Still Dying: Select Scenes From Dying Days Read online

  Cursing, he poured the last cup of coffee and went into the living room. Since his acceptance to the Big Time of Authordom he decided he didn't need to write about any more zombies or horror crap until he met with his new publisher. Why waste time writing unless he needed to? He didn't need to waste time submitting to anthologies and magazines again, and he'd shut down the blog soon enough. He'd stop obsessively adding friends to Twitter and Facebook and let the fans find him now. All those award winning and NYT best selling authors with fifty thousand followers who only followed twenty people would now try to be his friend.

  He turned the television on while he sipped his coffee, scanning for baseball news or a show about sharks or serial killers. He was also quite fond of food shows, even though he ate M&M's at least two meals a day.

  "What is this shit?" he asked. Most of the channels were following various live news feeds. He figured it was a political speech or some shit he didn’t need to know about, or maybe a school shooting.

  When he stopped at CNN and the words Zombies In Boston flashed on the bottom of the screen he laughed. Was it April Fools Day? Yet another one of those zombie walks that were so popular? But if it was, these idiots were going way too far with the theatrics. Armand loved to see pictures from these zombie walks, if only to see hot chicks dressed up in skimpy nurse outfits, covered in blood and showing off their cleavage or big asses.

  He loved big asses…

  He switched the channel to local news and there was more of the same. "Am I missing something?"

  Armand grabbed his house phone (it was still on, only because he had it bundled with the internet and cable TV and he was too lazy to figure out how to cancel it) and dialed a fellow zombie author, Mark Tufo. He lived in Boston and would know what was going on.

  "Dude, the zombies are real! This is wicked scary. Protect yourself and your loved ones," Mark said in his thick New England accent before the phone went dead.

  A call to Portland Oregon and zombie author Todd Brown yielded the same bizarre conversation. "Portland is now overrun! Denise and I started our zombie apocalypse plans. Good luck! And, Armand… I always thought you were a bit gruff."

  His third and final call went out to author Bryan Hall, who didn’t write about zombies but was a good guy nonetheless. North Carolina was apparently also under attack. "They're everywhere. I'm prepared, so it's no big deal. I stocked up on microbrews and ammo. I'll just relax and wait it out. Any news on the book deal?" Bryan asked. Armand hung up on him.

  This was bad. Really bad. He went through a list in his head of other authors he could contact: Billie, Stacey, Allison, Vix, Jaime (two of them), Caren, Kat, Suzi, Doree, Susan… but he couldn't remember which ones had blocked him on Facebook and he knew at least one of them had a restraining order against him… better to put the phone down and figure out a game plan.

  He'd need a machete, months of food and drink, a first aid kit, batteries and a radio, and plenty of toilet paper. He stood on his bulbous ankles (kankles?) and went to find his boat shoes. Armand could slip those on and begin his walk to the nearest Publix with his shopping list.

  He went outside, the sun slamming into his pasty skin like a fireball. He hated being out of the house, unless it was to get the mail. Even then it was a bitch.

  The top of the block looked a million miles away. Is this even worth it? How long can I possibly live on my own without the internet and good food?

  No more M&M's? Fuck that.

  Armand went back inside, leaving the front door open as a welcome invitation to any nearby zombies, took out all the M&M's bags and poured them into a mixing bowl. He sat on the couch, muted the TV volume and put some Slayer on his tinny computer speakers.

  He put his feet up on the coffee table, watched the world die, gorged on mouthfuls of M&M's and hummed along to "Dead Skin Mask" until the first shadow in the doorway moved.

  Author Notes

  Thirteen short stories set in the Dying Days world, and some friends old and new.

  I realized after I finished Dying Days 2 that there were some great stories that needed to be told featuring some of the characters created just for that book. I decided to write a few short stories and worry about what I was going to do with them later.

