When is it too much? When does on person simply go through enough horror and finally sit their ass down on the side of the road and wait for death to catch up with them? For some of us the answer is NEVER! – We loudly proclaim that there is no amount of suffering too great for our indomitable spirit. We have endless energy and resolve. We can not, neigh, we WIL NOT be beaten, ever. Never ever. Ever. Never.
We say that sitting in our houses, watching TV or reading a book. We watch shows of the apocalypse, movies where the dead walk or some tragedy leaves the weak shattered and weeping while the stronger of our kind muddles on, always fighting, always surviving, always hoping. We can do that, we can fight endlessly, and we can win.
It’s easy to say from the comfort of our own homes, or some other safe place. It’s real easy to talk about in the local bar, as you discuss last nights episode of the Walking Dead, or over discussions of Books like the Road by Cormac McCarthy, or movies like Night of the Living Dead, Return of the Living Dead, or 28 Days Later. It’s easy, because we aren’t going through it. So few times in our lives are we faced with something so incredible that it tests our resolve. I’ve been in these situations before, and I can tell you it’s just so amazingly easy to lie down and die…
But some of us don’t. Some of us fight on, even when the odds are against us. It’s why we like movies about the underdog, the David and Goliath’s, 300 Spartan’s in the mountains of Thermopylae. We like to see ourselves as warriors who can’t be beat simply because we want to win more than the other guy.
What happens when the other guy doesn’t want to win? What happens when he just doesn’t know that he can loose? What happens when he is a brain dead monster that’s too stupid to understand your gun beats his gnashing, broken teeth?
Aim a gun at someone, they flinch, wet themselves, and sometimes beg. Point a gun at a zombie and it just keeps coming. There is no fear of death; they are already dead. They don’t understand. The only thing squirming around their brains, besides maggots and the occasional blowfly, is hunger. Some underlying need to eat parts of you, but not so much that you can’t get up yourself and increase their numbers. Hit them in the face with a shovel, they keep coming. Break their legs, they don’t show pain, they just move on, crawling if they need to, until the can get you in their rotting, brittle hands. They don’t need to see, or hear, so go ahead and cut out their eyes, take out their tongue and stick spikes in their ears. Torture them, Burn them, pour acid over them and watch the skin melt.
They. Don’t. Care.
It’s one of the reasons we like them so much. They are machines; killing and eating machines that just keep coming. There is one chance, and one chance only, at killing them; destroy the brain.
Vampires can’t go out in the sun. They are allergic to garlic. Wooden stakes kill them. Being decapitated kills them. Traditional vampires couldn’t even cross running water, and if they got too far from home turf they died, carrying grave dirt in their coffins to keep strengthening up. Now, the modern ones SPARKLE in the sunlight, and are so full of brooding, conflicting emotions they don’t know if they want to drink your blood or go with you to the mall and get a mani/pedi. WHAT A BUNCH OF PUSSIES!
Werewolves only have a small window around the full moon. They can be killed by silver, wolfsbane, decapitation, and occasionally get put to sleep in pounds across the country because people refuse to adopt, choosing instead to seek out breeders because they want “purebreds.” When they aren’t on their monthly cycle they aren’t anything special. Sure, they need to shave more often, but outside of a rather hectic waxing schedule there isn’t anything scary about the,. Even the more modern werewolves that can change at will don’t, because they are too scared of being discovered. Again; PUSSIES!
Zombies don’t care what you think. They are the Emo kids hanging in the back of the school, smoking some non-conformist cigarette, happy to be outsiders, happy to lurk in the shadows. They ignore their parents when told that they should join the football team or cheerleading squad. Hell, sometimes they just kill their parents for such a brash suggestion, eating around the soft parts that hurt more and taste oh so very good.
That’s why I like writing about Zombies. They are bad ass. They don’t like you; they only want to kill you. There is no reasoning with them; no sharing your feelings and telling them you’re tortured too. Fuck you. I will walk after you. Feel free to run because sooner of later you will get tired, and I won’t. Ever. Then, while your back is to the wall and you’re huffing and puffing I’ll emerge from down the hall, lurch slowly towards you, and drag you to hell, kicking and screaming as I eat your fucking intestines.
Now, I want to share a small excerpt from the second book in my zombie series.
“You know how to use that?” The cop called over to Jarrod, motioning with his head to the gun.
“Yeah. I’m a cop.”
