Blood, Brains and Bullets
By
Sean Liebling
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Electronic and Print Editions
Copyright © 2012 Sean Liebling
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the Author.
Cover Art by Shaed Studios, http://www.shaedstudios.com
Edited by: Doree Anne Morales
Please visit us at http://www.seanliebling.com
For additional content to this book, including expanded scenes and upcoming new releases.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental; any references to actual places, people, or brands are fictitious. All rights reserved.
Dedications
To all those I love and cherish in my life whether or not they supported me in this endeavor.
To all the brave men and women either currently in or having served in the Armed Forces of The United States of America, including all Police, Fire and Emergency Response personnel. From a Marine to all of you. I Salute You with Honor! Thank you for all that you do and have done.
Most of all, to those precious tiny souls and brave heroes who saw their lives cut short in the Newton, CT Massacre. More than anything this book is dedicated to all of you, and to all the children in the world. You are our future.
Author Note:
Please go to my website at http://www.seanliebling.com for all sorts of additional information including expanded sections of this book, which I reluctantly removed to keep it under 150k words. You'll find a slew of useful zombie information and weapons and techniques, including artwork and excerpts from new books coming out, plus additional information.
You know, the concept of zombies is a fascinating one. Could they actually exist and in what form? Why of course! The technology has been in routine use for at least five decades perhaps six and in this day and age of biotechnology and DNA sequencing, it would be relatively simple. A man made virus killing off most of the population is more credible but zombies do take all forms. Of the hundreds of zombie books I've read, they have resembled vampires, demons, slow walkers, fast walkers, DNA changers, and literally everything in between. At least I tried to keep mine within the realms of real science. Consultation with a close friend who happens to also be a Medical Doctor kept me on the straight and narrow. I also made a conscious effort too not include esoteric medical terminology, mainly because I do not understand all that stuff myself.
After careful consideration and real life experiences of over forty plus years, I've come to the certain conclusion that God protects fools, total jerks, and small children. That's how it really is. I also think most writers have a certain degree of angst they need to get out of their system and I'm no different from many others.
I will also say that the strategies and techniques in my book will work in real life and is the product of countless ‘BS’ sessions between myself and select others over more than a few beers or Red Stag on the rocks. Those select others do include a Medical Doctor, Psychologist, various Law Enforcement personnel and some others. Through their urging to actually keep a semblance of reality in this story, I also made the survivors within my novel a normal, real survival mix of some men, but mostly women and children. I'm not even interested if you disagree. Instead, I suggest you simply read world history of every single recorded crises event throughout the ages
I have read a great many apocalyptic books and found something useful in every single one, so kudos to all those authors. That genre fascinates me, whether I actually believe it will happen or not. The fact is that it 'could' happen. So do me a favor and stay prepared.
But most of this entire book is dedicated to all those children and heroes of the Newtown, CT. Massacre. I cried like a baby for hours as I watched it unfold. Totally un-cool, and I'm positive God has already embraced those wonderful souls.
Best always to you and yours,
Sean Liebling
Acknowledgements:
I would like to acknowledge a few people who inspired me and ultimately made me decide to write my own series of books.
Ian Woodhead. His Horror is par excellence and you can find his books on Amazon. Beware he writes with a Yorkshire accent yet does so brilliantly. You can find out more information about him and links to his books by visiting his website at:
http://www.IanWoodhead.com
Shawn Chesser. An up and coming Indie Author who's carefully crafted novels are supreme in their realism of human psychology and survival tactics in the Dawn of a Zombie Apocalypse. Just search him out on Amazon and start with 'Trudge'. You can also find him on Face Book at:
http://www.facebook.com/shawn.chesser
To my family, especially little Emma who in real life is exactly like little Emma in my book, and last of all to all my friends who provided support and encouragement during the writing process and late night monthly BS sessions before, during and after development.
Prologue
Breathing in ragged gasps, my back pressed against the side of the convenience store rack I had taken refuge against I quickly checked the mag in my Beretta. Damn, only four rounds left in this one. That left only one spare. Shaking my head at my obvious lack of planning, I holstered it and quickly drew my machete; its cold razor sharp steel hissed as it exited the leather sheath strapped to my back. What the fuck was I thinking coming here with only two extra mags and a machete, I thought to myself; as I crouched lower, the machete angled backward and upraised alongside my head in a classic Prime katana position with the edge up and blade tilted slightly downward. Who would have ever thought trying to get laid would be this complicated or dangerous?
I could hear their growling from the other side of the aisle along with the shuffling of feet. Worse, I could smell them. I crouched lower, but they were waiting instead of moving around the corner in search of me, cunning zombies now? Christ! Did they not realize they were supposed to shamble aimlessly around in slow motion and present themselves as easy targets for slaughter? I had seen all the zombie movies and this wasn't in them! Okay, there were a couple books where zombies moved fast but that was just unnatural and nontraditional.
