by Morris, Jacy
The dead had no idea about ice and physics. They piled onto the frozen surface of the ice with no concern for its integrity. Behind him, from the direction he had come from, there was another gunshot, and he heard one of the dead fall to the ice. There was a great crack, and Allen used the last of his energy to push himself to his feet. They were waiting there on the other side of the river, waving at him with their hands.
He didn't look behind him, but he heard more gunshots, more bodies hitting the ice. Underneath his feet, he saw cracks spiderwebbing through the surface, spreading faster than he could run. The ice broke underneath him, and he plunged into the water, his balls immediately shrinking to the size of peas as the frigid river washed over him.
Not like this, he managed to think before the river swept over him, pulling him under. He struggled to grab something, anything, but then he was under the ice, locked away from the air he needed to breathe. Under the water, he tried to struggle free from his backpack, from his rifle, from the hatchet. These things weighed him down. His exhausted body scrabbled at the ice above. He tried to punch through but could manage no leverage with his weakened arms. His lungs burned, and then he understood that this was the end for him. The light faded from his eyes, and he gave up the fight, choking and coughing. The river kept flowing, carrying bodies to the west.
Epilogue: The Roar of a Million Lions
The Seaside Lighthouse still stood, though Rhodri had seen enough cracks in the foundation to question the sensibility of standing atop it. He knew that it wouldn't be his home for much longer.
Captain Schwenk stood on the prow of his ship, overlooking the roiling waters. Another boat came in, loaded down with people. They rowed like mad, the waves crashing over them, and the boat bobbing on the deep swells of the Pacific.
Thirty people stood on the beach. There were more shapes than that moving down there, but only thirty of them were living people. The people ran upslope, towards the town of Seaside, dodging the dead, swinging makeshift weapons at them before plowing onward, away from the beach.
The rowboat dropped off its latest load of passengers, and they too took to their heels, flying across the sand, though from this distance, it looked like nothing more than a crawl.
In the distance, the horizon changed. It darkened somehow, and Rhodri turned to look. It was the ocean rising up. He placed his hands on the railing, and his jaw fell. He realized he was looking at a giant tsunami, still very far out, but it was coming.
There was nothing to do now but watch. The rowboat wouldn't get back to the ship in time. Maybe that was a good thing. He watched that gray swell in the distance roll on underneath the cloudy sky. It came fast. He tried to calculate how fast it was moving, how tall it was, but the numbers were too big in his mind.
A roar shook the day as billions of gallons of water hurtled towards the beach. He was safe where he was, but that gave him no comfort, as everyone below would be dead soon. The base of the lighthouse stood some 80 feet above the ocean, so he should be alright.
He watched as the crew of the Gypsy Drifter scrambled about on deck, tightening hatches and then disappearing. The ship drifted slowly, counterclockwise, lining itself up with the wave that came at them. But the tsunami hurtled across the ocean at such a speed that the Gypsy Drifter was still slightly canted when the wave hit. It was picked up like a child's toy boat in a bathtub. It rode the wave forward, shipping containers slipping from its deck.
With his binoculars, he lensed the bridge of the ship, and he saw Captain Schwenk standing there, screaming like a child on a rollercoaster. But this was no amusement park ride. The ship tumbled over, and the Captain was gone, but still, the wave came, with a roar like a million lions.
It washed over the beach, the dead and the living disappearing in one fell swoop, and then it rushed through the closest buildings of the town, crashing over them, and just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the water rushed through the streets foaming until it became a sea of white. He watched cars pushed like Legos. The buildings on the edge of town were turned to scrap and forced through the streets.
His own lighthouse shook from the impact of the ocean on the spur of the hill below him. But he was in too much awe to worry about the lighthouse crumbling beneath him. He watched the power of the wave as it swept away hundred-year-old buildings in a second. The ground beneath him shook, and he realized it wasn't the ground that was shaking. This was not an aftershock. It was the building below him. He heard the first tumble of brick from the lighthouse as it clanged its way down the spiral staircase. It was followed by another, and then another. The lighthouse was unraveling beneath him.
He watched the Gypsy Drifter as it came to rest half a mile into the city, sandwiched between two buildings and perched like Noah's Ark on Mount Ararat.
Rhodri marveled at the power of nature, at the forces that man could never hope to fight against. Gravity was another of those forces, and as the Seaside Lighthouse let out one more terrible groan, it took hold of the weakened lighthouse and drove it to the ground, Rhodri with it.
A Word From Jacy
Thank you for reading This Rotten World: Winter of Blood. If you've made it this far, I'm guessing you enjoyed the ride. Please leave a review! As an indie author, the only marketing I receive is from fellow readers like you!
If you enjoyed This Rotten World: Winter of Blood, you might enjoy my other apocalyptic novel, The Drop. It's a sprawling tale told through a combination of news articles, journal entries, and other weird media. It's the tale of a world felled by the music of a boyband. Other than my This Rotten World series, it's probably my most popular novel, and it's my own personal favorite. It is available to buy and also free as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription.
