Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  Athea smiled, “Yes, if anyone can lead our armies to victory over the damned it’s that stubborn old bastard.”

  Baltazar, who was leaning up against the railing nearby, laughed. Liana, his wife, held him in and embrace from behind, her arms wrapped around his waist. At her feet Daisy sat, her wagging tail gently thumping against the wooden deck of the vessel. After they had returned and given the dog a bath, they discovered that she wasn’t gray at all, but mostly white, with black spots. Liana, seeing Daisy, smiled, reached down with her right hand and scratched the spot between her ears.

  As Liana moved her hand back into the embrace, Baltazar reached down, squeezed her hands gently with his own and said, “Aye, I feel sorry for the bastards in the army.”

  Athos laughed, “Indeed. They get to hear the same war stories again and again.”

  “Well, at least he should have a few new ones. It won’t be all about the Persians now. Baltazar replied.

  The two men noticed that the two figures fading away behind them had begun to wave. Athos and Baltazar returned the wave, and were joined by Athea and Liana. As the figures on the increasingly distant pier disappeared from view, the two men pulled their women into an embrace and kissed them.

  Ending the kiss, Athos said, “Wife. Heh, that word still feels weird on my tongue. I’m looking forward to a life spent with you.”

  Athea didn’t reply, she simply leaned forward and kissed him again.

  Afterward

  I hope you enjoyed the Byzantium Infected series. This world will always have a special place in my heart as the first idea that popped into my head for a novel. Having a real passion for Byzantium I wanted to write about it in a way that drew people unfamiliar with the subject matter to the books. After lots of thought it finally occurred to me, Zombies. Since I saw my first Zombie movie I was hooked, so my mind went to, “Why not combine the two passions together?” I started to think about how I could make that come about and it occurred to me, that there were two distinct possibilities, the barbaric invasions of the 5th Century, and the Islamic invasions of the 7th.

  I thought a world in which Mohammed spread something quite a bit different from what he did in reality could be an interesting alternative universe. The series starts with Mohammed becoming infected. At some point during the next twenty years he wanders into a settlement, bites someone, and then those infected spread the virus. Eventually the hordes come bursting out of Arabia. Persia exhausted from the generation long war with Byzantium is quick to fall. Byzantium, still has enough fight in it to resist. This is the basis for the first novel of the series Scourge of Byzantium.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed my vision of the 7th Century apocalypse as much as I have writing them. I hope to return to the series in time, but I really wanted to try my hand at something a little more conventional in the military based historical fiction realm. If you enjoyed my style of writing why not check out my latest novel The Winter Sniper?

  The Winter Sniper tells the tale of a fictional sniper Hale, set during the Winter War of 1939-1940 between the Soviet Union and Finland. This war was a real David versus Goliath tale in which the Finn’s held on much longer than anyone thought possible. As a bonus I have included the first chapter of this story. You can find it on Amazon for both Kindle and Print.

  If you enjoyed the story, I would very much appreciate it, if you would return to Amazon and write or stop by Good Reads and leave an honest review. It is the word of mouth testimony from readers like you, that is the life blood of independent authors such as myself. Let me extend a personal thank you in advance. I appreciate it!

  If you want to keep abreast of the latest developments in the Winter Sniper Universe and my other projects follow me on Facebook and Twitter.

  You can find me on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/James-Mullins-174236536279317/

  And Twitter at: https://twitter.com/JMullinsAuthor

  If you want to drop me a direct line, I’d love to hear what you think about the story, or whatever else is on your mind. Feedback is greatly appreciated. You can email me directly at jamesmullinsauthor@yahoo.com

  Thanks for reading!

  About the Author

  James Mullins holds three college degrees, a Masters and Bachelors in Business Administration and an Associates Acquisition and Contract Management. He lives with his beautifully intelligent Wife Anna and ten pounds of tenaciousness and fury Catalina the Cat (she keeps us in line) and the newest addition to the family TBD the kitten aka Little Dude. Hopefully when you return for book two in the series, he will have a name!

