Thursday Flash Tale – A NOLA Zombie Exclusive Short

Thursday Flash Tale – A NOLA Zombie Exclusive Short

For Apocalypse month our Flash Tales will not be so random. This month’s flash tales will be tales of the apocalypse – and today’s tale is set in the NOLA Zombie world. This is part two of the NOLA Zombie exclusive. Enjoy.

This is an unedited NOLA Zombie short. All content © 2016 by Gillian Zane.

Nixon – Part II

I realized I might have made a mistake as the two-lane highway became an isolated causeway over miles and miles of swamp. There were no turnarounds and nowhere to go but forward. I weaved in and out of stalled cars, some with the dead still rotting away on the inside. At this point, they were barely skin and bones. They beat on the windows weakly as I passed. Their fingers clawed for escape. I tried not to cringe as bone met glass in a sickly, nails on chalkboard, sound.

Dead bodies were strewn in my path and I had to slow the bike. The gas had made it this far out of the city, taking out an entire group of the fuckers. They disintegrated where they lay, their bodies already half decomposed before the gas got to them. I slowly rolled over them, the squish of their jellied body parts making my stomach heave.

As the carpet of dead bodies faded to cement so did the tall trees that hemmed me in on both sides. Even though I had never seen a cypress before I recognized the statuesque trees from their dripping leaves and knotty roots. Thick swamp led to a few trees here and there and then finally to open water as the lake that bordered New Orleans to the north came into view.

I had never been good at geography, so I couldn’t remember the name of this particular lake. It had been long and funny, though, I knew that. I wonder if anyone remembered its name? Would one day all of our names fade into unremembered history, renamed and repurposed. When humanity finally got it’s foothold, started progressing and taming the world around them, again – would they look back on us and wonder about our motives, like we did on the ancients?

Would we wonder why we built a lady with a torch in the middle of a bay? Wonder if it was a token to the gods?

Too damn introspective. I was losing my edge since the gas drop. That would be fine and all if the danger was gone, but it wasn’t. The dead still lurked in the hidden bits of this world and the living were doing everything it took to survive. And that usually didn’t mean good things for me.

Gotta stay focused. There was plenty of time to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it meant to cook up crazy ideas in my head, once I bunkered down for the night in a safe a secure hideaway.

The cool wind bit through the leather jacket that was my prized possession. It was October, if my day keeping was accurate, which it might not be. About two-hundred and forty-three days ago I took a header off the side of a bridge trying to escape a very persistent group of fuckers and had hit my head pretty hard. I had crawled into a minivan and passed out. I had come to at day break. It might have been the next day, it might have been a few days. I had been hella thirsty and starving, but I had been alive.

The bridge went up and over and as I rounded the corner I sucked in a breath. The view was amazing. Blue sky stretched over a dark blue lake. Eagles circled in the air, the high pitched screams a dead giveaway that they were the revered bald eagles. As I neared their dark bodies and white heads confirmed what they were and I couldn’t help but smile. The animals that endangered before were now thriving in a world without men. Someone might as well prosper from our downfall.

The highway opened up before me when I reached the midway point of the causeway, stalled cars fading behind me as if the area had been cleared. Pieces and parts of cars were scattered on the ground of the highway, making me wonder if this was indeed what had happened. A side mirror lay on the cement, broken glass scattered across the road. Blood splatters but there were no bodies. Someone had taken the time to clear the highway. But who?

In the distance a highway sign loomed, dark spray paint splattered across it. I figured it was more of the same from the doom and gloom painter from before. But I slowed to a crawl when I could make out the words. In big black letters painted neatly across the sign read:

Safe Zone. New Orleans. French Quarter. Follow the signs.

Reese

“You’re not going, and that’s final Reese.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I hated when they forced me to be petulant. I hadn’t been a kid for a long time. Hell, I hadn’t been a kid since I watched the first zombie chomp down on fresh flesh. That kind of changed a girl.

But, this town was overrun by military hot heads and I was a skinny teen they had scooped up on the side of the road, screaming for help. I had been carted off and placed with stand-in parents and lumped in with the rest of the brats that were lucky enough not to become zombie chow. There hadn’t been many kids that made it and the ones that aged out of kid status weren’t being allowed to transition into the grown-up jobs.