My breath billowed out in giant plumes from the cold, visible even in the flickering lights of the emergency overheads and I tried to keep my head tilted, angling it downward. No sense in letting them know exactly where I was, I thought uselessly. The store's emergency generator was still running out back, obviously only powering a few lights, and perhaps the refrigerators and freezers, because it was cold as a witch's tit in here.
Again, feet shuffled from just around the corner. I could actually feel it moving closer to me, the stench of its presence was just ... wrong, and all pervasive. I tensed, then in a single fluid motion slid forward as my wrists twisted the blade ninety degrees sideways while automatically swinging, as I smoothly rounded the corner, in a semblance of a half remembered strike Kata, from days long gone. My eyes widened as they, ye
s they! Two of the bastards were hunched together shambling around the corner far quicker than I had anticipated. My body instinctively tried to pull back but my swing was already dedicated-- all or nothing--as I lifted my elbows automatically moving the blade into a horizontal position as I watched it arc through the air. Vaguely I noticed the zombie in front had once been a well-endowed female with an impressive display of cleavage showing. Her blouse had evidently been torn to shreds at some point and the view her two sizes too small bra showed, was simply breathtaking. I blinked. Reality check! I thought, refocusing on the task at hand, and its implications.
"Son of a bitch!" I shouted hoarsely, as the razor edge of my heavy machete cleaved through both necks just below their heads and embedded itself in the chromed steel rack, holding what looked like beef jerky. I barely felt the slight hesitation as it sheared through their spinal cords, for my swing had been full force. "Fuck! Fuck!" I shouted, as the heads arced through the air while two more of the undead quickly rounded the corner following their fellows, or whatever it was they called themselves. Time slowed with adrenal temporal distortion as I fell backward, my machete stuck in the steel rack. I released its handle, my hand flying to my side drawing my Beretta PX4, arm snapping up fist extended, as my brain tried to shut down. My mind was thinking, bowling pins, just bowling pins, as the Tritium luminous sites centered on the first creature and my finger convulsively squeezed off a round. Crack! The rounds trajectory flew short and sweet, hitting this former elderly Wesco customer in the forehead, exiting out the back of its head in a spray of blood, bone and brains. My hand was coming back down from the slight recoil as my body continued to fall in a seemingly slow motion, my aim automatically tracking on the other. This one was a slightly younger male, I thought. Who cares actually? I fired again, watching with surreal fascination as my third to last round in the clip hit this one just above its mouth below the nose, but my angle being high sent its trajectory through the top of the creatures head. The roar of my .40 washed over me with a pressure like a hard buffet of wind.
Like the others, this creature fell limply to the ground once its brain was destroyed. My shoulders and back hit the floor and time sped up as I huffed from the impact. I faintly heard the two shell casings tinkle, as they bounced on the tile floor beside me. My eyes were wide and red with fright and rage at the cunning of the half-dead bastards. One zombie was shuffling its feet while the other was moving quietly, and two more of the creatures were behind them as backup. What the hell? Are zombies using tactics? Still not too smart but amazingly cunning. With the damn undead bunching together earlier while making easy targets for me, I had almost become complacent, until I started running low on ammunition. I had been responding to the "help flag" waving in the air above Wesco. Okay, I was horny and seeing a white bra waving on the end of a shiny pole had attracted my attention and started my mind thinking. Jesus, so typically male I admit.
A damn bra on a pole sticking out of the air-conditioning duct above my local Wesco was obviously a sign for help, but holy fuck almighty, I never thought it would also make the assholes show up in droves. Well, the pole had been moving, so I suppose and from the way they arrowed in on me, movement obviously attracted them. Actually, Michael and I already knew that about them though, I simply had to remind myself not to get stupid.
I chuckled to myself as I slowly sat up, then shuffled my feet under me and rose from the floor in a crouch, very alert for any sounds or movement. They must have been after the same thing I was, only for different reasons. The hilarity of the thought was bringing tears to my eyes. Okay well, it had been awhile since I last had sex, but saving people was important also. Very important if any children were in here somewhere. Children seemed to be immune or while not completely immune, at least more resistant to the virus. I glanced up, then sheathed my Beretta, reaching for the handle of my machete, wrenching it from the tangle of racking it had made.
I smoothly moved into the next isle looking for more of the bastards as if the ten outside and eight in the store were not enough. Not bad, I thought to myself but not good either. Thirty rounds and only eighteen dead zombies did not bode well for my ammunition supply no matter how large it was. I stopped my thinking before I became distracted in tallying up my inventory back home. I needed to stay focused. The machete was raised in Prime position again, as I looked both ways not seeing, hearing, or sensing anything. I was now at the end of the racks and I spun in place, placing my back to the glass refrigerator doors. I glanced over my shoulder noticing the racks inside were empty and someone had placed cardboard behind them, obscuring any view of the inside.