I am currently working on the final chapter of This Rotten World, This Rotten World: Choking on the Ashes. It should be ready to go by the beginning of 2021.
Click the links below to check out The Drop!
THE DROP
Get Free Stuff from Jacy Morris
Building a relationship with my readers is super important to me. Please join my newsletter for information on new books and deals plus all this free content:
1. A free copy of This Rotten World: Part One.
2. A free copy of The City That Never Was, a horror novella inspired by real life.
3. A free copy of The Pied Piper of Hamelin, a twisted fairy tale like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
You can get your content for free, by signing up here!
Also By Jacy Morris
In the This Rotten World Series
This Rotten World
A sickness runs rampant through the world. In Portland, Oregon it is no different. As the night takes hold, eight men and women bear witness to the horror of a zombie outbreak. This Rotten World is the zombie novel that horror fans have been waiting for. Where other zombie works skip over the best part of a zombie outbreak, This Rotten World revels in it the downfall of humanity, dragging you through the beginnings of society's death, kicking and screaming.
Click here to buy it now!
This Rotten World: Let It Burn
It didn't take long for Portland, Oregon to fall. Amid a decaying and crumbling city, a group of survivors hides amid the smoke and the fire. They need to get out of the city... which is easier said than done with thousands of zombies blocking the path. Witness the terrifying flight of these survivors as they leave the city behind and Let It Burn.
Click here to buy it now!
This Rotten World: No More Heroes
With the smoking ruins of Portland behind them, our survivors find that they have a new enemy to contend with... other survivors. With the dead hounding them at every step and humanity struggling to hold onto its civility, the survivors face their greatest challenge yet. At the end of this battle, there will be No More Heroes.
Click here to buy it now!
In the Enemies of Our Ancestors Series
The Enemies of Our Ancestors
In the mountains of the Southwest, in the time before the continents were known, the future of the entire world rested upon the shoulders of a boy prophet whose abduction would threaten to break the world. As a youth, Kochen witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a gruesome spirit that stalked his village's farmlands. From that moment forth, he became a ward of the priests of the village in the cliffs. As he grew, he would begin to experience horrific visions, gifts from the spirits, that all of the other priests dismissed. When the ancient enemies of the Cliff People raid the village and steal Kochen away, they set in motion world-changing events, which threaten to break the shackles that bind the spirits to the earth. A group of hunters are sent to bring Kochen back to his rightful place. As Kochen's power grows, so too does the power of the spirits, and with the help of an ancient seer and his hunter allies, he seeks to restore balance to the world as it falls into brutal madness.
Click here to buy it now!
The Enemies of Our Ancestors: The Cult of the Skull
With the world balanced after the tragedies of the year before, two tribes attempt to come together and form a whole. But as an ancient foe from the past reappears and a new threat from the south snakes its way to them, the Stick People and the Cliff People must do more than put their differences aside... they must come together to survive. As fantastic as it is violent, The Cult of the Skull picks up right where The Enemies of Our Ancestors left off.
Click here to buy it now!
Standalone Novels
The Abbey
In the desolate mountains of Scotland, there is an abbey that time has forgotten. Its buildings have crumbled, and the monks that once lived there, guarding the abbey's secret, are long dead. When the journal of a crazed monk is discovered, so is the secret of Inchorgrath Abbey. There are tunnels underneath the abbey and in them resides a secret long forgotten. Together with a group of mercenaries, her would-be boyfriend, and her cutthroat professor, Lasha Arkeketa will travel across the world to uncover the secret of The Abbey.
Click here to buy it now!
The Drop
How many hearts can a song touch? How many ears can it reach? How many people can it kill? When popular boy band Whoa-Town releases their latest album, no one thinks anything of it. They certainly don’t think that the world will be changed forever. After an apocalyptic disease sweeps the world, it becomes clear that the music of this seemingly innocuous boy band had something to do with it, but how? Katherine Maddox, her life irrevocably changed by a disease dubbed The Drop, sets out to find out how and why, to prevent something like The Drop from ever happening again.
Click here to buy it now!
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
A sickness has come to the village of Hamelin. Born on the backs of rats, a plague begins to spread. As the town rips itself apart, a stranger appears to offer them salvation. But when the citizens of the town fail to hold up their end of the bargain, the stranger returns and exacts a toll that is still spoken of to this day. That toll? The town's entire population of children. This is the legend of the Pied Piper. It is no fairy tale. It is a nightmare. Are you prepared to hear his song?
Click here to buy it now!
Killing the Cult
At any one time, there are 4,000 cults operating within the United States. In Logansport, Indiana, one cult is growing. When The Benevolent recruit Matt Rust's estranged daughter, he journeys to their compound to free her, one way or another. Unfortunately, for Matt Rust, his checkered past threatens to derail his rescue mission. When word gets out that Rust has reemerged after spending the last decade in the witness protection program, drug tzar Emilio Cartagena sends his best men after Rust. Will he be able to save his daughter before Cartagena's men arrive? Find out as Matt Rust tries Killing the Cult.
Click here to buy it now!
