Dying Shortly

  Dying Shortly

  Volume I

  Zombie Sampler

  by

  Armand Rosamilia

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without expressed written consent of the author and/or artists

  This book is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living, dead or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  “Annie Morgan” copyright 2012 by Armand Rosamilia and appearing in the upcoming Still Dying: Scenes From Dying Days

  “Clothes Shopping” copyright 2012 by Armand Rosamilia and appearing in the upcoming Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer

  "Dying Days (Five Chapter Preview) copyright 2011 by Armand Rosamilia and from the Dying Days novella

  Cover Artwork copyright 2011 by Nic Burgess

  www.NicBurgess.ca

  First printing January 2012

  armandrosamilia@gmail.com

  I hope you will enjoy this sample from my Dying Days series of zombie stories, enough to check out the rest of the books:

  Highway To Hell

  Dying Days

  Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer

  Dying Days 2

  Still Dying: Scenes From Dying Days (coming in 2012)

  Annie Morgan

  Clothes Shopping

  "Dying Days" sample

  Annie Morgan

  The weight of the tire iron was nothing compared to the sheer weight of what Annie Morgan was about to do. She'd never killed someone before, although her mind screamed at her over and over that he was already dead.

  Still, she gripped the cold steel and cocked her hand but she couldn't take the swing. He'd been a lover only yesterday. Though Annie had never stopped being herself - and no damn zombie apocalypse was going to slow down this insatiable sex drive she bore like a curse and like a badge of honor all these years - she knew that it was harder not to get attached.

  Especially when Carl had been the only living person she'd come into contact with in the last months. They'd run into one another like Annie always did: while rummaging through a store or a house, looking for food.

  It was simple how it happened: Annie with a bottle of Bacardi in her hand, the tire iron in the other. He walked around the corner of the bar with a two-liter of flat Diet Coke and a machete.

  Within twenty minutes they were behind the damaged bar of the restaurant, rum and Cokes flowing, clothes off and dirty hands groping for the touch of a warm body. Not a word had been spoken until they were done and getting dressed.

  "I'm Carl, by the way," he said with a laugh. He was in his late forties, trim and fit, with salt and pepper hair and a scar running the length of his right arm. He finished his drink in the dirty glass they were sharing and handed it back to Annie.

  "Come here often?" she purred and poured another drink.

  "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he said and leaned over the bar across from her.

  "Are your feet tired?" she asked with a smile.

  "Because you've been running through my mind all day," he replied.

  "I guess one good thing about the end of the world is I don't have to hear lines like that anymore for real. Plus, I get to have sex with anyone walking through the door of my bar."

  "This is your place?" Carl asked.

  Annie shrugged and rolled her eyes. "It is now, right? I think the owner died."

  "What if this was my restaurant?"

  "It's not. I could tell by the way you were looking for stuff, like you'd never been here before."

  "You a detective besides a bar owner?" he asked.

  "Just a horny girl trying to survive."

  "I can deal with that," he said.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking, fucking and trying to get comfortable in the ransacked building as darkness settled in.

  * * * * *

  Annie stared at the softly snoring Carl and sighed. Her life was filled with Carl's, guys who were nice enough, cute enough, good guys. She knew she'd grow bored with him sooner than later. She always did, regardless of what was going on in her world.

  She peeled off her clothes and went quietly outside, into the warm Florida air. It smelled like rain at any moment and she hoped it was so she could wash up and not feel so dirty all the time.

  Annie was pretty, and she knew it. At five-nine with a little extra 'meat on her bones' and a phenomenal bubble butt - her best feature, just ask her - she was a tough cookie who didn't take shit from anyone. Add in her blonde hair, blue eyes and great dimples and she was the complete package. Even at forty she was hot, and usually pounced on the young guys like a cougar.

  She needed something else in her life, though, as stupid and selfish as that sounded in these times. She wanted a man to take charge, to know what he wanted in life and in the bedroom. "I need someone to spank me," she said softly to herself and grinned.

  It began to mist, a gentle rain, cold on her skin and getting her excited. Goose bumps rose on her arms and her nipples stood erect, welcoming the damp touch of the water.

  "Is everything alright?" a groggy Carl asked from the doorway.

  "Everything is fine." She turned and faced him, hands on hips. "It would be better if you were inside me."

  * * * * *

  The next day she knew she was going to leave Carl. He was goofy and acted like a child when they'd made love in the light the next day, like he'd never seen a grown woman naked before.

  Annie wanted a biker dude, with big arms and a great ass, who could sweep her off her feet. She wanted an in-control man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it, and took her in his massive arms and made her feel safe.

  She also craved anal intercourse right now, but Carl seemed very reluctant. Yeah, Carl needs to go. She wondered how she'd go about doing it and decided to simply leave tonight when he was sleeping. Of course, she'd fuck him once more for the road, but it would be about her and not him.