“Eighteen is still too young,” the shift coordinator, Paul said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m nineteen.” I corrected him, clenching my teeth. “And I’ve been training with the squads for two years. I moved out on my own six months ago, what’s it gonna take to get on a mission?”

“Approval by the council,” he stated flatly.

“This is ridiculous, and the argument for keeping me behind the walls is invalid.” I went for logic. I had gone with anger the first time. Frustration for the second time. Spoiled brat the third. Now that this quarter’s shifts were about to go up, I would go for logic.

“You know they gotta approve everyone I let out the city, Reese and they aren’t going to green light you.” Paul sighed, finally hitting me with the truth. The truth we had both known but didn’t want to admit. It all came down to three people. The Voiters, those damn over-protective asshats. Sure, they had taken me and my little sister in when everything had gone to hell, but that didn’t give them the right to lord their rules and regulations over me. It didn’t help that Hank and Barbara were on the council. Or that Hank’s little brother, the man I called Uncle Romeo was one of the reasons this city existed at all.

“This is dictator bullshit,” I grumbled.

“You can’t be a dictator when you’re one of seven,” Paul laughed, but he quickly tried to cover up his smile when he saw that I wasn’t amused. “Look, Reese, you don’t want to be out there. Stay safe. Stay inside the city.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say. They didn’t care about my ideas or the fact that I could help this city survive. All they cared about was the past and how so many had died. Sure, it was still dangerous out there, but I could handle myself. Since the world ended I had been training non-stop, learning how to protect myself, learning how to protect my sister, so I wouldn’t lose another family member.

“I need the part, Ryan. And no one’s going to get it to me.”

“Your biodiesel experiment. Anything that runs on gas is out, nothing you can do about it.”

“Says you.”

“Says the rest of the city.” I threw up my hands in disgust and huffed off. These fools wouldn’t see past their own agendas. No one would give my biodiesel idea any credit. It was too much work, it was too hard to convert. Blah, blah, freaking blah. I had found a way to do it and I had found the perfect vehicle, all I needed were a few parts. The only problem, from the old advertisements I had found, the place was in Kenner. A city fifteen miles from my location. It would take me half a day to walk it, a few hours if I could find a bike. And now that I was going to do it on my own, a whole lot of courage.

“Screw it,” I said out loud, kicking at the overgrown grass that bordered the street. I had everything prepared, I could make it there and back in two days at most. The only problem would be sleeping arrangements that night. But, I could find a place to hole up. Sure, I had never been out on my own in this screwed up world.

All the zombies had been gassed. What’s the worst that could happen?

Liked what you read?

Check out the NOLA Zombie series free on Kindle Unlimited.

NOLA Zombie Prequel

Cassie’s Coffee Shop Escapades – Flash Fiction Thursday

It’s been awhile. I have nothing but long and drawn out excuses that you don’t want to hear. They involve a wasp infestation, the fact that I can’t say no…and the genius idea of turning rentals into AirBnB’s but doing all the work myself. But, I made it. And I’m writing again. I even have a release schedule. What? Yup. And I thought my “back on the horse” flash fiction, would take place in the world of Karma Inc. which is my current series.

This is an unedited Karma Inc. short. All content © 2017 by Gillian Zane.

read more

Thursday Flash Tale – A Flash Fiction Adventure

We are trying something new on the PJV, we call it Flash Tales. It’s Flash Fiction, with a random writing prompt. Joss and I will be doing this, and we would love to have you guys join in. Or just read our stuff and let us know what you think. What we are doing is generating a random idea prompt, using the site Short Story Ideas. Then we’ll write a 1K to 2K tale based off of the idea generated.

Here is what the Short Story Idea generated for me:

A convenience store is the location, angst is the theme. A pack of cigarettes is an object that plays a part in the story.

read more
Page 1 of 212
Thursday Flash Tale – A NOLA Zombie Exclusive Short

Thursday Flash Tale – A NOLA Zombie Exclusive Short

For Apocalypse month our Flash Tales will not be so random. This month’s flash tales will be tales of the apocalypse – and today’s tale is set in the NOLA Zombie world. This is not a character that was in the NOLA Zombie books – he’s new. Enjoy.

This is an unedited NOLA Zombie short. All content © 2016 by Gillian Zane.

