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Extinct Sample

The diary of Georgina Blake.
Do I keep a diary? I don’t know. I never have done before, but if there’s ever been a good time to start, then it’s now.
I guess I just want to organise my thoughts, to figure out where I am and how I got here. This is the only way I can think of to do that. I just want to chronologically work out how I got from my comfortable, “normal” life…to this. Whether this is a hobby that I’ll take up permanently or not, I don’t know. What I do know is that I need to do this, just to get all of these thoughts out of my head.
So, where to start?
How did this all begin? I can barely remember now. It was months and months ago that we first heard about the virus outbreak. “AM13” it was immediately called. Or Acetylcholine Malassimilation 1.3, if you want to be technical about it. Apparently it was discovered by a news researcher. Leah Watton was her name. Her face, plastered all over the news, is one of the only things I can remember clearly. It was the fact that she looked so afraid that got to me. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d seen, how much she’d really known…
We were initially told that the symptoms were “flu-like” and that if we were experiencing any of these signs we had to immediately go to one of the specialised medical facilities that had been set up. Did people go? I don’t know…well, I suppose not, considering what happened next.
Would I have gone? If I’d been infected? I’m honestly not sure.
We were eventually told that victims would rapidly progress from influenza symptoms to organ failure. Then death. Or…not so much death, but they’d become something else. Something scientifically impossible, yet somehow real.
Zombies.
It seems weird to write that word in the context of reality. Yet here I am, doing just that. How else can you describe people infecting others through biting? How else can you depict someone that can only be murdered by having their brains destroyed? How can you talk about people with greying skin, blackish blood, lost limbs, injuries all over their bodies that absolutely should have killed them, with only the desire to bite, eat, kill all while passing on this hellish virus, in any other way?
There isn’t any other word that suits.
Anyway, it wasn’t long before it was announced that we were all going to be quarantined in our homes whilst the Government “took care of the ever-increasing problem.” The “Lockdown,” it was called. It was supposed to be a fortnight. Two weeks and the world would be infection free.
Of course, it didn’t exactly work like that.
There were protocols all set in place—the plan seemed pretty solid on the surface, but as the days passed, it was clear that it was all going to hell. There were these zombies everywhere. More and more each day.
I thought we were done for. I couldn’t see any way out. I just waited…hoping someone else was taking care of the problem.
Then, my prayers were answered. The radio airwaves were hacked with one message, a plea to us all. “Everyone, please get to your local airport as quickly as possible. There you will be given further instructions and be taken to a safe destination.” Over and over again. I couldn’t believe it. It was all going to be okay!
Except, then I realised that I was going to have to get to the airport…through all of the
zombies…by myself.
Luckily my neighbours—the ones who were left—decided to travel together. Not all of us survived the whole journey. I was one of the fortunate ones. I managed to make it without a scratch. A miracle, I suppose. I’m not exactly the sort of person that you’d expect to survive something like this.
As soon as we reached the airport, we were flown to an island—one that had never even heard of the AM13 virus, and that’s where we’ve remained ever since. It’s small, hot, and now very cramped. I don’t know where it is, who lived here before, or how it managed to avoid the virus completely, but it’s certainly a safe haven from infection…the very thing that we were all looking for!
I’m sure all the remaining survivors from home didn’t make it to the airport. I dread to think how many were killed, maimed, and bitten along the way. I also wonder if some people were simply left behind, if they didn’t make it on time, if they were too afraid, or trapped…they are just back there in the UK, surrounded by zombies, forgotten. The lives of these people that have been left behind must be a hellish nightmare—one that doesn’t bear thinking about! Assuming that there are some, of course…
I guess it seems like the ones who made it to the airport are the lucky ones.
Except, we aren’t really that lucky. Sure, there’s no virus here, but it’s a hellish, brutal life. The people running this camp don’t have any kind of compassion. That, teamed with meagre food rations, means it isn’t exactly running smoothly. It’s more like existing in the worst prison you can imagine—frightening, overwhelming, claustrophobic…
I think it’s safe to say that we all can’t wait until this is over.
There are endless rumours flying about the place. There’s a cure, we’re going home one day, the zombies are becoming extinct…who knows what’s true anymore.
I certainly don’t…

