Dying Days Ultimate Box Set 1

by Armand Rosamilia

  Austin pushed away a zombie that tried to bite his arm.

  There were at least eight around them, and two fell to the ground and bit into Colleen. She didn't even scream. Austin threw punches, screaming at the zombies as he did. One of them clamped onto his foot as it went down and bit into his calf. Austin kicked away but it was too late.

  Austin stayed with Colleen and went down fighting; because that was the way he was raised.

  Dying Days: Jerry Masiello

  Jerry Masiello had survived on the streets of New York as a kid. He'd run with a bad crowd but never lost his way, and he'd prided himself on being his own man. Some called him a hustler and he wore the title with pride, because he hustled his ass off to make things work for him.

  Right now, though, things weren't looking so good.

  His bar, Farley's Irish Pub, was trashed. There were zombies roaming the courtyard of European Village, and he'd slept through it upstairs in his office. He wasn't a light sleeper. But even he had to smile. He'd slept through a crippling attack on their safe haven.

  There was a fire burning across the courtyard but it was already dying out. Two zombies roamed in the smashed doorway. Jerry stepped up with his Louisville Slugger (a Reggie Jackson model he still had from his youth) and bashed their brains in while simultaneously pushing them out the door so the gore wouldn't stain his floor.

  Jerry needed to assess the damage, but first he needed a drink. There were only a few bottles left behind the counter and he and Mort used them to barter for needed items. But there was also a secret stash in the kitchen. Unless Mort had gotten into it in the last few days.

  Where was Mort, anyway? He was going to be pissed when he saw the damage in the bar. Mort and his former business partner had opened Farley's years ago, and when Farley himself had passed away Jerry stepped in. He was quite proud of the growth they'd experienced. Until the world decided to end.

  Now, he had a trashed front end to contend with. The front doors were going to be a bitch to replace, and he didn't want to put up plywood and block the sun. Without electricity, the bar was hot enough in the Florida sun. Blocking the breeze sweeping through the compound would make Farley's a sauna.

  Jerry rubbed his balding head and sighed. "Really?"

  There was a crawling corpse in the kitchen, both legs useless and dragging behind it. At the sound of Jerry talking it turned and banged against the deep fryer.

  I need to get this thing outside so I don't have to clean it up, Jerry thought. This is ridiculous. "Follow me, buddy. Or… lady. Whatever you were." Jerry walked slowly, baseball bat on his shoulder, and made sure he was being followed.

  He picked up two overturned bar stools and set them in place. One of the tables had been pushed over, so he up righted it. A glance told him the zombie hadn't even cleared the kitchen area yet. Jerry wondered if he could get close enough to grab onto it and drag it outside, but didn't want to take a chance. Instead, he moved into the other hallway near the bathrooms and found the broom and dustpan.

  Jerry stepped over the reaching hands of the zombie and went to the front door. Outside he couldn't see anyone moving. He could smell the burning flesh and the smoke but it wasn't bad. European Village would survive. He began sweeping up the glass from the ruined door.

  He was able to clean it up, take the door off its hinges and put the pieces on one of the tables in hopes he could repair it with another door.

  The zombie was halfway out the door when Jerry took a seat and wiped his forehead. The sun was brutal today. "Hurry up already."

  Jerry stood and walked across the way to the grass, now overgrown and brown. He'd dispose of the zombie off the brick pathway. Might as well do it right.

  "Here, zombie zombie," Jerry said and laughed at his stupid joke. After this he would go back into the kitchen and have a warm banana bread beer. He'd earned it.

  Just as the zombie got fully onto the grass Jerry swung the bat and crushed its head, the brains streaming through the crack.

  He moved inside, glad to be out of the sun. Jerry went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. It was empty. "What the hell?" Mort and Jerry had placed six bottles of liquor there: two Jack Daniels, a Jack Daniels Honey and three different vodka brands. There also should have been a pitcher of banana bread beer they'd saved from the last tap of it. "Mort, I'm going to kill you."