Nixon –  two hundred and forty-three

I had survived one thousand, three hundred and twenty-two days. Alone. Well, the majority of the time I was alone. I had made the mistake, early on, of teaming up with a few breathers. It was in the beginning. When I was only a dumb kid. I learned quickly that they only make things harder, the living that is. Their fear and stupid emotional reactions drag you down. They want to talk about their feelings and go on and on about how they just want it to go back to the way it used to be. They quickly labeled me the bad guy because I didn’t get all torn up when shit needed to get done. Like when Amanda had gotten bit.

I didn’t want to even think her name. She was a good kid. Barely fifteen.

So, I left. They wanted to wait and see. They wanted to treat her. She could be cured. She could be different. Denial is how you die. They thought I was the big bad because I wanted to separate her, lock her in a room, maybe kill her. There had been accusations. Screaming. They told me to leave. I left.

I didn’t turn around when the screams of anger turned to screams of fear. It carried over the air. The night was cool, the sound carried, I still remember like it was yesterday. The moans of the dead became more excited, more energized as the screams of the living intensified. That was nine hundred eighty-two days ago.

Now I knew better. If they were alive, they would know better. The bites change you. They should have let me kill her. But, they had hope. And this world wasn’t one where you could let hope grab ahold of you. Hope meant death. Hope was for morons. Hope was dead.

This world wasn’t for the stupid or the hopeful. It was for the strong and the smart.

You couldn’t be weak. You couldn’t be led by your emotions. I had started out weak. But, luckily I wasn’t stupid, so I made sure I wasn’t weak anymore. The old me wouldn’t recognize the person I was now. Wouldn’t know what to do with this new me. The extra forty pounds I had carried around were sloughed off because there were no endless nights behind a computer. There also wasn’t that much to eat. I had definition in my arms and my chest because of what it took to stay alive these days. Killing was quite a workout.

I could have let myself get soft again after the planes had come. The planes that flew low as they blew out noxious gas. The gas was followed by xerox copied pamphlets that boasted about a cure. We were saved. We had a government that would come to the rescue.

La tee fucking da.

They forgot one thing, though. What about the fuckers that they didn’t gas? The ones in the houses? The ones under bridges or the ones in remote areas that they weren’t able to get to? Typical government.

Like the group that was coming toward me, right at this moment. I smiled. I’m sure it was insane looking. I enjoyed killing them. My post-apocalyptic workout. I had been so weak when this all went down. Now look at me.

Swing. Chop. Thrust. Repeat.

It hadn’t always been like this. The first large group I took out, my arms had ached for days. Now, it was like second nature. I gripped the machete in my hands, like a bat. A small one stumbled toward me. It’s head reached my chest. I logically put together that it was a child, but I didn’t want to acknowledge that. It was just a short fucker. I planted my legs and waited for it to get closer. The moment it came in reach I swung.

“Batter, batter,” the sound of crunching skull was pleasant in a psychotic way. Wet shit flung back as I made contact with the skull. My machete cleaved through the head with less effort than I expected.

“Fuckers zero, Nixon two hundred and forty-three,” I banged my blade on the sidewalk to dislodge the flesh that still clung to it. They were getting slower. The second one hadn’t even reached me yet, it limped painstakingly forward, it’s mouth gaped open. A horrid sound emanated from its throat, it wasn’t quite a moan, more like a rattling breath.

One swing of my blade and it went down with a wet crunch.

I glanced to the left and right to see if there were any more coming. None. That was the last one. I was on a deserted road, in the middle of Who-The-Hell-Knew where. I wasn’t really paying attention when I had driven up here. I had started moving a few months ago and hadn’t stopped. Head South. Seemed like the smart thing to do at the time. It was better than up North. No winters down South. The winter had nearly killed me.

Fucking almost froze my ass off. Almost burned a few houses down too. After a blizzard that had me holed up in some shit-hole motel for a month, eating stale cheese twists and drinking melted snow, I was done with that crap. I needed sun and humidity.

I slipped my machete into the homemade sheeth on my thigh and got back on my bike. I wasn’t used to riding long distances, so my ass needed a break every now again, but with no fuckers in sight, time to get back on the move.

