Dying Days 2 (17 page)

"Maybe there is a large group and they want to make this a safe haven. Who knows? I just hope they want to talk first and do not try to shoot us." Eric pulled his 9mm. "Move away from me, so they won't have a shot at both of us at the same time."

"The bodies?"

"No, whoever did this." Eric was going to have a word with Darlene when he got back about not pairing with this kid again. He was arrogant, lazy and thought he was in charge half the time.

Eric took three steps down the stairs to the beach when the smell of decay and rot overwhelmed him and he gagged.

"Suck it up, old man," Chris said with a laugh, but his eyes were watering. "Ain't you ever smelled bad pussy? It kinda stinks like this."

Eric hopped down the last few steps, more to get away from Chris than to reach the bottom. He was about to yell at the kid for being such an idiot when the sheer volume of what he was seeing hit him.

Under the pier and stacked in even rows were bodies, piled three high and running for about fifty feet in length. But, under the boardwalk itself were more of the dead. They were piled two high, three rows deep, and ran in either direction for hundreds of feet.

"Shit," Chris said.

Eric had to agree. He started counting and figured out a rough estimate. "I'm going to say three thousand bodies, maybe more."

"That's a lot of dead. No wonder we aren't seeing any in the area. They've all been killed." Chris smiled. "This is good, right?"

Eric shrugged, covering his mouth and nose. "I hope so. But this means a large group is in the area and cleaning house. I just hope they are friendly, and, if they head in our direction, we spot them before they spot us."

"Should we try to locate them? They have to be here and close."

"No. Not until I talk to Murph and Griff. I don't want to stir up a band, especially if they are nomads and will move on. This isn't a good thing, because supplies are already picked clean in Flagler Beach and Palm Coast. I'd hate to think a large group is around and fighting for the same scraps we are, and moving like locusts."

Chris moved his lips to answer but puked instead.

"We need to get back up top. I can only imagine the disease festering with all these bodies. Hopefully, they move along and we can start burying the dead." Eric jogged up the steps and scanned the buildings on A1A. He wondered if they were being watched.

Chris came up behind him. "Now what? Do we head up 100 into Palm Coast?"

"No. We report back. We need to figure out what we're doing. You ready to ride?"

"Sure. I need to get back, anyway."

"Busy? Jerry Springer on TV?"

"Nope." Chris looked up into the sun. "I'm not a big fan of this heat, especially when you have air conditioning and cold water in the fridge. You can report back to Darlene and the others, but I'm going to take a nap."

"You're quite the team player."

Chris smiled. "I try."

Eric bit his tongue and decided to have the talk with the others about Chris. He was glad he wouldn't be at the upcoming report meeting. The kid was an idiot. "Keep an eye out for people in the buildings and on the roofs."

The dune buggy was started and they pulled away from the Flagler Beach pier and headed north. Eric kept to the center of the two-lane road and kept it slow and steady. The last thing he wanted to do was run right into a walking zombie or be going too fast to turn away and crash. 

Eric glanced at the Golden Lion, on his left. In better days, the restaurant was probably packed with customers eating fish and chips, having fruity drinks and enjoying the bright sunshine on the top deck. Now, it was filled with sand, the paint peeling and the tiki bar imploded. This far south, it was only used as a storage place. Eric pulled over.

"What are we doing?" Chris asked.

"I want to see if the stores have been taken from here. Come on, and bring the shotgun."

They stepped over a crumbling wooden booth. Eric looked up at the marquee of a regal lion with sunglasses and sighed. Such a shame. "Follow a few feet behind me. Shoot anything that moves, but don't do anything stupid."

Chris didn't comment, which was a rarity. Usually, he had some lame remark.

Eric didn't see new footprints in the sand covering the floors, but the wind was blowing through the open areas and most of them would be wiped away quickly.

Toward the back of the Golden Lion was a raw oyster bar, where they'd packed items they didn't immediately need but could be used in a pinch, like camping supplies, tents, furniture, motor oil, and lawn equipment. You never knew what you were going to need, and as items were destroyed, broken or ran out of their usefulness, they couldn't be easily replaced.

Eric used his key to unlock the Master padlock on the door. Anyone with a foot could kick the door in, but Eric insisted on the extra precaution anyway. Everything was safe inside, items piled high.

"Look," Chris said. He was pointing at some footprints around the door.

"Barefoot," Eric said. "Might be a zombie, but they aren't necessarily fresh." Eric looked up. "The bar could've just blocked the wind at the right angle. They could be days or weeks old."

"I guess. Can we go now?"

