by Shana Festa
Praise for Time of Death
"Festa's second installment in her sharp, witty TIME OF DEATH series cuts like a knife. Taut, lean, hip, and terrifying, TIME OF DEATH: ASYLUM gets under your skin from page one and won't let go. There's something close to extraordinary in the ordinary life of narrator Emma Rossi -- her travails and wisecracks make the zombie infestation all the more horrifying. Highly recommended!"
-- JAY BONANSINGA, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE WALKING DEAD: DESCENT
"Shana Festa has done it again! Time of Death: Asylum continues Festa's winning streak with another harrowing ride through the zombie apocalypse. If you like zombies, this is who you should be reading right now. Festa is the real deal.
-- JOE MCKINNEY, BRAM STOKER AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF PLAGUE OF THE UNDEAD AND DEAD WORLD: RESURRECTION
"Shana Festa's TIME OF DEATH: INDUCTION is a fresh, gritty, realistic and emotional look at the zompocalypse."
-- CRAIG DILOUIE, AUTHOR OF THE INFECTION
"A must read. Time of Death: Induction is the zombie apocalypse at its best. Scary, scary stuff."
-- MARK TUFO, AUTHOR OF THE ZOMBIE FALLOUT SERIES
"A strong woman, a cute dog and a cast of characters who struggle to overcome every obstacle the zombies throw at them--and there are a lot--make Shana Festa’s writing stand out among the others of the genre. Read it!"
-- SARAH LYONS FLEMING, AUTHOR OF UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD
"Shana Festa has got a talent for giving us endlessly entertaining stories and characters we can love. Festa has a voice and talent to be reckoned with."
-- RACHEL AUKES, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF 100 DAYS IN DEADLAND
A PERMUTED PRESS book
Published at Smashwords
ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-61868-418-9
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-417-2
Time of Death: Asylum copyright © 2014
by Shana Festa
All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue: The Story So far
Chapter 01: Silent Night
Chapter 02: That's What She Said
Chapter 03: Tuesday
Chapter 04: Walk Her to the Door
Chapter 05: Kinemortophobia
Chapter 06: Polly Want A Cracker?
Chapter 07: Yo, Adrian
Chapter 08: Are We There Yet?
Chapter 09: Dry Clean Only
Chapter 10: Godspeed
Chapter 11: Window Shopping
Chapter 12: When Ya Gotta Go
Chapter 13: Code Gray
Chapter 14: We're Not in Kansas Anymore
Chapter 15: My Dog's A Racist
Chapter 16: Welcome to Asylum
Chapter 17: A Three Hour Tour
Chapter 18: Hail to the Chief
Chapter 19: Lambs to the Slaughter
Chapter 20: It's in the Rules
Chapter 21: Sanctimonious Prick
Chapter 22: Morning Wood
Chapter 23: Saddle Up
Epilogue: I See You
About the Author
Dedication
For my parents, Robin and Billy, who continue to bicker over which one of them gets the credit for my love of literature.
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I would like to thank my husband, Tony, for supporting me wholeheartedly in everything I do. He has been my inspiration and motivation; he is my rock.
To my editor, Bobbie Metevier, for her patience, constructive criticism, attention to detail, and encouragement. She is truly a gem.
To each and every author I've had the privilege of getting to know since embarking on this journey.
Special thanks to:
Stevie Kopas—For laughing with me every time the word fart enters the conversation, and the only person I know with a snark level that rivals my own.
Devan Sagliani—The most Zen guy I've ever met, and a friend with a heart of gold.
Stephen Kozeniewski—For both his hilarious antics, and his insatiable enthusiasm.
Jackie Druga—Without her gentle nudging, Time of Death wouldn't exist.
To my Bookie Monster team, for always being willing to step up to the plate and contributing their limitless talent to the site.
To the winners and runner’s up of the tag line and creative kill contests: Violet Baker, Mysti Holsinger-Stitt, Claudette Melanson, and Dorothy Cannon O'Keeffe. Thanks for your submissions. I hope I’ve done them justice.
To Sergeant Michael Herman of the Naples Police Department, Corporal Tom Sweeny, and K9 Boss of the Collier County Sheriff's Office. For letting me pick your brains and helping me to create a great character that readers can connect with. Thank you for protecting our communities with your lives, today and always. Stay safe out there!
And finally, a big thank you to the readers who let me know how much they enjoyed Induction, or left a positive review. Never underestimate the impact of your kind words and encouragement.
* * *
I love receiving feedback from readers and the best way to provide that is with a review. When you leave a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Goodreads, or wherever you purchased a book, it helps other readers. This also helps the author more than you can imagine.
So please, friends, if you like the book, leave a review.
