“Now we survive,” Nolan replied as he stepped closer to me. “Together.”
I gripped my knife tighter as the zombies continued to surround us. I was ready now. I had made my first kill, but it for damned sure wouldn’t be my last.
Episode Four coming December 5th
Stay tuned…
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Claire C. Riley is a USA Today and international bestselling author.
She’s a genre jumping book nerd who likes to write about psycho stalkers, alpha males and the strong women that love them, moody anti-heroes, and the end of the bloody world! A lover of all things dark and dirty, she likes to write books that f**k with your heart, and your head.
She lives in the United Kingdom with her husband, three daughters and ridiculously naughty rescue beagle aka Dogface.
She also really likes drinking cheap instant coffee, because she’s not a coffee snob like Elizabeth. (wink wink)
Also by Claire C. Riley
Post-Apocalypse:
Odium I – VI The Dead Saga.
Odium Origins 0.5, 1.5, 2.5
Out of the Dark #1
Red Eye The Armageddon Series - co-authored with Eli Constant
Paranormal Romance:
Limerence. (The Obsession Series)
Limerence II (The Obsession Series)
Twisted Magic Raven’s Cove
Thriller:
Beautiful Victim
Horror:
Blood Claim
MC Romance:
Ride or Die a Devil’s Highwaymen series
Nomad the Devil’s Highwaymen Series:
Crank #1, Sketch #2, Battle #3, Fighter #4, Cowboy #5
New Adult Romance:
Wrath #3 the Elite Seven Series
Short Stories/Anthology contributions
Lockdown
Treasured Chests
Lets Scare Cancer to Death
Painted Mayhem
State of Horror Illinois
Co-Authored Books
With Madeline Sheehan
Post-Apocalyptic:
Thicker than Blood #1
Beneath Blood and Bone #2
Contemporary Romance:
Shut Up & Kiss Me
With Eli Constant
Apocalyptic:
Red Eye The Armageddon Series
Season One
Available in paperback, eBook and audiobook and almost all in Kindle Unlimited!
CONTACT LINKS:
Website: www.clairecriley.com
Claire C. Riley FB page: https://www.facebook.com/ClaireCRileyAuthor/
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GDpF3I
Reader Group: Riley’s Rebels: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ClaireCRileyFansGroup/
Newsletter Sign-up: http://bit.ly/2xTY2bx
IG: https://www.instagram.com/redheadapocalypse/
@ClaireCRiley
Eli Constant also writes as Eliza Grace.
Eli adores all things quirky, eats ice cream with a fork, and likes warm Dr. Pepper (on a cool day). She once thought she'd marry Martin Short... until she discovered Alan Rickman. #Always (She might also have Martin Freeman and Simon Pegg on her 'I get a pass' list. And, please, don't get her started on Jeff Godblum... erhm, Goldblum. #lifefindsaway).
The most important things to her are family, friends, books, and dresses with pockets. Typically in that order. Also really, really good coffee (winks at Claire).
Available Books by Eli Constant:
The Victoria Cage Necromancer Series,
The Dead Trees Series,
The Water is Sweeter,
To Scream Within a Dream,
and many more…
Available Books by Eliza Grace:
The Shadow Forest Series,
The Birthright,
A Shade of Hades (Book 1 coming 2020)
Available Co-authored Books:
Scatter My Ashes,
Darwin’s Fall (re-releasing soon),
and more…
*
Stalk Eli Constant on social media:
Website: www.authoreliconstant.com
Newsletter: https://www.authoreliconstant.com/newsletter-subscription
Reader Group: Beastly Books & Badass Readers: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1996067960679574/
Twitter: @Author_EliC
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorEliConstant/
Books on Amazon: https://amzn.to/30Y0KJk
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2LWSiGj
MORE FROM THE AUTHORS
Have you read…
THICKER THAN BLOOD
By
USA Today Bestselling Authors
Claire C. Riley & Madeline Sheehan
‘Once upon a time there were two friends who promised never to let go of each other, or the past.’
Read on for a sneak peek.
About the book
Leisel and Evelyn lost everything. Husbands. Families. Friends. Lives that made sense. All they had left was each other, and a friendship that could withstand anything…
Even an apocalypse.
Until one fateful night, the marginal safety they’d come to rely on comes to a vicious and brutal end. With the help of Alex and Jami, both unlikely allies, Leisel and Evelyn are able to escape their shattered sanctuary only to find themselves face-to-face with a much altered, much crueler life where they have to find the way—and the will—to stay alive in a world they no longer recognize.
Traveling across a broken and infection-ridden country, the road-weary group is pitted against endless violence, improbable circumstances, and the ultimate loss.
Everything comes at a price, especially safety, the cost of which could very well strip them of the one thing they’ve tried so hard to cling to—their humanity.
Yet along with all the trials they’re forced to endure, there’s also hope in the form of love. Having loved Leisel from afar, Alex attempts to put the pieces of her fractured heart back together.
