When the dead began to move, our world changed forever.
No one was prepared for it. Zombie enthusiasts across the globe had laid out their survival plans. My brother and I played the “what if” game more often than I could count. There was always that assurance in the back of our minds that it was just a fantasy. It was impossible. Dead is dead, there’s no coming back.
We were wrong.
News was spotty at best during the first few days. But before the last of the broadcast signals winked out of existence, we learned what the infection was, for whatever good it did us.
We know what we need to know. They are relentless. If they catch us, they eat us. If they bite us, we become one of them. The bites are toxic, and always fatal. The transformation happens within hours, minutes if the victim dies shortly after bitten. Once their teeth break the skin, death is guaranteed.
It is airborne. When someone dies, no matter the cause, they will reanimate unless precautions are taken. In the very beginning, only the bitten would return. Now though, any corpse that has not been embalmed, burned, or suffered brain trauma will come back. We’re not sure how long it had been spreading, but there was no stopping the infection once the dead took their first steps. It exploded across the globe in a matter of days. Thinking back, we didn’t stand much of a chance.
We don’t know if they are alive or dead, or somewhere hellishly in between. They do seem to decay, but it appears to happen much slower than a corpse that has the good sense to stay dead. They never stop moving, even when there’s barely enough of them to hold their bones together. We’re not sure if they digest what they eat, but I’ve seen enough of them without their guts to believe that they don’t. That opens the window to another problem. They will never starve to death.
They can take incredible damage and never slow. Fortunate for us, the old zombie lore holds true. Injure the brain and they stay down. A bullet or some type of blunt force trauma seems to take these monsters out of the realm of the living. Those who grapple with the moral dilemma of killing what looks like a human being do not survive long.
They are not human anymore.
My name is Daniel Foster, and this is my world now. The planet is ruled by the undead. My family and I survive day by day, constantly watching over our shoulders for the dead and those survivors who continue to prey upon the living.
But we are surviving…
You can find This Dying World: The End Begins by at these links:
James Dean was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1975. He earned his Emergency Medical Technician license, serving for 3 years before returning to school to earn a AAS degree in electronics technology. He has worked in the technology field for 15 years and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. He currently lives in a suburb of Chicago with his wife and kids.
James has always been interested in writing, penning his first very short story in 4th grade. He’s written several short stories over the years, from horror to sword and sorcery genres. But he gave up writing for several years until he discovered the world of indie authors, thanks to people like Mark Tufo and Eric Shelman. James was once again bitten by the writing bug, which has led to his first full length novel, This Dying World: The End Begins.
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The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.
Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!
Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!