Big Sexy Love: The laugh out loud romantic comedy that everyone's raving about! by Kirsty Greenwood

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Laugh, cry and feel amazing with this new laugh out loud romance for 2018! It's full of hysterical feel good moments, heart-stopping romance, a whole lot of sexual chemistry and one friendship you'll never, ever forget! If you like feel good romance books by Sophie Kinsella, Lindsey Kelk, Suzy K. Quinn or Meg Cabot, then you'll LOVE this hilarious laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from bestselling romance author Kirsty Greenwood.

What's Big Sexy Love about?

Olive Brewster is living a small, safe life. She’s happy enough with her job at the local market, it’s no big deal that she doesn't have a boyfriend, she even likes that she still lives in her childhood home. No drama and no fuss means no problems! And that's just how she likes it.

Except … Olive's best friend in the world​, Birdie, is dying.

Birdie has one final wish. She wants to track down her first love, her epic once in a lifetime love, her "Big Sexy Love", Chuck. And because she's stuck in the hospital she needs Olive's help to do it. But there’s a teeny problem: Chuck is somewhere in New York and Olive has never even left her home town, let alone roamed the crazy streets of Manhattan!

As if the big city isn't scary enough, Olive has to contend with Seth, a cocky comedy TV writer who thinks she’s a joke; Anders, a bored socialite who’s taken a shine to her; and the fact that no matter how hard she tries to track down Chuck, he does not seem to want to be found.

Can Olive learn to overcome her fears, abandon her old safe routine and fulfil her best friend’s dying wish?  It's going to take extra bravery, one badass attitude and a whole lot of Big Sexy Love to make it happen …

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Forgotten Sample

Bang.
That noise.
Bang. Bang. So loud. It feels like it’s coming from inside my own head.
Bang.
I cover my ears with my hands, pulling my knees up to my chest, trying to block out the whole world for a moment. I just need to think.
I don’t know what to do about her, I really don’t. I can’t just do nothing. She isn’t right, however much I try to convince myself otherwise. I have to accept the truth. I have to admit that whatever is behind that door isn’t my cousin. Not anymore. But that doesn’t make this any easier.
When I found her, outside the door collapsed and covered in blood, I completely freaked out, what if she had this thing, the illness? I had to block out all my deep-rooted fears about catching the disease while I carried her in and cleaned her off. I didn’t have any choice, did I? There’s no one else left—as far as I’m aware, anyway. I don’t even know how she got here. Was she heading this way on purpose, coming to see me? Or was it simply a coincidence that it’s my door she passed out in front of?
I left her to sleep. She slept for days. She slept for so long I started to fear that I was too late, that she was already dead.
Then, there was movement.
I heard her get up out of the bed and move about the room. I waited. I didn’t talk for fear of what she might say, for fear of learning what had truly happened to her.
She switched. Day to day. Minute to minute. One moment she would be speaking, albeit very slurred and stilted words that I could never really understand. The next I’d just hear screaming and smashing, as things would be thrown around in a violent rage. It was terrifying.
Now, I’d give anything for that emotion. Now all I can hear is growling, moaning, shuffling.
And banging.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I fear she’s going to bring that flimsy door down soon, making my decision for me. I’m not ready for that, not yet. I’ve already lost too many people. She might be the only one I have left.
I already know that my parents are dead. The last time I spoke to my mother, I could hear my dad slowly dying in the background. He was coughing and spluttering the whole time, and growling in between. He was starting to sound just like all the others do—the infected on the outside. I could hear the trepidation in Mum’s voice, but she wouldn’t tell me any details. I’m sure she must have known that neither of them had much time left, but she was too proud to let me help.
I could have done it anyway, I suppose. When I tried to call over the next few days and got no answer, I could have hot footed over there and helped them both out, but I didn’t. I’m a coward—I always have been—but that doesn’t stop the guilt from eating me up. I was too afraid of finding them both hungry for my flesh. I was terrified of joining them in the undead army that’s growing steadily by the minute.
I think it’s safe to say that the Lockdown has failed.
The Lockdown. What an idea—quarantine everyone inside their own homes, gather all the
infected into a specialised medical facility to cure them, and then let life get back to normal.
That’s what we were led to believe was the plan. Unfortunately, it hasn’t seemed to work out that way at all. I don’t know what went wrong—how or why—but here we are. The number of infected roaming the streets is rising rapidly, and no one has any idea what’s going to happen next. There’s never any new information on the television or radio; the news reports are just repeats from before. There are definitely no signs of life returning to normality any time soon.
If I was still receiving food deliveries from the armed forces, I might feel a little bit better about the whole thing, but they petered out a while ago, just proving to me that this has gotten out of control. I’m rapidly losing confidence in any of us surviving this mess. I think the AM13 virus was ravaging far too out of control before the government even attempted to get a handle on it. I don’t think they ever stood a chance against it; they’d left it far too late.