Prologue: The Story So far
Who am I? Honestly, I don't know anymore. If someone had asked me that question in September, I would have told them I was a nursing student with a snarky sense of humor, who finds the most immature things comical and jokes at inappropriate times. Now? Well, now I'm a survivor of the zombie apocalypse…and just barely. I've lost nearly everyone I cared about, save for my husband Jake and his siblings: Meg and Vinny. Oh, and we mustn't forget about Daphne, my Yorkshire terrier.
My life changed on October 18th. The loss of my first patient, Mary Jennings, put into motion the nasty chain of events that quickly spiraled out of control. Each time I thought things couldn't get any worse, the universe bitch-slapped me even harder. Mary Jennings may have died under my watch, but she didn't stay dead. Minutes after I left St. Vincent's Hospital, she reanimated and infected anyone unlucky enough to be in her vicinity.
Looking back, the signs had been so obvious. The ambulance driving onto the beach the day Jake surprised me with a new bike. The increase in violent attacks reported on the news. I didn't have a clue what was happening until a zombie literally knocked on my door. What I still can't wrap my brain around is the speed in which everything went from seemingly perfect, to a full-on dead world. By the time necessity forced us into action and we knew what we were up against, it was over.
Sure, the streets were plenty congested with abandoned cars, but where was the chaos? Where were the crowds of people running for their lives? Where were the fires raging unchecked? Dead, that's where. We weren't prepared for something like this; we didn't stand a chance.
So, back to October 18th, the day the world died and took a big piece of me with it. The day I had to murder my best friend, the day Jake's sister Meg saw their parents eaten, the day I lost contact with my parents, and the day that changed me forever. We barely made it to October 19th, and as we escaped our home we found Alicia, our seven
teen-year-old-neighbor, fleeing from a group of zombies. Alicia provided my first hard lesson of the new world: trust no one. She lied about being bitten and eventually turned while in the backseat. Lady luck was on our side still, and suffice it to say…we're here, and she isn't.
The past two months brought nothing but death and destruction. We thought we'd found a foothold with an army platoon at a local Target, but that illusion of safety shattered when a soldier, Sanchez, returned with a bite and hid it from the group. When we first arrived at Target we were sixty strong. The day our refuge fell, only eight of us made it onto the helicopter, nine if you include my pooch, Daphne. Jake was not among the group; he and more than fifteen men hadn’t returned from a fuel run. I never gave up hope, and I remember thinking he’s out there. But I knew he'd move heaven and earth to find me.
During our escape from Target, the zombies brought out the best, and worst, in people. Kind, old, Margie sacrificed her own life so the rest of us could live. Not a day goes by that I don't think of that woman and her selfless act of bravery—not getting into the helicopter, so that we wouldn’t surpass the weight requirement for liftoff. Sometimes, though, I wonder if it really was bravery or resignation to an inevitable fate.
I don't know what drives me to continue on, to not just walk into the road and shout I'm here! Come get me, you fuckers. It's not in me to quit, so like the Energizer bunny, I keep going, most of the time on autopilot.
After Target, our small group found safety on a houseboat. Safety. Like that word means anything nowadays, even thinking the word makes me want to roll my eyes. Safe is now a relative concept and a fleeting one at that. Life wasn't perfect, but considering what lurked outside, it was as good as it got. Our group became a family, and I would have died for any one of them.
During our time on the houseboat, we split into two groups; the men—Seth, Adam, and Lowell—would leave to forage for food, while the women—myself, Meg, Nancy, and Gabby—would usually stay behind. That's when I discovered zombies weren't the only monsters left to roam free. Hard lesson number two came in the form of two men, Dave and Mel, who charmed their way onto the boat, only to brutally attack us. We were too shocked at the sudden appearance of more survivors to think clearly. I woke to find myself gagged and bound and powerless to protect the others. If the return of our men had been even a minute later, the course of Meg's life, and her emotional stability, would have been drastically altered.
Their return was miraculous for another reason; they'd found Jake!
My husband had returned, alive, and anything but well. To this day, I still shudder when recalling his experiences while we were separated. I think that's when things really changed for me. Something inside me just clicked, and it was like someone had flipped a switch on my compassion.
Mel and Dave, attempted rapists, paid the ultimate price for their vile acts that day; we killed them, and I'd do it again. Before meeting their maker, though, they told us a story. More like a fairy tale, really. Promises of a truly safe community, isolated behind destroyed bridges and a sturdy wall. They claimed Sanibel Island had withstood the devastation and thrived with six-hundred men, women and children.
They weren't lying. It was glorious. Running water, enough food to go around, and the most safety I'd felt since the dead began coming back. Even more impressive was the tangible sense of unity on the island. The community itself was a machine, each person a cog in the wheel that made island life so successful. Everyone chipped in, and everyone was equal.
That is, of course, until everyone died...
You know that saying one bad apple spoils the whole bunch? It's true. It took only one seven-year-old girl to take down the entire island. Four of us made it back to the houseboat and off Sanibel. Team Rossi was intact, but we had lost Seth, Adam, Nancy, Gabby, Will and the rest of our tight-knit family. Adam, who had found a place in my heart, forfeited his life for mine, and I watched as Seth died a hero's death while the boat floated away from the dying island.