  James has had a diverse employment history. He got his start as an Avionics Attack System Specialist for the United States Air Force’s 71st Fighter Squadron, known as the Ironmen. During several tours of duty in the Middle East, James came to appreciate the beauty and harshness of the desert. Next, he built upon his problem-solving skills as a Pest Control Department Manager for Patriot Pest Control. During this time, he happily slew millions of bugs for the betterment of humankind, or at least making the lives of many a little less gross.

  Today, he works for a major defense contractor in the United States. He spends his days helping to keep the purchasing community on the straight and narrow, so that his co-workers can continue to build good ships. All his life he has had a passion for history with diverse interests in Rome, Byzantium, the Middle Ages, and the American Civil War. The Winter Sniper is his fifth novel.

  The Winter Sniper

  Chapter 1

  Karelia Isthmus, Finland November 30th 1939

  Hale took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The steam from his warm exhaled air, slowly dissipated in front of him as his ears registered a sound. Is that them? He thought. His thumb unconsciously fingered the safety on his SK Nagant M/28-30 bolt action rifle. He could feel a hint of the cold metal through the thick fabric of his gloves.

  He looked around at his immediate surroundings. The land was shrouded in a velvety blanket of whiteness broken by a seemingly endless number of trees. The trees, mostly birch, had lost their leaves to fall’s chill several months prior. The branches of the trees were all tinged with the white of last night’s snow fall. The tree’s branches, intertwined to form an endless canopy as far as the eye could see. It was a breathtaking sight to behold.

  Hale exhaled once more and watched the steam from his breath slowly dissipate in front of him. He felt a dull pain in his posterior, so he shifted his position on the large branch he sat on to relieve it. He sighed in relief as the pain ebbed. The faint sound continued to buzz in his ear. He asked himself again. Are they coming?

  He sat in near silence for several more minutes as the faint noise transformed itself into a dull rumble. This is it. They’re coming. He closed his eyes and imagined where he would be right now if it wasn’t for them. Certainly not perched in a tree in the miserable cold of this late November morning, awaiting the invaders.

  Reality fell away, and an image began to form in his mind of a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he sat on the floor in front of a warm fire. He was sipping a cup of hot cocoa. As he let his imagination take over, he could almost feel the hot liquid slide down his throat and fill his insides with its sweet tasting warmth.

  He looked around the room. In front of him was a fire place. Within the fire place was a pair of logs. A warm flame crackled and occasionally snapped as he absorbed the warm glow. The heat created a ruddy red glow on the pale skin of his face.

  From behind, he felt two arms wrap around him. He smiled and turned to see his little sister grinning at him. She was missing one of her front teeth. The tooth had recently fallen out. “Good morning.” His sister Aina said.

  Hale returned the smile and with a, “Good morning.” Of his own. The smell of sizzling meat wafted over them. Turning toward the kitchen Hale added, “Smells like breakfast is almost ready. Would you like some of my hot cocoa?”

  Aina’s grin broadened into a full smile and she nodded vigorously, “Yes please!”<
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  Hale turned to hand her the cup when a dull clanking noise pulled him back into reality. He opened his eyes and looked to his right at the lonely ribbon of mud and gravel that broke the seemingly endless rows of trees that surrounded him. Yes, that has to be them.

  Hale removed the mask that kept his face warm and slipped it into his pack. He then set his rifle down gently in his lap and removed his left glove. Stowing it in the pocket of his thick overcoat he flicked off the safety with his left thumb. Despite the frigid cold, the well-oiled switch clicked into place without resistance. Remembering the day the rifle was given to him, he thought, Thanks Dad. He pulled the glove back onto his left hand and craned his head so that he could see as far up the road to his right as possible.

  The dull clanking noise continued to grow in volume. A pair of stags bounded by below him heading away from the noise. He took another deep breath, looked up, and saw several squirrels dashing amongst the branches above him. They too headed away from the noise, North. Away from the invaders and toward safety.