AM13 Outbreak Boxset

 

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Lockdown Sample

Okay, it’s official. I’m dead. I’m actually going to be killed.
Then I’ll lose my job, my super important position and my beautiful nameplate, complete with Leah Watton written across it in shiny silver print. Of course, this will cause me to get kicked out of my flat and I’ll end up living in some cardboard box on a skanky street corner, drinking cider and trading war stories around a bin fire.
Or the much worse option, I’ll be forced to move back to my parents’ house.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
All for one idiotic joke. I can’t believe it. I’ve nearly wrecked my career already, and it was only just beginning. I can really feel the panic welling up in my stomach now. After those three long years at university studying journalism, the thing I was so sure I was destined to do with my life (which in the end turned out I actually hated). Those long depressing months of sending out CVs to every stupid newspaper, magazine, and supplement going—my parents had always made it very clear that they expected me to use my degree sensibly, especially as they may have helped me now and again, financially, after I got into a bit of credit card debt. I got rejected time and time again, even by a cheese periodical. Seriously, they said at the interview my lack of passion for the subject was apparent. I mean, what sort of person is passionate about cheese?
Finally I got a chance, well more like a small teeny tiny stepping stone, one that would actually go down well with my family. A news researcher. I mean, it’s for the least watched local news program ever, in a small rural part of the country where nothing exciting ever happens, but it totally counts. I was so relieved, but definitely not happy to get this job. Still, I can’t afford to lose it.
I’m such a fool. I only did this to impress Jake. Damn it. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I walked in on my first day and saw him smiling into the phone and twisting his hair in that cute way he does when he’s concentrating. He’s absolutely gorgeous—tall, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, a smile that lights up a room. I was instantly smitten, and have since spent my days catching any glimpse of him that I can.
He definitely likes to think he’s the joker in the office, so after flirting and dressing to accentuate my best features—which believe me isn’t easy if you’re five foot three, with a figure that could do with losing about ten pounds—I thought I’d try a different approach to getting his attention.
He’s one of those guys constantly emailing stupid YouTube videos to everyone, often with a fake news story attached, usually mocking one of our more recent, tedious projects. So I found a great one of a ‘zombie’ attack. It’s brilliant. It looks so realistic and although it’s in a foreign language and you can barely make out any words, the narrator sounds terrified. It made me laugh when I found it, and I knew Jake would find it funny, so I set it up.
But then came the error. I feel icy and uncomfortable even thinking about it. I accidentally sent it to Jamie King, the big boss. With a whole news story attached.
He doesn’t understand humour and I’m sure he’s never heard a joke. He seriously does not tolerate messing around in the office. This can only mean he’s either going to think I’m serious and I think this should actually go on television, on the news, like some idiot who doesn’t deserve this job, or he’s going to see it for the joke it is and instantly sack me. Oh God, I don’t know what’s worse, I can’t cope with this.
I’m such a klutz. If I hadn’t been talking to Michelle about the new blue high heels I bought over the weekend to go with my black swishy dress, and I was actually concentrating on what I was doing for a change, then none of this would have happened.