  He heard a shuffling sound in the bar.

  Jerry went back out and saw Mort step through where the door used to be. He was about to yell at him and ask what he did with the stash, but he saw the blank look on his business partner's face.

  Mort opened his bloody mouth as he shuffled forward.

  The Louisville Slugger came off of Jerry's shoulder. It felt too heavy in his hands.

  Authors Interview with BB&BS

  You’re reading the afterword to Dying Days: Siege 2. This is the only book willing to let a podcast do an author interview in print format. Please allow us to introduce ourselves, the interviewers, Mr. Frank and Mr. Jeff from the Books, Beer and Bullshit Podcast.

  Way back in June of 2012, we had the privilege of interviewing Armand Rosamilia on our podcast. Armand’s appearance on our show still ranks as one of the most successful and memorable interviews in our catalog. Armand has gone on to become a big part of the culture of our show and we’ve developed an off-air kinship as well.

  Fast forward to July of 2013 and Armand Rosamilia introduces us to his friend and collaborator, Tim Baker. We did an interview with both Tim and Armand and once again it was an unforgettable interview. Tim and Armand’s chemistry is unmistakable both on the printed page and in real life.

  In fact Tim and Armand had so much fun with their last appearance on Books, Beer and Bullshit Podcast that they asked if we would like to conduct the interview at the back of their new book.

  This is that book that you’ve just finished reading and this is the interview that you’re about to indulge in which we were only too happy to be a part of in this fun collaboration.

  MF&MJ: Armand, is it hard to write in the Dying Days world? Does Tim Baker have that special something that allows him to write seamlessly here or us this a world primed for fan fiction?

  Armand: It is so easy to write in the Dying Days world, especially when you know the basic rules of how the world runs. Tim Baker forced me to let him write his part of the story or else he'd keep whining and buying me jewelry. I have too much bling already. Is it primed for fan fiction? Maybe. We'll see. In fact, get ready for Still Dying 2, which features eight great authors writing stories set in the Dying Days world: Patrick C. Greene, Brent Abell, Jaime Johnesee, AD Roland, Sean Slagle, Mark Tufo, Frank Edler and Tim Baker (those last 2 or 3 forced me to let them into the anthology).

  Tim: Pffftt…he begged me – I have witnesses.

  MF&MJ: Tim, will these stories carry back over into your world? Do these Ike and Brewskis exist in another plane of existence from Tim Baker's world?

  Tim: Ike and Brewski are key characters in my series of thrillers and yes I plan to have these stories carry over into that world…most likely as a dream sequence for Ike. It will be my concession to Mando – because he asked me to have Ike dreaming about him.

  MF&MJ: Armand, you've shown that Tim Baker can play in your world, do you think you could write successfully in a Tim Baker universe?

  Armand: I'm sure I could forget to add some commas to a story. And use smaller words and fragment sentences, and tell bad jokes and… actually, I am quite fond of Tim Baker's world and I've snuck in Ike in one of my Flagler Beach Fiction Series stories. Someday maybe Tim Baker will stop being so selfish and let me write in his world, since I've opened up the doors to not only Dying Days but also my heart.

  Tim: I didn’t know you cared…I would love to do a similar project where Darlene and John team up with Ike and Brewski in my world. To tell the truth, I assumed Mando was too important to be seen working my side of the street.

  Armand: I couldn't agree more.

  MF&MJ: Fo
r both of you, is there room for further collaborations here?

  Armand: I sure hope so. I'd like to think we can keep rewriting this same damn story over and over and rip off as many people as we can and get as much money before people realize Dying Days: Siege 182 is just the same old story over and over.

  Tim: Yeah – what he said. Look how far Sylvester Stallone got with his endless remakes of “War of the Roses”.

  MF&MJ: Though you both write differently, you are not only great collaborators, but great friends, what is at the core of what makes Tim Baker and Armand Rosamilia a great writing team?

  Armand: He's in love with me. Oh, and we have the same stupid sense of humor but also we understand the differences between us. For instance, I have slightly less hair than Tim.