  "There's a clothing store up the road," Carl said. "Maybe we could scout it out? I need a new shirt."

  "I need a new thong," she said and looked away in disgust as Carl got all giddy at her remark. Like a twelve year old seeing his first set of tits, she thought.

  "Where you from, anyway?" Carl asked as they went down the littered street, eyeing every open doorway and busted window. Last night's brief rain had done nothing to cool off the humidity and heat, which rose off the asphalt and blinded them from above.

  Annie stopped and stared at him. "You usually do the small-talk thing before you fuck a girl."

  Carl looked away. "I was just trying to get to know you."

  She decided to play along and not hurt his feelings. He seemed very emotional, and she wasn't ready to be anybody's momma. Besides, after tonight he'd be a distant memory, another notch on her belt. "I'm from Tallahassee. I was actually born in New Jersey but my family moved here when I was very young. Before all this crap I was a second-grade teacher, if you can believe it." She idly thought of all the children's dads she'd slept with in her career. And a few moms, she thought, and felt the rush.

  Maybe she'd find some clothes and fuck Carl in the store as well. Because I'm horny and nothing more.

  The store was a small mom and pop, selling summer bathing suits and flip flops. She didn't even know how close she was to the ocean. She knew she was near A1A and maybe near Daytona Beach but that was about it. Since leaving Tallahassee she'd been turned around, chased, and hid so much she had no idea where she was. Did it even matter? So far she'd never had to fight, never been close to a
zombie and never attacked. She knew she was quickly becoming the exception to that rule, with less and less living people and more zombies around every turn.

  She found a shelf with underwear but no thongs. Annie didn't think a bathing suit would be a necessity and didn't bother to look through them.

  "What do you think?" Carl asked, sporting a gaudy Hawaiian shirt.

  "Tourist," she said sweetly. She looked around. "This is a bust."

  She ignored Carl as he began pulling brightly-colored shirts off the racks and wadding them up to take. The stockroom door was closed and she decided to explore one last spot before they went back to the restaurant.

  The door opened without a sound, Annie holding the tire iron before her. It was dark, but nothing jumped out at her. She didn't want to go in, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up. "Carl," she finally said. When he didn't answer she said his name louder.

  "Yeah? Did you see this shirt? It has fish on it."

  She turned and wanted to hit him. "That's ugly. I won't go out in public with you in that shirt."

  Carl started laughing.

  Now Annie was getting furious with him. "What's so fucking funny?" She was so leaving him sooner than later. Forget waiting until tonight; she was planning on walking out of this shitty store and away from this idiot. But first…

  "You won't go out in public with me? You're so funny. Baby, there is no public anymore. It's just me and you and whatever clothes and food we can find."

  "Do you have a flashlight?" she asked irritably.

  "No, do you?" he asked, still laughing. "Why?"

  "It's fucking dark in there," she said and pointed. "Go in and see if you can find something."

  Carl put his hands up. "Not me."

  "What are you, a pussy? Get your ass in there and see what you can find. There's probably a back door. It will let light in and we can see what's back there."

  "There might be zombies."

  "If there were, don't you think they'd attack already?"

  "I guess." Carl shuffled back and forth. "It's dark," he said finally.

  "Maybe there will be a flashlight in there," she said sarcastically.

  "Maybe," he murmured but went past her and inside. Within three steps the darkness swallowed him.

  She heard him crash into something and howl in pain. "Keep moving," she yelled. If he got hurt she was going to leave him here, that much was certain.

  After what felt like an hour Annie suddenly squinted against a bright light. Carl had found the back door and opened it.

  "It's about time," she said. She approached him as he pushed the door wide and laughed. "What's so funny?"

  "I found my new toy," Carl said.

  When she looked past him at the motorcycle she snorted. "You'll kill yourself."

  Carl ignored her jab and touched the bike, inspecting it with a child-like gleam. "It's a '99 Harley Road King Classic. These bad boys go for over ten grand in decent shape. This one is mint. They took care of it."

  The motorcycle was in a small, caged area behind the store with a thick tarp over the top.

  "You ride?" Annie asked skeptically.

  "Of course. I've been riding my whole life. I was raised by a stepfather who was a Hell's Angels member, believe it or not." He smiled at her in his goofy print shirt. "I was a bit of a bad-ass in my youth. Did a stint in county jail, got in one too many barroom brawls."

  "You're shitting me, right?"

  "Nope. The last ten years I decided to settle down, get a real job, and start growing up." Carl began looking around. "We'll have to walk it through the store. Let's see what's in the stockroom and get out of here. I'm itching to take this baby for a spin and see what trouble we ca get into."

  She was wet, plain and simple. This was the guy she was looking for, the take-charge bastard that set the rules. "First, I need you to fuck me." Annie pulled her jeans down and wiggled her ass as she bent over the seat of the Harley. "In my ass."