I had taken to calling the infected, fuckers. What else was I supposed to call them? Zombies. Fuckers were more appropriate. Zombies were fiction, from television or books. My friends and I used to discuss for hours what would happen if a zombie apocalypse hit. We hadn’t known shit. We had been such idiots. Now they were all dead and I was barely alive. So, they were fuckers. Started out as dead fuckers, but that’s too long. So fuckers it is. Not that I would offend anyone with my foul-mouthed tendencies. I hadn’t seen a person in sixty-two days and it hadn’t been a person I wanted to get to know better.

The breathers were sometimes a lot worse than the dead. The breathers pointed guns at you and tried to steal your bike and your food.

And I had considered myself anti-social before the end of the world. Who was I kidding?

I chuckled out loud. I was prone to talking to myself since I was my own company.

Something glinted off in the distance. A highway sign that was still standing. The cracked blacktop road I had been racing down for the last week was now merging onto a raised causeway. The area around me had gone from pine forest to swampy without me noticing. I tried to remember what highway I was on so I could place myself. Many of the highway signs were missing or in disrepair. Some asshole had painted ‘This is The End’ on a lot of the ones in this area, covering up the words beneath. I had no idea where I was.

I slowed as I neared the big green highway sign, still in pristine condition. It read:

New Orleans 30

I had always wanted to go to New Orleans.

Liked what you read?

Check out the NOLA Zombie series free on Kindle Unlimited.

NOLA Zombie Prequel

Cassie’s Coffee Shop Escapades – Flash Fiction Thursday

It’s been awhile. I have nothing but long and drawn out excuses that you don’t want to hear. They involve a wasp infestation, the fact that I can’t say no…and the genius idea of turning rentals into AirBnB’s but doing all the work myself. But, I made it. And I’m writing again. I even have a release schedule. What? Yup. And I thought my “back on the horse” flash fiction, would take place in the world of Karma Inc. which is my current series.

This is an unedited Karma Inc. short. All content © 2017 by Gillian Zane.

read more

Thursday Flash Tale – A Flash Fiction Adventure

We are trying something new on the PJV, we call it Flash Tales. It’s Flash Fiction, with a random writing prompt. Joss and I will be doing this, and we would love to have you guys join in. Or just read our stuff and let us know what you think. What we are doing is generating a random idea prompt, using the site Short Story Ideas. Then we’ll write a 1K to 2K tale based off of the idea generated.

Here is what the Short Story Idea generated for me:

A convenience store is the location, angst is the theme. A pack of cigarettes is an object that plays a part in the story.

read more
Page 1 of 212
My Book is Here!!!! Honor by Gillian Zane Release Day Party & Giveaway

My Book is Here!!!! Honor by Gillian Zane Release Day Party & Giveaway

HONOR (BOOK 5 in the NOLA Zombie Series)

Free on Kindle Unlimited. Available Now!

About Honor by Gillian Zane

My Book is Here!!!! Honor by Gillian Zane Release Day Party & Giveaway

HONOR by Gillian Zane

Series: NOLA Zombie #5
Published by Parajunkee Publishing on May 13, 2016
Pages: 282
Format: eBook
Source: Provided by Author
Also in this series: Live
Also by this author: Live, Liar



The NOLA Zombie series comes to a close with this emotional and action-packed installment.

Since the SHTF, Romeo is good at one thing, killing zombies. He doesn’t want to waste his time with anything else. His fellow survivors think of him as a machine and he’s fine with that. There isn’t any time to waste on things, like feelings, or other nonsense.

Lena Dervay, former movie star, current walking victim has barely been surviving in a repurposed middle school run by an incompetent Army Lieutenant. She and her group of survivors are as good as dead if they stay put.  When Lena finally gets in touch with Romeo, she knows that if anyone can come in and save the day, it’s him. Problem is, Romeo isn’t the charming, white knight, hero that she remembers. Lena is still drawn to him, though, and as their paths intersect she knows she might not come out intact in the end, body or soul.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: http://goo.gl/tK7JvD

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1WqIfJF

Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1Ojfxau

About Gillian Zane

Gillian Zane aka Parajunkee aka Rachel

Gillian Zane aka Parajunkee aka Rachel

Author

Gillian Zane is the author of the NOLA Zombie series. Zane is the pen name of a prominent blogger in the publishing industry, which will remain a mystery unless you Google it. Since she can remember her goal has been to become Master of the Universe and has decided to focus first on the literary world. Things are progressing nicely.