"Sure. Keep your eyes open."

"How many times are you going to tell me that?"

"Until it really sinks in."

They got back on the dune buggy and headed north again. The road was still clear ahead and behind.

Eric picked up the pace. He wanted to talk to the others now. If a large group was in the area, he doubted they would skip over the Golden Lion and would have definitely kicked in a locked door. It didn't make sense.

"Stop," Chris, suddenly, cried out.

Eric pulled over onto the side of the road.

"Back there. I thought I saw someone standing on the ramp."

Eric turned the dune buggy around slowly. "Where?"

Chris pointed at the Java Joint. "That coffee place. I swear, someone was just standing there as we drove past."

"Get the shotgun."

Eric pulled up to the bottom of the ramp and stared at the dark interior, but he saw no movement, especially from this low angle. "I'll lead. Give me the shotgun and stay a few feet behind me."

They took slow steps up the wooden ramp, careful not to trip on debris. At the top of the ramp, they stepped onto the main deck, which wrapped around the building to their left. The front doors were open, the glass long since broken.

Eric stepped inside and led with the shotgun. The tables and chairs had been jammed to either side. The wooden counter was still intact, but the cash register was on the ground in pieces. Two bathroom doors stood before him to the right. "Cover me."

The men's room was empty. Eric flung open the ladies room but it was also unoccupied. Eric pointed to the counter. "Let's check out the kitchen."

"I wish they had a cheeseburger and coffee."

Eric smiled. "Maybe they will. Stay sharp."

Behind the counter was a brush of sand from the broken side window. The cabinets were open and empty, and the soda cooler was a jagged mess. "I've been in here before. Months ago. It's been picked clean."

"Then let's get out of here," Chris said.

"Not until we check the back."

"I have your back," Chris said.

Eric wasn't too relieved by his words. The kid would run in a heartbeat, if there was trouble. "Ready?"

He didn't wait for Chris to say anything before stepping into the kitchen area. It was a wreck but just as he remembered it. There were also bare footprints in the dirt and dust on the floor. Eric didn't like it, but figured a zombie had wandered in at some point recently. More than likely, it was now piled under the boardwalk.

"Clear. Let's get out of here." Eric walked out and back into the sunshine, breathing in the clean air. At least with the demise of the human race, the pollution and noise had stopped. The air was fresh with no vehicle exhausts, cigarette smoke, and music playing. But it was lonely.

They got back into the dune buggy and started driving away.

"I'm almost positive I saw someone," Chris said.

Eric nodded. Normally, he would doubt anything the kid said, and they'd walked through the Java Joint. But Eric couldn't help the feeling they were being watched.

Follow the survivors in Dying Days 3, out now!

DYING DAYS 3

A History Lesson…

The Beginnings of Dying Days 2

December 16
^th
2011

Began a Kickstarter for
Dying Days 2
. I noticed there were only three book projects up on their site and wanted to see if I could get donations for people to want to be in the book. Fun perks. 19 backers pledged $1,106 and some of them became ongoing characters in the entire series:

Russ "Madman" Meyer, Tosha Shorb, Steven Brack, David Monsour, Ellen Harden, and Michael Ross…

Others donated and got ebook and/or print copies when
Dying Days 2
was released: Bill O'Toole, Carl R. Moore, Michael Wolfe, Wayne Via, Don Corcoran, Nancy Tomec, Jonathan Lambert,  Erik Gustafson, Cheree Ingram, Wendy McLane, Jennifer McMorrow, Brian Philbin, and C.J. Marsicano

It was a great experiment and I’m glad I did it before Kickstarter became almost a norm for anyone releasing books for a period only a few short years later.

Some of the blog posts from
http://armandrosamilia.com
follow to take you through the journey…

February 3
^rd
2012

This week I officially began the sequel to
Dying Days
, which is titled
Dying Days 2
… I know, I know, you didn’t see that title coming. I really wanted to name it
Dying Days 2: Electric Bugaloo
but decided against it (people who are old like me will get the joke)…

The first three chapters are actually finished and appeared last week in the updated print version of Dying Days

As for the rest? I’m getting there slowly but surely… my goal is a thousand words a day this month, with a rough goal of 29,000 words to finish the first draft of the novella.

I’ve introduced some new characters to the series as well, ones I’m quite proud of so far…

Tosha Shorb – vixen firecracker, tough and sure of herself

David Monsour – runs the guard duty in St. Augustine, over his head with problems besides the zombie apocalypse

Steve ‘The Breeze’ Brack – famous race car driver, and famously arrogant