The Lady That Stayed
Land has a price. It's always been that way. When J.S. Stensrud and his wife Dotty buy a piece of land on the Oregon coast known as the Spit, they come to know that price. As Stensrud tries to build a legacy on his island amid the background of the Great Depression, he is visited by a Native American woman who helps him learn the bloody price of land in the most painful way possible.
Click here to buy it now!
An Unorthodox Cure
Cancer will touch all of our lives at one point or another. It may affect someone you know, someone you respect, or even someone you love. In the case of the Cutters, it has systematically invaded every cell of their daughter's body. When the doctors admit there is nothing they can do, the Cutters bring their daughter home and prepare to wait for the inevitable. Just as they accept defeat, a mysterious doctor appears at their door, offering a miraculous cure and kindling hope in their hearts. The only catch? The Cutters have to decide what is more important, their daughter's life or her soul.
Click here to buy it now!
About the Author
Jacy Morris is a Native American author who has brought to life zombies, cults, demons, killer boy bands, and spirits. You can learn more about him at the following:
http://jacymorris.com
[email protected]
Facebook
Twitter
Be sure to check out
THE
DROP
By Jacy Morris
Here is a sneak preview:
PROLOGUE
An excerpt from an article entitled "Whoa-Town Becoming Whoa-World in Record Time" by Anton Russo as Published in Rolling Stone
Part of me wants to hate them. Boy bands aren't supposed to be this good. A man, a grown-ass, thirty-year-old man, shouldn't find himself moved by the vocal-stylings of five boys, some not even old enough to drink yet. But here I am, at Wembley Stadium, packed in like cattle in a slaughterhouse chute, ready to stick my head into the kill box and have a hole punched in my cranium.
There is no opening band for Whoa-Town. What sucker would take that gig? Who would want to have the memory of their performance obliterated by the next act, a band that many claim is bigger than the Beatles and the Stones combined? Lofty words. All of us scoffing, bearded, music snobs sneer, knowing full well in our hearts that there is no way anyone means it when they throw out those comparisons. It's just the thing that clichéd, hack journalists say when they can't think of any way of telling people how big a band is or is going to be.
Here I am, standing amid the heat and the hot breath of 90,000 people, the lucky ones who snagged their tickets in that first two minutes before the entire system crashed. Leading to a day in London collectively known as Cry Day, the day that every teenage girl, and many other men, women, and boys christened their cell phones with tears at news that the Whoa-Town show was already sold out.
You'd expect the air to reek of cheap designer-knockoff perfume, hair product and bubblegum. But it doesn't. It smells of something else. It reeks instead of lust and anticipation. The crowd hums with energy; their faces drip sweat even though the stadium's roof is open to the elements. The cool night air can't compete with their fever. Their bodies vibrate, conducting heat at a level that confirms in my mind that spontaneous combustion might actually be a thing. At any moment, the girl next to me, screaming ear-piercing "woos" every thirty seconds or so, might burst into flames.
Before long, we can't take it anymore. Wait... they can't take it. I'm certainly not into any boy band. I'm just here for the story. They begin to chant. When the mother next to me, clad in baggy jeans that go up past her bellybutton, elbows me as encouragement, I make a show of reluctantly joining in. I clap. I yell, "Whoa-Town!" right along with everyone else.
Only when the building quakes from all the stomping, yelling, and clapping does something happen. Just as I am assured that Wembley Stadium will collapse around us before the band ever takes stage, the lights come on, blinding us. The lights fade, dropping faster than my own aloof persona, plunging us into a darkness punctuated by the unwelcome glow of emergency lighting. Around the stadium, tiny rectangul
ar blooms of blue-light illuminate in response. 90,000 people recording when they aren't supposed to be. It is as if the stadium is filled with thousands of mutant fireflies, swaying from side to side as the chant of "Whoa-Town!" thunders through the stadium once again... and then the beat drops.
With a "whoomp," several sparking shapes arc into the air, erupting into gold and crimson starbursts, and screams echo so loudly that I'm not even sure when the screaming stops and the music begins. They're here. Whoa-Town, the boys that will change music and the world forever and I, Anton Russo, was there.
Tragic. Just tragic. - Sebastian
You think that's tragic, check out those Teen Beat articles I found. - Katherine
Chapter 1: Walking the Streets
I see this story as more than a job, more than just a fact-finding mission to once again help us cope with the tragedy, with a loss that, in a very real sense, is unprecedented. Many people have tried that. So many. No, if that's all this was, then I would be off somewhere else, looking into a murder or trying to uncover the next dastardly person exploiting the American Relief Organization.
I see this story as a time capsule, a way to help the people of the future. If there's one thing that I learned from my 8th-grade social studies teacher, it's that history is a cycle, and that all things, good or bad, will come around again, hence the term revolution, a circuit, a never-ending loop that only the educated can see. Thinking about what the world has just gone through, and is still going through, I can only shudder at the thought that hundreds of years down the line this will all happen again. So my hope is to write this story, bury it in the ground, and when it's needed, the people of the future can come and dig it up.