Zane has been a freelance writer for the last ten years and has published a few non-fiction works, none of which was very exciting. Zombies are much more exciting and a way for her to combine her two current obsessions, hot boys with guns and Doomsday Prepping. When she isn’t stockpiling MREs (Meal’s Ready to Eat) or researching how to build a cistern on a budget, she’s taking care of her little family and exploring the city that she loves, New Orleans. You can find Gillian Zane on twitter @GillianZane.

Sign up for her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bmCzWf

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Teaser Tuesday – Honor by Gillian Zane & Trailer Reveal

Teaser Tuesday – Honor by Gillian Zane & Trailer Reveal

Honor (NOLA Zombie Book 5)

The Final NOLA Zombie Book – for reals…

About the Book: 

Title: HONOR
Series: NOLA Zombie #5
Author: Rachel Rivera writing as Gillian Zane
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Zombie, Horror
Pages: 262

Preorder from Amazon

 

Setting up the scene:

This is Chapter One in HONOR. The chapter begins right where Justice left off. The trials are still going on and Romeo finds himself acting as judge. Enjoy.

Exclusive Excerpt from HONOR

ONE | Life and Death

Romeo

Deciding whether a man lives or dies is a sobering experience. I looked from one member of the group to another; their faces were all shuttered, unreadable.  No one spoke, so I cast my vote.

“Guilty.”

He was guilty. Guilt as hell. And a drug addict to make matters worse. He had no redeemable qualities. He was a monster and should make a swift exit from the human race. The fact that the world was now full of these kinds of people made me question if the human race deserved to continue. There was a reason the infected were trying to eat us. Someone had called in the big finale. Why was I trying to delay the inevitable? Maybe it was time humans threw in the towel.

If I had to cast my vote for the human race, how would I vote?

I wasn’t normally one to throw in the towel, but this job as a judge was fucking with my head. Zach was in the radio room setting up a communications scheduled with Fort Polk. He couldn’t sit for this trial. Blake was MIA. I was pretty sure he was hunting Junior, one of the prisoners who had escaped.

Blake had been given direct orders not to go looking for Junior, but he was under the opinion that the man was poison and would do his damnedest to get back at us. If we let him escape into the world, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. We did take over his base, kill the majority of his fellow bikers and sentence him to death. Cause for revenge, in my opinion.

A death sentence like the one we handed to this last guy. Another monster. Another rapist and murderer. He deserved it.

He was one of the last trials we had to hold. We only had two more after this one. Only three more times to listen to crack of the firing squad. Then it would be over. This whole Lakeview debacle would be a closed deal and I could go back to the compound and get back to my routine.

I couldn’t wait to be done with Lakeview.

Zach James, my superior, was trying to set up trade deals and bureaucratic nonsense with the guy in charge of the newly acquired Lakeview, so I knew I hadn’t seen the last of this place, but hopefully it would be awhile before I made my way off the island.

The last vote of guilty was logged and we all nodded at one another. This one had been easier. An open and shut case, so to speak.

“Death or exile?” Jeremy Grafmueller, who we all called Graf, asked the group.

“Death,” everyone said at once. Most of us, at least. Grace, as per her usual, voted exile. She had done it each time, stubborn in her sympathies. Grace was one of the two civilians on the judging panel. She was from my group of survivors, the voice of civilian logic and reason, or some bullshit like that. A bleeding heart as my grandfather would have said.

“I was against the death penalty Pre-Z, I will not sacrifice my morals just because the world’s ended,” she told me when I asked her about her vote of exile each time.

I could understand her valuing a human life, but in my opinion, these were not lives of value.

I followed the group out of the back room where we had been discussing the verdict in private. The trials were being held in a large room that had once been a drug store. I took my seat at the front of the room with the others, but Graf remained standing.

The man on trial was out of it. His head lolled on his neck and he had a serious case of the shakes. They had run out of meth, death would be a compassionate way out for them. Compassion they didn’t deserve.

“Carson Lagarde, street name Fix, the panel finds you guilty, the sentence is death,” Graf, the National Guard representative, delivered the verdict.

Bye bye, motherfucker. Shouldn’t have had a thing for raping underage girls.

