Teaser: Jamie Friesen #WinterofZombie

ZNIC 1st Period Ebook Cover

Teaser – Zombie Night in Canada: First Period



“Gentlemen, it’s going to be a race to get to the cars, so I suggest you hurry. Larry and Greg, run to the Sheriff’s office and see if there is more ammo and maybe some working flashlights. We’ll meet you at the ramp by the fountain in one minute,” Darryl said. “If you’re not there in time, we’ll leave you behind. Got it?”

“Got it!” they echoed.

Just then the doors to the Bowker Building opened again and dozens of infected streamed out.  The two groups raced off. John and Darryl reloaded as they ran and got to the stairs, hiding behind a planter filled with sub tropical plants, with the older men a dozen steps behind them. Sunlight poured in from a skylight and illuminated the area. Greg glanced out the windows and saw that the Legislative Grounds were filled with dozens more infected. When the old men had finally caught up to them, they raced down the stairs. John tossed a table onto its side and shoved all three of them behind it.

“Stay,” he ordered tersely.

Larry and Greg followed Darryl’s orders and raced into the office. Greg ran into the back room and fired his pistol twice into a locked cabinet. The lock shattered and he ripped it open, pulling out a pair of pump action shotguns. He loaded shells into each and stuffed more in his vest pockets. He stuffed several pistol magazines in as well and scrambled back out to the front office, where Larry was tearing a desk apart looking for batteries.

“I can’t find any!” Larry hollered.

“Forget the batteries, let’s get going!” Greg yelled, grabbing a jacket off a nearby chair and threw it on.

Greg tossed a shotgun to Larry and jammed the half empty box of shells into his hands. Then he tore out the door without another word. Larry pulled one last drawer open and yelled, “Jackpot!” He stuffed a couple packs of batteries into his over-sized pockets and followed Greg out the door, tossing on a heavy jacket as well.  A second later, Larry heard a shotgun blast. As he ran out into the hallway, he saw Greg standing there, firing his shotgun into a huge group of infected, blood and flesh exploding from the lifeless victims.

“This way,” Larry shouted and raced for the ramp that spiraled down to the lower level. Greg followed, and they took turns, running and firing, covering each other’s back whenever possible. They made it to the bottom of the ramp and saw John and Darryl firing into a group of infected, coming down the stairs that were located at the south edge of the ramp. The premier and cabinet ministers huddled in abject fear only a few feet away.

The infected from the Bowker Building were coming down the ramp and Larry turned and fired at them. In the narrow confines of the ramp, every shot finished off several infected, but their numbers suddenly seemed limitless. Dozens, if not hundreds, poured down the ramp from the ground floor.

Darryl’s pistol’s slide jacked back as the magazine emptied. “Did you find us any ammo?” he screamed at Greg.

Greg tossed over all four of the magazines he had found. Darryl shoved one in and resumed firing. Suddenly the way was clear.

“Let’s go!” Darryl hollered.

He grabbed the premier and then both he and John raced down the tunnel towards the parking lot. The two cabinet ministers followed in their steps, with the two young sheriffs firing into the ever expanding pack of infected. A door to the Legislative Annex on their left from opened, and more infected flooded into the hallway as they ran past it.

“Sir, run for the end of the hallway!” John yelled. Charchuk and two cabinet ministers continued down the darkened tunnel.

John and Darryl stopped and fired point blank into the infected.

“Last magazine, make ‘em count!” Darryl said over the gunfire to John, as he passed him a magazine. John nodded.

“Greg, Larry, come on!” Darryl shouted, as the sheriffs were on the verge of being cut off by the host of infected flowing from the Annex. They ran backwards and stood shoulder to shoulder with Darryl and John. Natural light from three periscopes flooded the hallway with an eerie light, adding to the emergency lights mounted on high on the walls.

John and Darryl fired again and again until both were out of ammunition. Darryl’s gun clicked on an empty chamber. He glanced around, looking for something, anything to hold off the infected. He ran to several nearby display cases, marked ‘Alberta Legislature’, which had a display about the provincial government. One cabinet was stuffed with replicas of both the Legislature’s mace and several medieval-era battle maces, and he smashed the glass with butt of his pistol.  He jammed the pistol back into its holster and reached into the case, pulling out a pair of wicked looking maces and leaving the gaudy, gold-painted Legislative replica behind.