  Readers of the series so far will recognize Michael Ross, Russ 'Madman' Meyer, Steve 'The Breeze' Brack, David Monsour and Tosha Shorb. I've created a few new characters I hope you will enjoy, and won't be surprised to see some of them in future stories.

  You'll also be happy to know that a Dying Days 3 is already in the works, and will be out in early 2013.

  But fear not! There will be two novellas released beforehand, great prequel stories of two characters first featured in Dying Days 2 and appearing in this collection: David Monsour and Tosha Shorb, both starring in the spin-off Dying Days: Origins books.

  In fact, what follows is a raw preview of the first in the series, featuring the beginnings of Tosha Shorb. This is the unedited first draft, but I wanted to share it with you.

  Look for it in Fall 2012.

  As always, I thank you for reading my work and I am truly honored you spent your money on me. I hope to keep writing work you deem necessary to read.

  Armand Rosamilia

  Dying Days: Origins

  Chapter One: Notorious

  The apartment was cramped, smoky and the radio way too loud for the neighbors. Tosha Shorb tried to get to the window to open it despite the cold night, but several drunks were in her way.

  "Excuse me," she asked the guy in front of her. He ignored her.

  She was tired - she'd worked a double today - and, despite three shots was still sober. And now she was sweating because forty people were crammed into this shitty apartment.

  "Excuse me," she said louder, trying to talk over the inane pop music blasting. When he glanced down at her and smirked, putting his beer can to his lips, she lost it. Before she could think she'd swung around and smashed him in the face, the can crushing on his face and beer exploding in all directions.

  "What the fuck?" he managed, and took a defensive position even as blood and beer streamed down his face and chest. He cocked his fist to punch but stopped, staring at his attacker.

  Tosha was a slight redhead with piercing eyes, which were now filled with rage. She looked much younger than her twenty-seven years, which wasn't a good thing when you worked in a hospital and patients never took you seriously when you came for blood-work.

  She put her hands on her hips, aware the music had been turned down and all eyes on her. As usual. Glad her twin sister wasn't here to give her the motherly look, she tried to remain calm. "I asked you to move."

  The guy laughed. "Are you even allowed in here, little girl? What are you, twelve?"

  There were a few snickers from those guests that didn't know Tosha. To her friends and those aware of her reputation, they knew what was coming and took two steps back.

  The rage was building. She had two choices: turn and walk out and go home, or take action.

  She put her right foot back a step at the same time he wiped his face and winked at her. Tosha tipped her weight forward with her hard leather boot swinging, catching him squarely in the groin.

  As he doubled over, dropping to one knee, she leaned over and got in his face. "I'm allowed wherever the fuck I want, you fat piece of shit." Tosha winked at him as people grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away.

  "I think you need to leave," someone said to her.

  "Of course. You can't have some little girl in here kicking dude's asses, can you?" Tosha shrugged off their grip and gave them the finger as she left.

  Chapter Two: Flesh Eater

  It was cold but her rage kept her more than warm. Her Lizzy Borden concert shirt - she'd picked it up in Allentown during their last U.S. tour - was sticking to her chest and her tight blue jeans were starting to bother her. Her toes still felt numb after kicking the guy in the balls, and the thought of it made her laugh.

  The streets o
f Harrisburg were empty, as usual. "Should've listened to Trista and stayed in." Her sister was the introverted one, preferring to sit home after work and play videogames online with her imaginary friends instead of going out into the actual world and talking to actual people.

  She even preferred to be called by her stupid online name, Mathyu. Tosha didn't know if that was the dumb part, or the fact that she'd started addressing her sister by the name.

  In order to get to her apartment she cut through an alley between the McDonalds and the Harrisburg Laundromat. It always smelled bad down here, but it was much worse during the summer, when the garbage heated up, rotten food and dead rats stinking. The bums loved this alley because the fast food garbage was tossed in the dumpster, and they'd rip the bags apart and feast.