“Good. Don’t.” The cop holstered his gun and opened the back door of his cruiser, reaching in and removing two axes. The handles were weathered, smeared with a dark, rust colored substance, the heads chipped and slicked with gore. He handed one to Jarrod and regarded Stacy with a nod of his head and the tip of his hat.
“M’am.” He looked back at Jarrod and smacked him on the shoulder. “The sound draws others. Whenever possible we don’t shoot.” He began to walk forward, Jarrod keeping pace next to him. “Aim for the head, hitting them in the temple if possible.”
To display his theory the cop lifted the axe in both hands and swung it like a baseball bat, striking the lead zombie directly in the temple. The hollow thud of metal striking a skull sounded across the morning, echoing off the mountains and fading. Blood, bone, and brains sailed through the air. A fine mist of blood splattered the blade of the axe as bone cracked and the head imbedded inside the skull. The dead man dropped and twitching a few times before remaining still. Watery gray and yellow liquid oozed from the wound as they cop worked the blade around, the scraping sound of metal on bone not loud enough to block out the moaning from the dead as they continued to approach.
While the cop struggled to pull the axe from the corpses head Jarrod stepped to the side and swung, striking the next closest man in the side of the head. The blade wasn’t perfectly straight, the edge angle up enough to cause it to skip a little on the hard bone before cracking through near the top and cleaving the apex of the skull off. The zombie took two more steps forward, its body jerking as the already limited brain struggled to compensate for the damage done by Jarrod and his axe. Finally, the dead man collapsed, and Jarrod twisted the handle, driving the blade deeper and pressing it into the grey matter. The stench coming out of the head nearly made Jarrod gag. While he worked at removing the axe head from his victim’s skull the cop killed the third.
“Thanks for the help officer.” He extended his hand and Jarrod took it, smiling.
“Anytime.”
“Where you headed?”
“Little town called Amos. I used to go hunting there, figure it’s as good a spot as any to hide out while the shit hits the fan.”
It’s gory, depressing version of the end of days I am sharing with you. I like getting blood under my fingernails, and none of my characters are safe. I have plans for each and every one of them, and I hope you are there to curse me for killing off your favorites. Or not killing them off, or only kinda killing them off and leaving them to walk the earth endlessly as zombies.
Obviously, I want everyone to read my books. I want to run through the streets screaming about it, mouth glued to a megaphone as I disturb the peace, possible while wearing a pink, frilly nightgown, curlers in my hair, and slippers made of still living bunnies. I’ll endlessly put bright red lipstick on, swirling it around my pretty mouth while I shout “I’m Christian Jensen! BUY MY BOOKS!”
OK, to be honest I tried it, and the cost of my court fees prohibit I continue to try such marketing tactics. So instead, as a bit of incentive I am offering the following deal:
1. Buy a copy of my book ZOMBIES!…The beginning of the END on Kindle, Nook, or Smashwords,
2. Read it
3. Review it
4. Send an E-mail to mssproductions@verizon.net with your name, email address, and where the review is (Amazon, B&N, Smashwords)
When you have done those 4 things I will send you a FREE book. Not just any book, but The Bitch, my five star reviewed first novel. You will get a FREE .PDF version mailed to your in-box as soon as I substantiate your review.
Already own The BITCH? Pick any of my other novels and receive it for FREE.
If you run another blog or review site and chose to review ZOMBIES!… let me know and I will send you The first three books in the Witches House series; The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed. All FREE, all via .PDF to your email address.
And WAIT! It gets better! This special deal runs from now till the end of OCTOBER! On November first I will take all the people that reviewed my book and place their name in a hat, get one of my kids incredibly drunk, spin him around the room until he vomits, and then have him pick a name out of the hat.
That person gets the first print copy of ALL 3 Witches House books, The Bitch, Stanley, and The Evil Breed sent to their door. PLUS the very first print copy of the Witches House Collection, complete with edited scenes, deleted chapters, and the first three chapters of the 4th book in the series; Phoenix.
So get busy. Spend $0.99 and receive a FREE book and a chance to win over $35 in more FREE books.
Oh man - I suck! And not in a sparkly vampire kinda' way. I just saw your post today. But, I've been trolling for some new reading material, so I'll go check out your books anyway ;-) Fair warning - I'm not an official "reviewer", but I occasionally review on my erotica blog. Cheers!
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