He ran back to John and gave him one, then attacked the infected reaching for him with an over-handed swing. The mace came down and crushed the infected teenager’s skull, sending blood and brain matter in every direction. John emulated him and they cut a bloody swath through the infected. The young sheriffs, also out of ammunition, were now using the butt end of their shotguns like clubs to fend off the infected.

They fell back slowly, responding to any attempt by the infected to get around them. Bit by bit, they were moving closer and closer to the parkade.



Links for people to purchase it.


Zombie Night in Canada: First Period on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Zombie-Night-Canada-Period-ebook/dp/B007KR4OYY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1331903528&sr=8-1

Zombie Night in Canada: First Period on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/zombie-night-in-canada-1st/id512488189?mt=11

Zombie Night in Canada: First Period on Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Zombie-Night-Canada-1st-Period/book-QnhmRyM8rEOYpj1viSJqdQ/page1.html?s=hub_WJapRkiLIyhbWElDmg&r=1

Zombie Night in Canada: First Period (Paperback) on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Zombie-Night-Canada-First-Period/dp/1475057229/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1363628191&sr=8-8&keywords=zombie+night+in+canada


*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!

Teaser: P Mark DeBryan #WinterofZombie

Family Reunion

Family Reunion 09/15

The screaming finally stopped, but that didn’t make me feel any better about being jammed into a stinky janitorial closet. I continued to listen to those damn things banging around out in the passenger cabin, whatever they were. It seemed like the power to the ferry had been cut off and we were drifting—there was no vibration from the engines, none of the hum associated with being underway. It was the last ferry of the night, and as such, was nearly empty. There had been about ten or fifteen people in the seating area and snack bar when the crewman went nuts.

My name is Ryan Brant, and I’ve seen some violence in my fifty-four years, but nothing like what happened as I stepped off the stairs into the large passenger area. On the late-night rides, the lights are turned off in some sections to afford the luxury of semi-darkness to those who want to nap. At first, squinting through the dimmed lighting, I saw what I thought was just a fistfight and moved in to break it up. I am a big guy: 6´2˝, 290 pounds, and most people respect my size. Even at my age, the shenanigans stop when I make my presence known. I grabbed the guy on top by the back of his coveralls and pulled. He wasn’t that big, and I figured he would thank me once I disentangled him from the fight. As I yanked on him, I was impressed that he didn’t immediately lose his grip on the other guy.

Amidst the struggle, I caught a glance of the other guy and saw it wasn’t a guy at all; it was a woman, albeit a rather large woman. My anger rose and I put my weight into pulling this punk off her. All of a sudden, there was blood—lots of blood. I quickly looked for the source.

Did he have a knife?

For a split second, I heard my wife’s voice in my head. “You had to make it your business, didn’t you? Couldn’t just turn around and go back to your car?”

My next thought was, I’m too old for this shit.

I let go of the kid and took a step back to figure out the best course of action. Looking for his weapon and getting my bearings at the same time, I heard a scream from the dark corner to my left. Returning my attention to the melee before me, I almost lost my cookies. The kid was now gnawing on her. Her screams of terror and pain were the worst I’ve ever heard. He wasn’t just biting her—he was eating her!

Something deep in my mind clicked. This is off-the-charts weird. This is not something you can deal with. Get to a safe place, hide, and reevaluate.

The only place I could see handy was the janitor’s closet.





*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!

Teaser: Joseph A Coley #WinterofZombie

All5 cover

Curtis casually stepped on the power company zombie’s back, pinning him down. He knelt down and ended the creature’s existence with a swift stab to the back of the skull with 1095 Cro-van steel. Curtis wiped the business end of the knife on the power company zombie’s khaki pants before putting it away in its sheath.

“Nasty bastards. I’m with you on the whole ‘getting back to normal’ thing, Keith. This shit used to be a challenge. Feels more like a job now.”

Keith forced open the flimsy door. “Yeah, well it is the shittiest job I believe I’ve ever had, and I worked for some uppity assholes before I became a cop.”

“Like what?” Curtis asked pushing the zombie aside with his foot.