She’s still talking to me about them now, and about a night out she’s planning for someone’s birthday, but I can’t focus on a word she’s saying. I’m just filling in all the pauses with “yeah” or “oh right” which seems to be satisfying her for now. She always was the talker in the friendship.
The waiting is almost worse than the inevitable boot. I’m on the edge of my seat, tapping my fingers and shaking my legs nervously. I keep seeing Jamie pacing up and down in his office, but not once has he come into the main room. I’m so scared I could throw up. I can’t concentrate on anything. I keep logging onto Facebook just to calm down, which is actually just going to add to my telling off, I realise as I quickly shut the Internet down.
Okay this is getting ridiculous now. It’s been hours and still nothing. Maybe he just hasn’t checked his email yet, or maybe my ideas are so insignificant he deleted it without even reading it. This idea bucks me up a little bit. In fact, now I think about it, he’s been on his phone all morning, chattering away quickly and nervously. He looks really stressed out, and actually kinda sweaty. Gross, I screw my nose up in mild disgust. This man is far too important to be worried about some silly email from little old me, isn’t he? I start to chuckle to myself. I feel relieved, almost hysterical.
“What’s up?” Michelle interrupts my thoughts.
“Oh, er, nothing.” I realise I’ve been laughing quite loudly. My face flushes red and I pretend to be engrossed in a press release on my desk.
God, press releases are boring. If I worked in PR I’d attach some freebies or something eye catching with everything I sent to anyone in the media. Surely that’s a way to ensure you’d get on the news? I’d find out who worked at each news studio and send them something they’d specifically like. For example, for me I’d send a nice new bag. Or, no that might be a bit much; maybe some new bath salts or something. If someone sent me that I’d make sure their product or story got on the news, even if it was really dull.
“Leah.” Jamie’s voice makes me jump out of my seat. Damn, I’d forgotten all about that email for a minute there.
I quickly close down Facebook. How did I end up on that website again? I’m reading everyone’s gossip and not even realising it. I walk quickly to his office with my head down. Everyone is staring at me, which makes me feel awful. Mind you, if I was sat amongst them I’d be staring at me too.
“Sit.” I sit down very quickly. This is the end for me I can feel it.
The silence lasts for what feels like forever.
“I need you to explain this email you sent me.”
“Well, it was just a, um, joke really. I was just…erm.” I can’t stop babbling, my heart is pounding and my face is getting hotter and hotter.
“Where did you find the video?” he asks me as if I’m about five years old.
“Um, well, I found it on YouTube. On my own time, of course. I was only messing around during lunch, trying to get a laugh, lighten the atmosphere a bit.” I let out a strangled giggle; this could not be going worse. “I would never misuse company property. Except, well, the email. But that was just um, I didn’t mean to.”
“So, it’s not something you have been working on for a story?”
“Er no, I don’t think it’s, you know—” Don’t say it. Do not say it. “—real?” Damn it! Why would he need that obvious fact clarified?
“Hmmm, well, I want you to send me the video link so I can see what it is you lot are really doing when you’re supposed to be working.” The look he gives me makes me feel about two feet tall.
I’m shell-shocked as I walk back to my desk. What the hell just happened?
“What was that about?” Michelle whispers. 
I shrug my shoulders as a confused reply. Jamie is furious. That much I can see. I can’t tell if he really wants the link, or if he was just messing with me, trying to freak me out more than he already has, so I’ll never do anything bad again. Well, it’s working, but I think I’d better do what he asked, just in case.
I suddenly look at Michelle’s face and realise she’s actually annoyed with the fact that I haven’t given her any details to gossip about and help pass the day quicker. I feel totally sympathetic, so I fill her in on all the details.

