want to give your baby a name before you go?”

“You can call him Meat for all I care,” she said as she slipped through the door.

The man looked at the child in his arms. “Meat it is,” he said.


THE END

I hope you enjoyed this brief foray into the Zombie apocalypse. If you'd like to read more about Meat and his friends, grab a copy of All Roads Lead to Terror. I promise you won't be disappointed. If you have Kindle Unlimited it's free to read.





Coming June 24, 2016
The Reaping


Reserve your copy today!