The tweaker didn’t realize he was about to die. He was twitching so hard you could have shot him right there and he wouldn’t have noticed. The tweakers had been left for last, thinking it would give them more of a chance to dry out. Isaiah Smith, resident doctor, had been feeding them low dosages of meth to wean them off slowly, but it wasn’t working and they ran out yesterday. The trials were pushed up because they were all dying. If it wasn’t the firing squad, their hearts would give out because of the withdrawals.   

The man was led out of the room. He would go to the back parking lot and be shot by five of the soldiers. He didn’t protest. I wanted to feel bad for the guy, I wanted some moral twinge to register. Nothing. He deserved his fate.

“Romeo.” I looked up to find Lex walking toward me. She strode across the room like she owned the place. Heads turned as she walked by and she was either clueless to their attention, or ignored it well. Everyone followed Lex with their eyes, the men and the women. She was something else. In another life, in another time, I would have given Blake and Zach a run for their money. But that was the Romeo of before, Pre-Z, a man I didn’t even identify with now. And Lex belonged to Zach and Blake, and they belonged to her. Nothing would or could change that.

“Lex?” I asked.

“Zach sent me to get you, said he’s in contact with the remaining members of the 256th out of Destrehan or LaPlace. Something like that. Someone’s asking for you by name.”

“The 256th? I don’t know anyone in that division,” I said confused.

“I have no idea, I’m just the messenger. He said it was someone named Lena, if that helps,” she shrugged.

Lena.

I didn’t respond to Lex. I turned toward the exit and ran. I ran as fast as I could to the radio room.

HONOR Releases May 13

The NOLA Zombie series comes to a close with this emotional and action-packed installment.

Since the SHTF, Romeo is good at one thing, killing zombies. He doesn’t want to waste his time with anything else. His fellow survivors think of him as a machine and he’s fine with that. There isn’t any time to waste on things, like feelings, or other nonsense.

Lena Dervay, former movie star, current walking victim has barely been surviving in a repurposed middle school run by an incompetent Army Lieutenant. She and her group of survivors are as good as dead if they stay put. When Lena finally gets in touch with Romeo, she knows that if anyone can come in and save the day, it’s him. Problem is, Romeo isn’t the charming, white knight, hero that she remembers. Lena is still drawn to him, though, and as their paths intersect she knows she might not come out intact in the end, body or soul.

PreOrder Now
Cover Reveal: Honor – The Final NOLA Zombie book

Cover Reveal: Honor – The Final NOLA Zombie book

The NOLA Zombie Final Book - HONOR - has a cover!!

Yeah, I said it – FINAL.

 

It’s the last one.

You still want to see the cover?

 

You might as well scroll down and see it…

 

Wait for it…

 

 

 

PreOrder HonorGoodreads

The NOLA Zombie series comes to a close with this emotional and action-packed installment.

Since the SHTF, Romeo is good at one thing, killing zombies. He doesn’t want to waste his time with anything else. His fellow survivors think of him as a machine and he’s fine with that. There isn’t any time to waste on things, like feelings, or other nonsense.

Lena Dervay, former movie star, current walking victim has barely been surviving in a repurposed middle school run by an incompetent Army Lieutenant. She and her group of survivors are as good as dead if they stay put. When Lena finally gets in touch with Romeo, she knows that if anyone can come in and save the day, it’s him. Problem is, Romeo isn’t the charming, white knight, hero that she remembers. Lena is still drawn to him, though, and as their paths intersect she knows she might not come out intact in the end, body or soul.

PreOrder Now!

Releasing Friday, May 13th

Amazon PreOrder
Excerpt from HONOR by Gillian Zane

PROLOGUE | Couture & Cramping

Lena

Being crammed into the crawl space above a middle school’s hallway while a group of shuffling, hungry infected invaded my safe zone was now a top ten scariest moment of my life. Not that I had much of a life before the world ended, but I hadn’t lived that sheltered of an existence. I was safe for the moment, but sixty-eight of my fellow survivors were about to get eradicated from the planet unless they had a hiding place like mine.

The fact that this was all because some moron didn’t check the fences today, had me wanting to scream in frustration. But, there was no screaming in my world. I had to be quiet. I couldn’t draw attention to myself. I was invisible. I was nonexistent. My nonexistent leg was crapping.