  Tim: He kids… the true story is we met in a karaoke bar (hosted by DJ Vern Shank). Mando wanted to sing Mockingbird by Carly Simon but needed someone to do the James Taylor parts. I volunteered and the audience loved us. We knew right away that we had a special chemistry.

  Armand: This entire time I thought I was singing the James Taylor parts. Next you'll tell me I was Sonny and not Cher.

  Tim: I didn’t see the need to hurt your feelings

  MF&MJ: You have populated this book and its predecessor with real life people you've come in contact with, how important has that aspect become to this series?

  Armand: It's been a blast. In this book, as you have clearly just read (and cried and shed tears of joy over its brilliance), we have added a few new people to the mix. And then killed most of them, which is always fun.

  Tim: It’s important to add that we only killed the people we don’t like in real life.

  Part of the fun of being interviewed on Books, Beer and Bullshit Podcast are the offbeat and irreverent questions we tend to ask. A good measure of a great guest is how well they roll with our stupidity. With that spirit in mind we pose the following questions to Tim and Armand:

  MF&MJ: Armand, what is the best thing you’ve ever smelled on the tip of your finger?

  Armand: Bette Midler.

  MF&MJ: Tim, if you had to choose between coffee or beer to drink for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

  Tim: Tea – made by Sam Adams

  MF&MJ: Armand, if you could be a washed up B-list celebrity for a day, who would you like to be?

  Armand: Besides Eddie Money? The Rock.

  MF&MJ: Chewbacca or Charlie the Tuna?

  Armand: Yes.

  Tim: Charlie the Tuna but only if he is wearing the Princess Leia bikini outfit.

  MF&MJ: If you guys were cast in an off Broadway production of The Walking Dead, who would play Rick and who would be The Governor?

  Armand: I would definitely be Andrea. I also have a nice butt in a thong.

  Tim: What is The Walking Dead?

  Armand: Tim only gets MASH references.

  Tim: Ahhh….Bach

  The Books, Beer and Bullshit Podcast can be heard at http://booksbeerbullshit.podbean.com or via Stitcher Smart Radio app available for all Apple and Android devices.

  In addition to the podcast, we also maintain a blog called Books, Beer and BLOGshit. It can be read at http://booksbeerblogshit.blogspot.com

  Follow us on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/booksbeerandbullshitpodcast and on Twitter @BooksBeerBS

  Pump It Up (Preview)

  Tim Baker

  2

  Dave Ryan pushed his way through the crowd of drunk dancers and tapped Ken on the shoulder.

  “I have to go to the car and get my sweatshirt,” he yelled over the sound of the band. “Give me the keys.”

  Without stopping his dancing, Ken handed him the car keys with a thumbs-up, then leaned in to scream in Dave’s ear.

  “Melissa’s taking me to her place, you take my car and have a good time,” he said with a wide grin, moving his eyes toward Melissa’s friend Stephanie, Dave’s date for the evening.

  Dave fought his way off the dance floor toward the exit, but Stephanie intercepted him at the bar.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “Can I come with? I could use a little quiet time.”

  Her smile told Dave that she wanted to be alone with him and the hand on his chest let him know why, unfortunately, she couldn’t take a hint.

  “No, that’s okay,” he told her. “The car is about half-a-mile down A1A. I’ll probably jog.”

  Her wounded expression struck a chord in him.

  “I’ll be right back, you stay here and hold our seats,” he lied. “Have another drink.”

  He laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar and headed for the stairs. Although he was enjoying the atmosphere on the roof-top deck of Finn’s, he couldn’t stand her for another minute. She was like a human octopus that wouldn’t stop talking.

  The band sang “Suffragette City” as he walked away and he was slightly disappointed he would miss the song since the singer was doing a very passable Bowie. He smiled at the irony when the singer belted the line “…wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

  Not tonight, he thought.

  He trotted down the “U” shaped stairs and walked north as quickly as he could. Four blocks away he could still hear the band, they had moved on to “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting.”