It seems silly to call our current circumstances lucky. Yes, just yesterday all four remaining Rossi's managed to survive the fall of Sanibel, but when I think back, the events don’t exude luck..
So, who am I? I'm Emma Rossi, and I'm alive…for now.
Chapter 01: Silent Night
I couldn’t sleep; instead my eyes remained glued to the ceiling tiles. Each time they threatened to close, I was overwhelmed by graphic images of the day's events as they flashed in rapid succession. My hand absently stroked Daphne's soft fur while Jake dozed restlessly by my side.
At some point the sun started its ascent, signaling that another day was indeed on the horizon. Dawn was sneaking up on me, and it wasn't until the light shone in my eyes and pulled me from my inky haze, that I realized it was morning. I sighed quietly and started to rise. Daphne made a soft cooing sound as she nuzzled closer to Jake.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice sounding weary.
"I didn't mean to wake you. I just can't lay in bed anymore," I confessed. "I just keep reliving yesterday over and over."
With a great deal of effort, he sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Let me get changed and I'll come with you."
I looked down at my torn and blood-stained shirt and cringed. After replacing it with a clean tee shirt, I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the corner of the room to discard later.
The boat was quiet, and the lack of sound left me feeling unsettled and anxious. Meg's door was closed and I wasn't ready to face her yet, so I passed by silently and continued into the galley. Whoever designed the layout of the boat was talented. The four bedrooms were situated at the bow, and the interior ceiling was high in the common areas, allowing the bedrooms to be split between two floors. The master bedroom and kids’ room took up the main level, and above them were two guest rooms, each with a queen-sized bed. Beyond that, the common room had a seating area and full-sized kitchen.
I tiptoed up the stairs to check on Vinny, but found both rooms empty and the beds still showed signs of Seth's handiwork. The blankets were pulled so tight I could have bounced a quarter on them. Seth had been a neat freak, and I loved to bust his balls about it. The pit in my stomach was heavier than a bowling ball. I hadn't known him long, but I was proud to count him among my inner circle. He was a good man; he deserved better.
The galley, too, was empty; the only sign that Vinny had been there was a wrinkled afghan on the floor in front of the sofa. We walked the short distance back through the sleeping quarters and climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
The month away had done nothing to improve the smell of rot. In fact, it had gotten worse. The cloying scent hit me in the face and I took a step back as if trying to avoid its path.
"Fuck, that's disgusting," I said, drawing out the word for emphasis.
Jake pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose and was blinking his eyes. "Jesus, my eyes are watering."
"Hmm," I murmured. The zombies that had been teeming on the dock last time we were here had dwindled. I only counted eight decrepit meat sacks. A few of them noticed us and were predictably reaching and calling out in dry, raspy, moans.
Vinny sat at the back of the boat, under the hardcover, staring in the direction of the zombies. He didn't acknowledge us as we joined him. Opting to not focus on the loathsome beasts, I instead sat on the vinyl bench lining the railing and gazed out at the calm ocean. The air had a crisp bite, reminding me that it was late December, and I rubbed my hands over my crossed arms to generate warmth.
The coastal breeze brought with it the faint smell of smoke, and I squinted my eyes in the direction of Sanibel. I wasn’t certain, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen billows in the distance. Maybe the island was burning; maybe it wasn't. I pondered my feelings about the possibility; and decided I wanted it to be burning. I much preferred the notion that our undead friends would be rendered inert by flames than the thought of them wandering the beaches indefinitely. They deserved some peace. Hell, we all
did.
The silence became too much for Jake and he broke it. "Hey, Vin."
"Sup," Vinny grunted, never taking his eyes from the zombies.
I looked up at my husband, who wore a dejected expression, and tightened my lips into a grim smile when he looked at me for direction.
"You okay, man?" He tried again.
His brother drained the last of the water from his bottle and resealed the cap. The label was frayed at the edges like he'd been picking at it with his nails. He didn't answer, but turned his gaze downward and stared intently at the bottle. "Fine," he replied in a clipped tone.
Jake took a deep breath and trudged on. "That was some messed up shit yesterday. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Fuck that noise," he growled. The plastic bottle crackled loudly as he twisted it between his hands and plunked it into the water in frustration. "AHHH!" he bellowed and brought his clenched fist down on the railing.
"This is fucking horse shit."
"Vin," I said in a calm tone and placed my hand on his forearm.
He pulled his arm back like my touch had burned his skin. "Get the fuck off of me." The railing shook with his violent yanks, reminding me of a caged ape at the zoo.
I looked up at Jake with concern, and he shared my expression. We both just watched as Vinny’s anger bubbled over, eventually petering out and leaving him panting. A movement at the front of the boat caught my attention and I turned my head and stood, ready to defend myself.