  Tosha decided to sleep in tomorrow, burying herself in her pillows and stuffed animals on her bed, curtains drawn, and threaten her sister to not wake her unless the world was ending.

  She was so focused on her thoughts she stumbled into the bum, standing in the dark in the middle of the alley.

  "Watch where you're going," she said loudly. Usually when you shouted or acted crazier than they did, the bums would leave you alone.

  He didn't move.

  When she tried to sidestep him he grabbed her left arm. He leaned into her and his breath was like rotting meat and bile. Tosha nearly gagged, but knew she had to get away from this crack-head or drunk and escape before she was raped.

  "Back off, dickhead," she said and pushed him away. He simply reached for her again. Tosha easily moved around him and ran down to the other end of the alley. When she looked back he was walking slowly toward her. "Fuck you, asshole. Maybe I'll call the cops."

  He kept coming with that staggered, insanely slow stutter step. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Was he fucking with me, trying to freak me out? Playing some game?

  As he got closer she tried to see his face, but it was too dark. Was he smiling, laughing, stoned? Tosha had all kinds of overdoses in the hospital, and she'd seen too many drug addicts with faraway stares or looks like they wanted to kill you.

  She walked backwards to the other side of the street, aware she was alone. A quick glance north and south confirmed her fear. There wasn't a person out this time of night. No cars went by on the cross streets, she didn't hear traffic, not even a train rumbling by.

  It felt like an hour but he finally made it to the end of the alley and stepped out onto the sidewalk and under the street light.

  Tosha gasped. He was covered in blood, his mouth dripping with it.

  "Is this some fucking joke, asshole? It's not funny. Did you come from that lame party, and think you can fuck with me?"

  She puffed out her chest and planted her feet. She was headstrong and didn't run away from a challenge, even if it was a dumb idea. Her past was littered with dumb ideas, and she thought this was about to be another one.

  "Last chance to leave me alone," she said. He took another three steps forward, within ten feet, when she gasped.

  Something wet and bloody fell from his mouth and to the pavement. His eyes were glazed over and dead, his mouth slowly moving like he was biting the air. His arms were bent forward, straining at her.

  "Fuck this," she muttered and turned and ran.

  Chapter Three: No Time To Lose

  Tosha, out of breath, slammed the apartment door behind her and locked it, even the security chain. "Mathyu?" she called, hating that she'd used the nickname.

  "In here."

  Tosha went into the living room and wasn't surprised to see her sister, in her sweatpants and matching sweatshirt, spread out on the couch. Her fingers worked a videogame controller, a bag of chips at her feet.

  "I hit level sixty just now."

  "I need to talk to you." Tosha sat down on the arm of the couch.

  Her sister ignored her as she played.

  "Something happened tonight."

  "Did you get into a fight again?"

  Tosha laughed. Her twin knew her too well. They didn't have that Twilight Zone mind-link or anything psychic, but they knew the other one better than anyone. "Well, yeah, I got into a fight. But that's not what I'm talking about."

  "No one was on tonight."

  "Huh?" Tosha said.

  Mathyu pointed at the television and then picked up her headphones, sitting next to her on the couch. "There are only a few people playing tonight."

  "Normal people are out drinking, dancing, actually talking to real people."

  Her sister shook her head. "You don't understand. Even on a slow night I have a choice of talking or playing with seventy different players, mostly in the hundreds." Mathyu dug a hand into the potato chip bag. "Tonight there are four others online, and no one I deal with. It's weird."

  "Can you pause that for a second? I had a really weird night, and I need to tell you about it."

  "Yeah, I'm going to turn it off anyway. It's boring tonight."

  "There was this weird guy in the alley."

  "Which one?"

  Which guy or which alley?" Tosha asked. Her sister had an annoying habit of interrupting stories to ask questions, like she was a detective. "Can I tell the story?"

  Mathyu shrugged with a grin. "It's your story." She logged off of her game.

  "Anyway, I tried to walk past him but he reached out and grabbed my shoulder."