  In truth, he didn’t need his sweatshirt—what he needed was an excuse to get away from Stephanie. Ken’s intentions were good—he was just trying to make Dave’s vacation in Florida a little more pleasant. The plan might have worked if he could have found a girl whose knowledge of world events wasn’t limited to what was printed in People magazine or seen on Jersey Shore. It was only nine o’clock but Dave was more than willing to go back to Ken’s place and watch a baseball game.

  Despite Ken’s best efforts, Dave’s vacation wasn’t shaping up to be anything spectacular so far. Ken was under the mistaken idea that Dave’s primary goal was getting laid. Dave, on the other hand, did not come to Florida on a “snatch-hunt”, as Ken had so eloquently put it. His vacation in Florida was more of an escape from Gina. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gina—on the contrary, he did like her. Unfortunately, Gina didn’t understand the difference between like and love. Three months into the relationship and she was naming their children. A clear-cut signal to Dave it was time for him to move on.

  That, and the fact that he was constantly fighting an attraction to Gina’s sister Barb.

  Barb was everything Gina wasn’t…better looking, more fun and not interested in commitment—the ideal woman. If only he had met Barb first.

  It was all water under the bridge though. He was in Florida, no responsibilities, no clingy woman and no schedule.

  The weather was a big plus. Right now Rhode Island was enjoying chilly October temperatures—daytime highs in the low 60’s nights in the 40’s—while here in Flagler Beach the daytime temperatures hovered in the 80’s and the night time lows didn’t dip below 65.

  Dave walked on the west side of A1A just north of State Road 100, his pace casual since he had nowhere to go. An elderly couple approached him; in front of them was a Golden Retriever who appeared intent on sniffing every square inch of the sidewalk.

  They exchanged hellos as they passed. The retriever ran his nose quickly over Dave’s shoe and back to the sidewalk. Dave bent and gave him a quick head-rub, which the dog acknowledged with a snort—although the snort may have been from something he inhaled off the sidewalk, Dave couldn’t be sure.

  Less than a hundred yards to his right the soothing sound of waves washing ashore had replaced the sound of the band from Finn’s. For no particular reason he decided he would like to sit in one of the vacant life-guard chairs on the beach and bask under the Florida stars.

  After passing a small, partially-renovated building he stopped at the intersection of 10th Street North and A1A. If he turned left onto 10th street he could be at Ken’s house, on the couch watching the play-offs in fifteen minutes, but for some reason the ocean seemed more appealing. He waited for a break in traffic barely
noticing the car turning into the driveway from 10th Street.

  From the parking lot behind him he heard the sound of car doors opening and closing, followed by the sound of a trunk lid being opened. Out of curiosity he turned to see what could be going on. The building was under construction, there shouldn’t be anybody there this time of night.

  The silhouetted figures of a man and a woman moved to the trunk of a dark-colored four-door sedan. Dave watched as they leaned in and began wrestling with something in the trunk, probably to toss it into the dumpster next to the car. He wondered what it was they didn’t want their trash man to see.

  “Jesus,” he whispered when he saw the two people carrying the object to the dumpster.

  Moving behind the trunk of a thick palm tree, he crouched in the shadows and watched. There was no moon, but the lights from A1A were enough to confirm his suspicion. The two figures carried the body of a woman, naked from the waist down, to the dumpster and tossed it in.

  The smaller of the two, who was definitely a man, flipped the plastic lid of the dumpster closed and wiped his hands. The other one, who was much bigger and more masculine but had the shape of a woman, went to the car and reached into the trunk.

  “You forgot her clothes,” Dave heard in a husky whisper.

  The amazon-ish figure walked to the dumpster, lifted the lid and dropped the clothes of the dead woman inside.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Dave whispered.

  As the two people turned toward their car the worst possible thing in the world happened—Dave’s cell phone rang—probably Ken wondering where he was. Dave fumbled with the phone as the man by the car said “What the fuck was that?”