A couple months ago I was worried about what to say in my Academy Award acceptance speech and who to choose for my dress designer. Now, I was lucky if I had a clean pair of underwear. Couture in June, the poster child for apocalypse chic in–

I didn’t even know what month it was.

If I could tweet, I would end it in FML. Fuck my life. I wasn’t much for bad language, especially in social media. I had learned to keep it to a minimum since I had played a teenager in most of the movies I starred in.  Wouldn’t want to offend the parents, offended parents led to an out of work movie star. But, the phrase seemed appropriate, I wish I could tweet it out. Of all the things, I was missing twitter? So, not glamorous. My life wasn’t glamorous anymore. I was lucky to be alive, much less glamming it up. Most days I closed my eyes and wondered exactly how I had made it this far. Today though, it looked like it might be the day. Selena Dervay, it’s been real.

While this day was a top ten on the scary factor, I have seen almost a dozen or so days like this. Since the world ended, that is. Maybe more. I’ve even had to kill people. They were infected people, but at one point they were walking, talking human beings. I’ve had to run, I’ve had to hide. My strict, pre-end of the world, 1700 calorie intake was probably close to 1000 calories a day now–not to be redundant but in the few short months that the world had ended my life had changed drastically. I was stuck in a perpetual dystopian loop, something I had played on film, but now I was playing it in real life. It was much more fun to play it on film.

The poster child for the apocalypse pity party, Selena Dervay. Take a bow.

I reigned in my neggie thoughts as I battled to stay balanced in the ceiling of the school. The space between the foam tiles and the roof was dusty and grimy and I did everything in my power not to sneeze. I hated being dirty. I was trying to get used to the fact that I was always going to be in a state of nasty, but it wasn’t in my DNA to like it. Every speck clung to me and made my skin crawl. Every sharp piece of grime bit into my skin and made me want to itch, squirm, and flail.

There was something smeared across my cheek. I concentrated on the dried, dirty, liquid instead of glancing below me at what was going on underneath me. They were packed to the gills down there. Piling in one after another, following the scent of fresh meat.

Could they smell?

I knew they could hear, I had realized that early on. But how did they know to force their way into the school?

Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of gunfire was attracting more and more, but how did they know where to go in the beginning? They honed in our location in the gym and went straight for it. Their fevered pace and excited moaning clued me in on the fact that they were aware there was fresh meat in abundance ahead.

The crack of automatic fire ricocheted through the halls again and I pressed my ear into my shoulder, the sound deafening. The noise would travel. It would draw more. Not that there was any alternative. There was no knifing this horde.

The scream of the living rang out above the sound of gunfire and I knew another of my friends had gone down to the impending horde of the infected. Lena’s apocalypse team negative one, infected one.

I shifted in my tiny space, my calf was cramping again and the tight pain shot through my leg. I tried to move without disturbing my area or looking down through the busted ceiling tile. I had scraped my legs when I had pulled myself up into the rafters, the cuts, the cramping and the dirt was almost unbearable.  I needed to relieve some pressure and get myself situated. I placed my hand down on the support beam to get myself back in position and hopefully work out the cramp. I pushed down too hard and the ceiling gave out from underneath me, the rectangle ceiling board that I had been propped on fell to the ground and slammed some of the infected on the head.

Calling out a hello would have been better.

My body followed the board down, my upper body falling through the ceiling head first. This was it. This was how I was going to die.

At the last minute, I caught myself. I kicked my foot out and it hit against something solid enough to hold me in place. If I weighed more than one hundred pounds at the moment, I was doing good. I had also been fit before the world ended, so my core could handle this position. I held myself up and used my thighs to brace myself on the support beam.

It was a one hell of a position to be in.

I hung there, over them. They knew I was here. I stared down at the hungry faces and they reached for me. Dirty hands reached for me, their fingers brushed my bright red hair that had come loose from the ponytail. One grabbed my hair and yanked. I cried out, causing more of the infected to stop and turn to face me.

I tried to pull myself up, but the nasty brute had a good grip on my hair. He was yanking back and forth trying to dislodge me from my hole.

“Lena!” Someone called my name from the end of the hall, but allI could do was whimper in response.

I was panting through my mouth. The stench of the infected was on my tongue and I swallowed hard to avoid gagging. I grabbed my hair and tried to pull it from the infected guy’s grip, but it was a useless task. He wasn’t letting go.