  "Did you punch him out? Sorry, go ahead."

  "I pushed him away and ran."

  "Great story." Mathyu said and switched on the television.

  "You don't understand." Tosha stood up. "He was, I can't explain it, he was bloody and had strange eyes. There was something fucked up about him. His eyes were… dead. I know that sounds weird."

  "Actually, not really." Mathyu pointed at the television and turned up the volume. "What's going on, Tosh?"

  The scene on the TV was chaos, with a news chopper flying overhead and getting staggered shots of a large riot in downtown Pittsburgh.

  As the camera zoomed in closer at least three people, covered in gore, were biting into the limbs of a small child.

  "What the fuck is going on?" Tosha said and stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  Her sister pointed to the top right of the screen. "What are they doing to that guy?"

  Tosha felt like throwing up. "They're… it looks like…"

  "Are they raping him?"

  "Yes," Tosha said quietly. "I could've been raped tonight."

  When the power suddenly went out both girls screamed, the darkness absolute, especially with it being a cloudy night.

  "Where did you put the flashlights?" Mathyu asked.

  "I didn't touch them. Do we have candles?"

  The two collided in the dark and something cracked.

  "That better not be my game system," Mathyu said.

  Tosha struggled through their apartment's clutter to the window and pulled the blinds up, but it only offered a bit of light. Even the streetlight was out.

  Mathyu turned on a flashlight and handed one to Tosha.

  "What do we do now?" Tosha asked. She pulled out her cell phone. "Who do we even call at this point?"

  "The police, I would think."

  Tosha laughed. "Like no one else thought of calling the cops about this?"

  Mathyu shrugged and found her cell phone and sat on the couch.

  "What are you doing?" Tosha asked.

  "Angry Birds."

  "Are you serious? We need to do something."

  Mathyu shrugged. "Do what? We can't go anywhere, there's no one to call, and it's really cold outside. It will probably start snowing heavily in the next hour. I say we put on some warm clothes, chill on the couch, and play games until morning. Have you seen my GameBoy?"

  "Seriously? You're going to crash on the couch like nothing is going on and play videogames?"

  Mathyu seemed to think about it for a moment. "Yes. We need more candles."

  "Unreal." Tosha was starting to get cold and de
cided to strip out of her 'sexy going-out clothes' and into something warm and comfy. It was going to be a long night.

  As her sister found her handheld gaming system, Tosha decided to grab something to eat from the refrigerator. "Want anything before I open this? No idea how long the power will be out and everything will go bad."

  "A yogurt would be cool, and maybe some of the avocado dip."

  "Yuck." Tosha picked out two cold beers, a plate of cold pizza and some turkey, ham and Swiss cheese to make a sandwich. Her side of the fridge was filled with meats, cake, pizza, beer, candy bars and enough junk food to kill someone. Mathyu was a vegetarian, with the three crisper drawers packed with green vegetables and fruit, a stack of yogurt, mineral water, natural juices and weird-looking and -smelling dips for her wheat crackers.

  Tosha left her items on the counter to get to room temperature while she went to her chaotic bedroom. When she opened the door piles of her clothes littered the ground, although she had a system (she thought): clothes in the closet were clean, those just outside the closet relatively clean, and then her kinda-dirty clothes near the bed and the shit that stunk near the door. Once the smell was overpowering she'd pick up the last stack and wash them.

  Her Muhlenberg College sweatshirt (an old boyfriend had gone there and bought it for her, right before he cheated on her) and gray sweatpants were thrown on. She decided against bra and underwear, getting comfortable. She grabbed her pillows and her comforter from the bed and decided her and her sister would make this into a sleepover and have some fun before they froze to death.

  They spent the next two hours talking about their childhood, making fun of each other, and bonding like they were six again. Wrapped in every blanket they had in the apartment, they drank and ate and fell asleep on the living room floor, the candles burning out and the world just outside their window going to Hell.