But in such a savage world, is there room for love?
In a place of nightmares-made-reality, where the living should be feared far more than the dead, an unbreakable friendship and a love against all odds can mean the difference between life and death.
There are friends…
and then there are Leisel and Evelyn.
Prologue
The zombie apocalypse didn’t happen like it does in the movies.
Disaster didn’t strike when we weren’t looking. No, we were all looking. We were all waiting. It was a slow trickle that began with a nightly news broadcast. Yet another disease, another epidemic, was sweeping through the third world with crippling effects, decimating entire villages within mere days. The Vaal Fever they’d called it, and it took no mercy on its victims. Men, women, and children alike were ravaged by the disease, and most perished as a result.
Only, they didn’t stay dead.
They awoke and attacked the survivors, spreading the virus through both their saliva and blood. And what could we do? Like all the other pandemics we’d lived through, we could do nothing but hope that the Centers for Disease Control could put a stop to it, or that the armed forces would protect us and ensure it wouldn’t spread. So we hoped and we waited, trying not to worry.
We went about our daily lives. Like usual, we woke up every morning, we went to work and to school, we continued talking, laughing, living. But in the back of our minds, we were waiting. Seven billion people were all waiting.
That slow trickle grew, becoming a flood as more reports streamed in from all over the world. As a nation, we stayed glued to our radios, to our televisions, to the Internet, watching helplessly as the pandemic continued to spread. After that, governments worldwide took aggressive action to stop the disease from entering their countries. Airports shut down, shipping companies refused to sail, importing and exporting were no more.
Then the floodgates broke, and we learned the truth.
There was no treatment. There was no cure.
When we got word that the disease had found its way to Europe and South America, panic—birthed from fear and helplessness—turned to violence. The American army wasn’t big enough, wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t prepared enough for the sheer magnitude of the public outcry. Because of their lack of planning, a civil war broke out between the army and the citizens they were meant to protect.
As a result, entire cities went down in flames before the disease had even reached American soil. But when it did, when the first American fell to his knees, the government was ill prepared for the fallout and the sickness spread like wildfire. Indiscriminate, it took the weak, the strong, the young, and the old.
Before long, news reports and radio broadcasts were no more. The airwaves were filled with nothing but static. Our neighborhoods, our cities and states, the entire country, the whole world—all went silent.
When the world awoke again, it awoke with a rattling groan that promised only misery and loss.
And eventually death.
Chapter One
Leisel
There was blood everywhere—on the bed, on the walls, on the floor. Some had even managed to find its way to the ceiling.
I looked down at my red-stained hands, at my naked body. It was all over me, coating the pale freckled skin on my arms, torso, legs, and feet. It was everywhere.
I hadn’t seen so much blood in one place in…well, not in the past four years since I’d been living in this sanctuary from the outside world.
A small, manic laugh escaped my dry and scratchy throat, bubbling past my lips. A sanctuary? Well, it might be for most, but that wasn’t the case for everyone, and least of all for me.
This place, Fredericksville, a once small and quiet town, and my current home, was one of the last known functioning towns left in the country. And for all intents and purposes, it was a safe place to live. Families survived within, protected by fortified walls and guarded by armed men who kept us safe from the numerous threats from outside. We had a leader, one man, and a council of sorts composed of a small group of men who created our laws. Together they devised a system of checks and balances to keep the peace.
Everyone had a job to do, determined by whatever skills one possessed in the old world. Women who could sew were still sewing, and teachers like myself were still teaching. Men who could build were still building, chefs were still cooking, farmers were still farming, police were still policing, soldiers were still fighting, officials were still officiating.
And our leader…
I looked up, away from my bloodied skin and across the dimly lit room to where an equally naked and bloodied body lay still on the bed. My husband, Lawrence Whitney, the leader of our community…was now dead and no longer leading.
Another laugh bubbled up and my eyes began to water. I’d killed my husband, a man who wasn’t just a man but was the man in charge, the most powerful man in my world. And no matter how broken this world might be, murder was still a crime, at least behind these walls, and subsequently punishable by death.
There would be no trial, no defense attorney to help me present my tale of woe to a jury of my peers, to showcase the bruises, new and old, that covered my body. No one would help me explain the real reason why my visits to the infirmary were more frequent than most, why I often had one arm in a sling, why sunglasses always hid my eyes, and why I could occasionally be seen hobbling on a pair of crutches.
When it came to committing murder in this new world, the only thing one had to look forward to was death. Without the resources or space to house a long-term prison, the people of Fredericksville had little choice but to quickly and efficiently end the lives of their violent offenders.
I’d known this, and still I’d allowed my emotions to get the better of me. Allowed my pain to cloud my judgment. Allowed my fear to take control, to rear its ugly head and end the source of my misery, my prison, once and for all.