  Hale began to feel the ground shake as the large Soviet column came into view. A Russian T-28 tank, painted white to blend into the terrain and emblazoned with a large red star on its turret, slowly clanked and groaned as the metal monster made its way up the road. The steel beast belched black smoke out of its hindquarters and spat mud and gravel from its tracks as it chewed up the soil of his homeland, Finland.

  The vehicle had tracks on the left and right side with two large wheels at either end, eleven small wheels on the lower half of the track, and three small wheels that touched the upper track. The two large wheels worked to drive the vehicle forward and the smaller wheels aided in holding the tracks in place.

  Atop the tank, sticking out of a hatch in the turret was a man. He wore a green fur cap and a heavy green coat. The coat, also a dark green in color, disappeared below his chest into the hatch. His black gloved hands held a pair of binoculars which he used to scan the forest around him as the tank slowly lumbered forward.

  As Hale watched, the next vehicle in the column slid into view it was a GAZ-MM. The GAZ-MM was a truck. The truck, had a cab in the front that could hold two people, and a canopy covered rear deck, where soldiers or supplies could be carried. He could see the faint outline of the driver’s head through the glass in the door as the vehicle slowly made its way forward behind the T-28. The truck was painted a dark green and had a red star of its own emblazoned on the driver’s door.

  The canopy of the GAZ-MM was the same dark green color as the tank commander’s coat. Hale took another deep breath and let it out slowly as he raised his rifle to his shoulder. This time he held his breath as he looked down the length of his rifle and drew a bead on the head of the tank commander with the iron sights.

  Hale peered through the first sight which was a half square that stuck up out of the rifle at the base of the barrel just beyond the bolt mechanism. He did this with his right eye as he closed his left. The square had a small notch in it that he lined up with the pip on the end of the rifle. He moved the rifle until both the notch and the pip lined up with the tank commander’s head. The head appeared as a small green dot within his gun sight.

  He then shifted the rifle slightly forward, so that the head barely showed in the hole of the square on the right side and slowly applied pressure to the trigger of his gun. The rifle belched acrid smoke and flame as it roared to life. The sound of the single shot echoed off the thousands of nearby trees as the bullet traveled nearly instantaneously to the head of the tank commander and hit it.

  The bullet carved through the man’s fur lined cap, then his skull, next into the fleshy brain beneath, and finally out the other side as it continued on its course. Before the bullet ended its journey by striking the trunk of a tree situated somewhere behind the tank commander his lifeless body hunched forward, and the man’s chin struck the edge of the turret ring he stood in and blood began to pool on the top of the T-28 contrasting sharply with the white paint. I have just taken a life. God please forgive me. Hale thought.

  Before the column could react to Hale’s shot, he pulled the bolt on his rifle and ejected the first bullet. As he slid the bolt back, the second bullet in his five-bullet magazine clicked into place. He then swiveled his rifle to the right, lined up the first truck driver’s head in his sights, and squeezed the trigger again. This time his bullet shattered glass the moment before it struck its target. As the driver slumped forward, the bullet, now misshapen from its impact with both the truck’s window and the driver’s skull, began to tumble as it slammed into the body of the Russian sitting to the right of the truck driver.

  The bullet penetrated the man’s arm, just above the bone in his left bicep, and entered his chest. As it continued along its path the bullet cleaved the man’s heart in two and exited out his right side before coming to rest in the passenger side door of the truck. The column lurched to a stop, as Hale pulled the bolt on his rifle again. A small puff of smoke emerged from the rifle as he did so. Like the first time he pulled the bolt action on his rifle, the spent cartridge was ejected. Hale’s eyes followed the steaming brass metal for a moment as it began its journey to the forest floor below. Stay focused. He mentally chastised himself as he looked back up at the now halted column.