Well, it made sense: any survivors would be in the freezer or refrigerator compartments. I had already checked the office for survivors without success. Well, that was not exactly true. What I had found was the manager. You know the one that always hired the young sexy women for store clerks? Well, it wasn't just him in there. Sandi was in there also, and both were naked from the waist down. Now, I had originally thought that maybe someone alive was hiding in there since the blinds were drawn but not so in fact. Upon the sight of them in their undressed condition my mind instantly visualized two naked, about to rot zombies doing the thrust and grab. I couldn't help myself as my mind betrayed me. But Sandi? She was much older and had been an employee well before the new younger male manager took over. I guess she was job scared. I had shrugged and blasted them apart as I had the two staffing the counter, as if they were still on the clock when I first walked in.
I slid sideways to the right until I was beside the backroom door, my eyes wary for any movement. Slowly I pushed it open, the door swinging inward as my blade lowered ready to stab any of the fuckers in the eye. Nobody alive was in sight, just two dead bodies on the floor in front of the big stainless steel door to the refrigerator compartment. I gave it a hefty thump with my right fist. The one holding the machete and its solid steel shank rang against the stainless steel door.
"Is anybody in there alive, dead, or almost dead?" I called out, my voice echoing through the large storage room. I kept my gaze fastened on the back door leading into the general convenience store area as I listened for a reply. I would have really freaked out if I had gotten a reply from a dead person.
"Oh my God, is that you, Jay? We heard all the shooting." I heard a muffled voice that sounded like Danielle's coming from within.
"Danielle? Is that you?"
I heard something click within the door and it slowly opened outward. I edged back prepared for anything. In the narrow opening that appeared, I saw Danielle's tiny face peer out at me and I quickly lowered my blade and smiled holding out my left hand to her.
Not one but two girls rushed out of the cold storage room as the door swung fully open. As it did a blast of hot air hit me in the face. My left arm and side were engulfed, as the two girls pressed themselves against me, both shaking and crying. Then the stench hit me. Then I noticed they were in their underwear. Correction, only Bridget was. Danielle was topless. Her bra I guess...
"Oh my god, you girls stink!" I try to step back but they wouldn’t let go. They clung like limpets, and boy did they stink like bad B.O, spoiled food, and with the smell of vomit thrown in. "And why are you in your underwear? Where are your clothes?" I asked.
"We've been in that oven for days what do you expect?" Bridget, the other girl, slurred without letting go and if anything clung tighter to me, her almost naked body molding itself against mine. Well normally, this would turn me on as you wouldn’t believe, especially with Bridget. She was HOT with a capital H.O.T: a raven-haired petite beauty, about 5'6" with a body that wouldn't stop. I was always trying to guess if she was a large C-cup or a small D. Hard to tell on some women but, Oh my God, the ass she had! It was still hard to tell her cup size with her tits squashed against my side. Wow, my tongue was numb. Still, something was wrong as Danielle started singing softly under her breath.
"What is wrong with you girls? Have you gone crazy? Where are your clothes?" I
muttered, as I tried unsuccessfully to turn off my olfactory senses. Danielle stopped singing while Bridget burrowed her face in my neck.
"You try living in a six by sixteen foot refrigerator for days with nothing to drink but beer and nothing to eat but rotting burritos and cheese." Danielle paused. "I broke the thermostat trying to make it warmer. But it just got really hot and we couldn't come out because the monsters were out here. But we were able to push a pole we found up through a vent in the ceiling to let out some of the heat."
"And the smell?" but I guessed the pole through the ceiling had given them the bra help flag idea.
"Sometimes at first we drank too much beer. It's all we had to drink. We sold out of everything else but beer before things went bad and the monsters started coming in." She smiled meekly and again started singing softly, as Bridget continued her full body wrap hug thing she currently had going on. A sweet warm breath filled my ear as Bridget's head tilted upward next to mine, her lips by my ear. "At first we kept warm by holding each other. Then it got too hot to even stay dressed." she murmured. My mind swirled and of course, the usual thoughts filled it. I couldn't help myself. My hand slide down her lower back and cupped her ass giving it a good squeeze. She was wearing black boy-short briefs, which accentuated her hair wonderfully, and that ass was firm. I swear to God my hand sizzled when it touched that ass, she was that HOT. Yes, I fully took advantage of the life and death situation we found ourselves in and without any shame whatsoever. She did not pull away. Woo-Hoo!
"Wow. Two drunk sexy girls and one horny guy. God really loves me!" I raised my head and nodded in respect to the creator of all things.
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