Unleash the Undead

Delve into the horrifying world of the zombie apocalypse, as bought to you by the following authors and artists:

J.L.Drake, Marina Hume, Matías Andrés Bravo Jara,Ana Prundaru, J.H., Dale Herring, Jonny Graham, Klarissa Del Rossario, Saadia Ammad, Akash Sagar, Rob Shepherd, Rhys Curtis-Thompson, Kayleigh Edwards, Diego Tonini, Lachelle Redd, Victoria Pagac, Noel Osualdini, Glen Holman, Mathias Jansson, Kyle Flak, Ceri Matthias, Gia Berryman, Max Ferreira, Diana Alexandru, Kevin S. Hall, Art Pic, Zoja Vladisavljevic, B.S. Purwanda and Samie Sands.

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Not Dead Yet

The AM13 Outbreak has affected everywhere, the entire world has experienced infection.

Victims of the virus are no longer human, they've changed, become something scientifically impossible. With their loss of human function and their new lust for flesh, there’s only one word to describe them...

Zombies.

The world is divided as everyone tries to work out how to survive. Many have already lost their lives in the fight, but there are still a few who are not dead...

Yet!

Amazon Link

Sample

XINJIANG

“Mao? Mao?”
I can hear someone calling me, but I don’t even look around to see who it is. My eyes are fixed on the skies above. Something is coming, and as soon as it hits everything will end.
Weirdly, knowing that the end is coming doesn’t make me want to run, and that’s mainly because the bright light in the sky is somehow beautiful. It’s destructive, it’ll wipe out everyone and everything in its path, but right now the glow is intoxicating.
It’s not unknown that things between us and the Russian’s have been fraught recently, that there were negotiations that fell apart at some point in the proceedings, I guess it was inevitable that something like this would eventually happen, but the reality is so much more terrifying.
From what we’ve all heard—from various biased sources, of course, I’m not naïve enough to believe that we ever get the whole truth—the Russian’s had a cure for all of this, but they were cautious about giving it to the Chinese because they think the virus started here. It didn’t, we saw it broadcast in other countries before there was any sign of it here, but the rumors caused issues.
Then things took a really bad turn, and to be honest I think a lot of us have been waiting for the war to begin.
I suppose, in a way, this is a good thing really. If the nuke was to hit a little further away, it would kill us slowly, burning up our insides, bursting our organs, pulling us limb-from-limb. A death by radiation poisoning would be worse than the people who suffered the virus has experienced.
No, a quick blast of pain before the end of life as we know it is better. No death would be the perfect option of course, but that choice has been taken from us now.
Still, it’s a shame to die now, just as it seemed like we were coming out of the worst of it. The jiangshi are finally dying out, the virus is seemingly losing it’s grip on humanity, taking us to a point where we could restart civilization again. It’s a shame to lose now when we’ve all fought so hard to be here. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of to survive, and it seemed that we were just about to get our reward for that. Our prize for surviving the worst thing that’s ever happened to humanity.
Not that there’s any point in worrying about what’s happened, and what could’ve been now. In a moment, that thing’s going to hit, and it’ll all be done. The bright light will become an explosion and that’ll be the end.
“Mao? Mao?”
I can’t stop looking, I can’t stop staring at the one thing that’s going to kill me. Someone still wants my attention, but I can’t give it.
That has it. Any minute now...
It descends rapidly, people scream and run as if that’s going to make any difference, but I remain still, just staring. A smile even manages to work its way onto my cheeks. This isn’t ideal, I never wanted to go in this way, but at least now I can be freed from the inner torment I feel about all the people I’ve lost. Maybe now I’ll be reunited with them, and I can ask some of them for forgiveness for what I had to do to keep myself alive.
I can’t fight death, not now, so I might as well embrace it.
It connects with the ground. It takes only a split second for the intense heat to rise up, to consume me, but the grin remains on my lips up until the very last moment of my life.