Oh God, why? Why had I done this, and here in our home of all places? There was no escape, no running and hiding from this mess I’d made. Not within the confines of a walled town, surrounded by armed men. The very same men who would be at our door at the first sign of morning light, ready to escort my husband on his daily duties, only to find him brutally murdered. And me, the bloodstained and obvious culprit.
If they didn’t kill me outright, I would be taken into custody immediately, not allowed to see or speak to anyone. Within an hour of my apprehension, my crime would be known to all. Word traveled fast in such a small community, especially one with little in the way of modern entertainment. There was no television to be watched, no cell phones to keep us busy, and what little electricity that was harnessed from the nearby river was used solely for communication purposes within Fredericksville, lighting the community buildings, and providing a small amount of refrigeration in the cookhouse. Face-to-face gossip was our only source of entertainment, because it was all we had left.
I had a day left, maybe two, until everyone would be gathered on the main drag, where justice would be swiftly meted out. A public execution, a single bullet to my head, would provide a warning to all who might at some point be inclined to take the law into their own hands as I had so stupidly done.
The infection had efficiently ended society as we’d known it. In the midst of the destruction, a new world had arisen with a survival-of-the-fittest, better-him-than-me philosophy, the sort of archaic thinking that asserted that men and women were not equals. As for justice, it too was a thing of the past. We simply survived.
I sank to the cold tile floor, dropping to my knees with my arms outstretched in supplication. But who my pleading was for, I didn’t know. Did we fall to our knees when we knew we had nothing left, nowhere else to go but down? Was I subconsciously asking God for mercy, for forgiveness, or for a savior?
My thoughts were scrambled, the fear at the forefront of my mind muddling everything else.
“Why?” I whispered to the floor. “Why…”
Confused, I was unable to finish my question, not knowing what my question was. Or maybe I did know, maybe I knew exactly what my question was. Maybe I wasn’t asking why this particular and most recent tragedy had happened, but why it had all happened.
All of it. Why any of this had happened.
But there were no answers to be found. There never were.
Only emptiness. And consequences.
I wished with all my heart that I could have been stronger. Able to endure this new world, this new reality, with equanimity and grace.
As I stared off into nothing, I thought of Evelyn, my beautiful and courageous friend. Evelyn had endured as much as I had, been forced from her quiet, happy life as I had, had also lost the man she loved, and alongside me had been thrust into this cruel and cold world. Like me, she had been forced to marry a man she hadn’t loved, forced to live a life she hadn’t wanted. She had been forced to become a woman she wasn’t. Had never known how to be.
But unlike me, she hadn’t crumpled. She’d become an even stronger version of herself. Evelyn was capable of taking on whatever misery life decided to throw her way, embracing it even, utilizing it, molding it to her liking, and forever persevering.
I had done the opposite. Grief had consumed me, caused me to turn in on myself instead of facing my demons head-on. They’d piled up inside and eaten away at me, rendered me useless, unable to function properly, and created a whole new set of hardships.
My demons were always growing, welling up within me, until they were too many—too many to name or count, let alone deal with.
And so I’d snapped, unable to take another second
of it. Of this life. Of his fist colliding with my face, of his body crudely taking what I wasn’t offering, of his harsh words often followed by laughter and scorn. I’d snapped.
And there my consequences lay. Bloody. Mangled. Dead on our marriage bed. But even dead and finally silent, I could still hear his laughter. It echoed loudly throughout this old building, bouncing off the walls, coming at me from every direction.
You’re worthless, Leisel. You’re nothing. No one. Do you hear me? You’re nothing, Leisel, nothing! You’re a hole to fuck, a pretty face and an empty head. A stupid, good-for-nothing…
And his hand would crack across my face, causing me to stumble, to cry out in pain and fall at his feet. He would laugh again and again. Call me more names. Blame me for my inability to produce a child. And then more tears would fall.
From those tears of pain and humiliation came the worst consequence of all. My pain, my anguish, and my agony made him feel his most powerful, victorious, and like all men who succumbed to bloodlust, I was his prize to be taken.
Only tonight, there had been too many tears. Too much pain. And while he’d continued to ravage me, hurting me, suddenly I’d gone numb to it all. Numb and then…angry.
And as he slept, I’d paced. I’d mumbled, crying, cradling the sore places on my body. I’d paced until the anger had taken over, too many thoughts inside of me, too many voices shouting at me, too much pain radiating from my skin and from my broken heart, too many unanswered questions spiraling around and around, and then all of a sudden I could no longer bear it, bear another second of hearing him snore so peacefully, without a care in the world, after my world had been destroyed and he’d forced me into his world, his world of misery, of my misery, and suddenly the knife he kept in his boot was glaring at me from across the room, a shiny beacon in the fog that I’d become, and the beacon was beckoning me, screaming at me until it was all I could hear, all I could see, and so I took that knife from its sheath and I held it above my husband’s body and as tears poured down my face, angry and full of determination, regardless of the consequences, I brought that knife down and drove it into his heart.
Red Eye | Season 1 | Episode 3 Page 8