I was going to end up like one of these creatures. I was going to be a rotting corpse, stinking of piss and shit, my bodily fluids leaking from me as I tried to eat my friends. They would drag me down and bite me and one day a living person would spot me, moaning and dead and they would take me out. Maybe they would recognize me.

“Isn’t that the chick that was in that teen movie with the vampire?”

Cover Reveal: SHTF (NOLA Zombie #0.5) by Gillian Zane & Exclusive Excerpt

Cover Reveal: SHTF (NOLA Zombie #0.5) by Gillian Zane & Exclusive Excerpt

NOLA Zombie

The NOLA Zombie Prequel – SHTF – has a cover!!

 

Are you ready to see it??

 

You sure??

Okay, here it is…

An action-packed prequel to the Amazon bestselling NOLA Zombie series. This isn’t a romance…there aren’t any happily-ever-afters, this is just Romeo’s fight for survival and how he became a NOLA Survivor.

It’s Friday night in New Orleans and Tim “Romeo” Voiter has the night off. A night of rest and relaxation is something new for the former Marine, and he’s looking forward to enjoying a fun night out with his buddy, Lucas Martinez.  The two men try to ignore the emergency broadcasts and news about the spreading iKPV virus and just enjoy the evening. Romeo, true to his name, even hooks up with a hot redhead and plans on ending the evening at her place.

Plans come crashing down, though, as he comes face to face with what the iKPV infected really looks like–and it is not like any infection he’s encountered before.  Knowing the media is sugarcoating the virus and things are about to get a lot worse in his city, Romeo talks his family into leaving their urban home and bugging out to a more secluded and secure area; the compound his employers own at the edge of the city, deep in the marsh that surrounds New Orleans. But, as the infection spreads and New Orleans begins to fall under the chaos of victims gone made with the virus, Romeo begins to realize that the “stuff” has hit the fan in New Orleans and things will never be the same for the Voiters.

Add to Your TBR!

Releasing December 22nd

Goodreads

Unedited Excerpt from SHTF by Gillian Zane

ONE | Hipsters & Death Threats

Going from the lobby of the Royal Sonesta to a very hot and smelly Bourbon Street was surreal. The posh decadence of the hotel, along with its chilly air-conditioned halls were in startling contrast to the outside world. Lucas Martinez and I stepped out of the elegant interior of the hotel and onto the cobbled streets of the French Quarter and just stood there taking in our new environment. The jazz band across the street belted out a raucous tune and the laughter and catcalls of the party-goers walking up and down the street created a buzz of excitement that saturated the whole crowd. There was no place like New Orleans.

We were both now officially off-duty and standing in the middle of the French Quarter. It was strange. Made my skin itch under the surface.

Having Friday night off was a new thing for me. Being on domestic soil on a Friday night was even more out of the ordinary. Hell, I wasn’t used to being a civilian yet, so this new freedom felt odd and I didn’t know quite what to do with it. Granted, I could easily entertain myself, I was pretty good at that, but it was still an odd feeling.

I liked being on the job, I liked keeping busy, I never knew quite what to do with myself when free-time loomed in front me. I had to fill it up somehow and lately that seemed to be with women or drinking. When I wasn’t doing that, I was training or doing a detail. My family would have liked to have me with them, but that was another sort of drama I wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Which brings me back to Friday night. I had a whole weekend looming before me, forty-eight hours of free time. Our client had just relieved us of duty and I had no other job lined up until Monday.

It was going to be one of those extremely hot New Orleans summer weekends, I could already feel the sweat dripping down my back from the two minutes standing on the street. We were still standing in front of the hotel and the door would open, when tourists left and entered the building, each time a crisp, air-conditioned wind would blow past us, our only relief.  I decided, right then, I would make a goal, one that I would stick to this weekend–stay cool and stay inside, preferably in bed with a hot redhead. I had redheads on the brain.

Martinez and I had just been on a standard protection detail for one of the high-roller celebs that like to frequent the Big Easy.  With the skyrocketing murder rate and the threat of some kind of viral infection that was spreading in most of the major cities, we were constantly being called to escort New Orleans’ wealthy as they went about their business. The world was going to shit, lucky for me, when the world went to shit, everyone wanted a grunt at their side.

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