  * * * * *

  Annie still hated the Hawaiian shirt but her ass still tingled from the reaming she'd gotten. They found some candy bars in an employee locker and sat on the sales counter, watching the street and enjoying the snacks.

  "Which way do you want to ride?" she asked.

  "Into the sunset," he said and winked at her. "I know we're close to the beach. I'm thinking we'll take a cruise over to the beach, get some sun, find a nice hotel overlooking the ocean, and vacation for a bit."

  "Sounds like a plan to me," she said. She decided she'd stay with him now that he was asserting his inner bad boy. "I'm pretty sure, if we keep traveling down the highway east, we'll hit Daytona Beach."

  "Excellent. I haven't been to Daytona since spring break in college. I hope there aren't big crowds there," Carl said. He laughed at his own joke.

  "What are we waiting for?" Annie asked.

  Carl shrugged. "Let's hit the highway."

  * * * * *

  The wind whipped through her hair and put a smile on her face. Annie felt free, enjoying the trees on either side of the two-lane road as they sped along at a dangerous speed. "Faster, lover," she yelled in his ear and rubbed his groin to get her point across.

  Carl complied with a laugh and the Harley accelerated down the road.

  Annie ignored the signs around her - the burnt-out cars, smoke in the distance, body parts littering the side of the road - and studied the houses they past, wondering what the inside looked like. Maybe, after they'd settled, she'd take a trip back here with Carl and find a nice house to live in.

  Carl screamed a second before Annie felt weightless, the sky twisting-turning and the pavement rushing to meet her face-first. Everything went black.

  * * * * *

  She heard the noise as she came to, a strange sound she couldn't place. Her eyes felt swollen, crusted with something, her mouth tasting like iron.

  It was daybreak. The sun was trying to fight its way out from between the trees on the side of the road and Annie was fighting to stay conscious.

  She managed to roll over and was shocked to see the amount of blood she was lying in. She didn't know if it was all hers.

  The noise came again. Annie shook the cobwebs from her head and lifted to one elbow, pain flaring in her arm but she knew it wasn't broken. She didn't think anything was actually wrecked. Only the Harley, she thought bitterly.

  It came back to her now, the drive through Florida, Carl in front of her, the beautiful weather, and then… the crash?

  "Carl?" she said, her voice cracked through her bloody, dry lips. She'd spent the night on the side of the highway unconscious. But still alive.

  When she finally got on her feet she was wobbly but the blood was moving again and she was fine. Annie turned and was shocked to see how far the Harley was from her, on its side down the road. She looked back for Carl and to see what they'd hit, but there was nothing.

  She called his name again, louder this time. Three steps from the Harley she saw him, on the side of the road. With a dirty child feasting on his left leg.

  Annie moved to the bike and found her tire iron in the saddlebag. With a renewed purpose she approached the creature, who had stopped biting Carl and stared at her with a dead glare.

  Carl suddenly stood and for a brief moment she was happy, thinking he'd somehow survived the night and the biting and would help her deal with the monster and then they'd finish their ride to Daytona Beach and spend the rest of their life together.

  He opened his mouth and stumbled toward her. Annie knew at that point that he was gone. His eyes were glazed over.

  Annie held her ground, hefting the tire iron. She'd come this far without having to deal directly with the undead.

  She cried, realizing her first one would be someone she actually had feelings for.

  Clothes Shopping

  Darlene Bobich didn't know which part was worse right now: being naked on the cold streets of Buffalo, New York or the fact there was a zombie apocalypse happening all around her.


  She decided that in the 'right here, right now' the freezing naked thing took precedence over the undead thing, so she tried doors and windows as she made her way down a suburban neighborhood that had been relatively unscathed. Here and there a home had been torched and most of the cars on the street were demolished, but the lawns were overgrown but not trampled like she'd seen everywhere else.

  Houses, dark, stared back at her. To her right a pickup truck, doors open, was halfway backed out of the driveway. Across the street the front door had been ripped off its hinges and propped against the bushes.

  Darlene realized the block reminded her of home, even though she was hundreds of miles away. The pretty, well-kept middle-class block, rows of likable houses. She imagined the kids coming inside just before dark, mom fixing dinner while dad pulled up in his Camry and parked next to mom's mini-van.

  Her daydreaming was shattered by the crash of glass somewhere close by. She ran across the street and up the driveway since the house looked still intact.

  The front door was locked and she heard footsteps, slow and methodical, from the street. Without streetlights and with only the thin moon above everything was in silhouette, but she didn't need to see to know there were undead in the area.

  Darlene ran to the garage side of the house and around through the side yard, careful not to crash into the low bushes or make any noise. The side door was locked as well, but not the back gate to the yard.

  She entered, Desert Eagle drawn, hand shaking, with only moonlight for a guide. Every shadow moved and attacked her and she had to stop and close her eyes and breathe before she panicked.