  Several Soviet soldiers emerged from the rear of the canopy covered first truck in line. He drew a bead on the first man to emerge and squeezed the trigger. An instant later the soldier dropped to the snow-covered road. Hale quickly worked the bolt of his rifle twice more dropping the first man’s two companions within the space of two heartbeats. Other Soviets who had emerged from the trucks behind the first one followed the sound of his rifle and began running toward him. He quickly tabulated the number of soldiers in his head, Three squads of eight men each. A full platoon. Too many.

  Hale hit the tab on the bottom of his rifle that ejected the magazine. He caught the metal clip as it began to fall toward the earth and quickly slipped it into the left pocket of his white great coat. He reached into his right coat pocket and grabbed his next magazine. With a grunt he slammed it into place and pulled the bolt on his rifle to bring the first bullet into the chamber.

  Hale took another deep breath as he drew a bead on the first man running toward him in his iron sights. He squeezed the trigger and his rifle roared to life as it bucked against his right shoulder and tried to leap out of his hands. With practice ease he held the rifle in place.

  An instant later the lead soldier dropped to the ground. He operated the bolt quickly and expended the four remaining bullets in his clip. Each shot found its way into the head of one of the oncoming invaders. As more of the invaders emerged from their trucks the guilt he had been experiencing fell away and his heart hardened, Good riddance. He thought to himself.

  As Hale coldly slapped his third magazine into place, the turret of the T-28 began traversing in his direction. He took a deep breath and held it, as he quickly took aim, and dropped four more of the Soviet invaders with his rifle. The barrel of the T-28 made him nervous as it slowly swung in his direction which caused him to miss a shot.

  Dammit, he chastised himself mentally. He hit the tab releasing the magazine from his gun. Like before, he deftly caught the metal clip and quickly dropped it into his left pocket. He reached into his right pocket, grabbed his last magazine and slapped it into place. A faint click told him that the magazine had slipped into position and locked. As he raised his rifle to shoot again, his eyes focused on the black maw of the tank gun now pointed at him.

  Time to go, he thought to himself. He slung his rifle onto his left shoulder and leapt onto the trunk of the tree from the branch that he had been perched upon. With his arms wrapped around the trunk he quickly slid to the ground. The moment his feet touched the frigid snow the place where he had been sitting a moment earlier exploded into a ball of flames. The wood of the tree groaned as it shattered into a million splinters and caught fire.

  The shock wave from the blast knocked him t
o the ground face first. The snow helped to soften the blow from the concrete like surface of the frozen ground beneath. As he sat up, he blinked for several moments as stars danced in front of his eyes and his hearing became muted. The crackling flames of the tree branches above him sounded dull, as if he were underneath the surface of a lake.

  Hale’s mind shifted out of reality back to another time. He stood shivering in the early morning air as he leaned up against a tree trunk. It was snowing. He glanced to his right in the direction that he knew his father stood. Like unmoving statues, they both waited for a moose or a deer to happen by.

  Hale heard movement to his left, the sound of several paws striking the snow. He turned to face the sound and shivered as he met the steely gaze of a wolf running toward him. The beast’s coat was a dappled mixture of white and gray. As it drew near, the creature curled its lips into a snarl revealing two sharp fangs and dozens of smaller pointy white teeth.

  Hale raise his single shot rifle up to fire, it had been his grandfather’s. Frightened, he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. As his Grandfather’s gun spat fire, the memory faded, and he snapped back into reality. Hale shook the cobwebs out of his head and slowly made his way to his feet.

  Nearby he heard the sound of a branch snap. He pulled his rifle off his shoulder as he whirled around toward the sound. He caught sight of an enemy solider topping the ridge a hundred feet from him. Like the wolf, as he caught site of Hale, the man curled his lips to reveal his not so white teeth. The soldier’s fur cap had a large red star emblazoned on it. As he saw Hale a hundred paces in front of him, he raised his rifle and squeezed off a quick shot.

  The poorly aimed gunshot slammed into the trunk of the burning tree to Hale’s left. Hale raised his own rifle and returned fire. He didn’t miss. The next four Soviets to top the ridge quickly suffered the same fate as the first.