“In college I worked landscaping for some rich fuckers in New York. Builds character, but I had to listen to more than my fair share of well-to-do assholes complain about how their hedges weren’t exactly the same height. I paid my way through college with a shitload of blood and sweat.”

“Fair enough.” Curtis removed the SINCGARS from his own pack and carried it into the radio shack. “Time to see if all this work has paid off. Let’s get this thing hooked up and…” Curtis trailed off, noting that Keith was no longer in his presence. He looked left and right swiftly, finally spotting his partner.

Keith had wandered away from the door and to a spot on the other side of the ridge. Since they were at one of the highest points in the area, a little recon was in order. Keith stood at the top of the ridge and peered through a set of binoculars. The magnification wasn’t the greatest on the old set, but he saw something that warranted another look. He pulled the binoculars away from his eyes and waved Curtis over.

“Curtis, you better take a look at this,” Keith said, his voice on the edge of cracking.

Curtis sat the SINCGARS down and joined Keith on the side of the hill. “What’s up, brother?”

Keith silently handed him the binoculars, never taking his eyes off what lay in front of him. Curtis frowned at him and pulled the binoculars to his own eyes. After a few seconds of scanning, he saw what had given Keith so much worry.

The main four-lane road stretched out a mile or so beneath them, travelling east/west. From their vantage point, they could see almost all the way to Bluefield, nearly five miles away. It was the same road that Joe and the rest of the team had taken a week or so ago in the mission to the East River tunnel. The road had been sparsely populated with undead, except for one notable exception – the tunnel itself. The East River tunnel had been packed with thousands of zombies a little over a week ago.

Curtis lowered the binoculars. “Let’s get the radio up and running. We need to get on the horn with Joe and the rest of the boys. We’ve got a big fucking problem.”

*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!

Teaser: Scott M Baker #WinterofZombie

book -- Rotter Nation

Winter of Zombie 2015 Teaser for Rotter Nation:


Mike Robson stood behind the barricade of Jersey barriers. To his rear lay the southern ramp to Tukey Bridge. Ahead of him, Portland was silent and surprisingly deserted of rotters. That only increased his apprehension of having sent out Dravko and Tibor to scout the area. He reasoned that being vampires they had the best chance of surveying the city and making it back on their own. They had been gone for over three hours and should have returned long ago, unless something had happened to them. He stared into the night, wondering what lay in the darkness.

“Where are they?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be back soon.” Natalie Bazargan reached out and slid her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Robson appreciated the gesture. He couldn’t help but notice that, as she spoke, Natalie scanned the area to check on her Angels, making sure the twelve girls were in place and prepared to defend against an attack.

Not that he could blame her. Everyone who had survived the expedition to Site R to retrieve the vaccine to the Zombie Virus was unusually jittery, which was to be expected after watching so many of their group get killed in the underground complex. And that didn’t include the three they had lost on the way to Pennsylvania. Because of this, he had chosen an alternate route home that went due north through the countryside before swinging east in central New Hampshire, bypassing the rotter-infested cities they had driven through on the first leg of their journey, not to mention the rape gang they had encountered outside of Barnston. The return trip added more than a hundred miles and two days to their travel time, although it did have the advantage of avoiding major population centers. At least it had until the group reached Portland, where they found that Route 95, the primary highway running parallel to the Maine coast, was impassible due to a multi-vehicle collision that blocked all the southbound lanes and created a “gawk factor” traffic jam heading north. Backtracking to the Maine Turnpike, the group cut across to coastal Route 1 and again headed south until they reached the city limits where a roadblock across the Tukey Bridge barred their path into the city. The presence of the abandoned barrier didn’t bother Robson as much as there being no signs of a struggle or of rotters. Because his gut feeling told him something wasn’t right, he had sent out Dravko and Tibor to investigate.

Right about now, Robson regretted being so damn overcautious.

“We should have tried to maneuver around that accident on 95,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Natalie reassured him. “The Hummers would have been able to navigate the median, but the school bus and Ryder would never have made it.”

Robson glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. “I shouldn’t have sent them out on their own. We should have made a dash for it.”

“That worked so well for us in Glens Falls and Montoursville.” Natalie sighed and squeezed his hand tighter. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“It’s true.” Robson had lost too many people retrieving this damn vaccine, and had compensated by becoming cautious. Maybe too cautious. Being overly hesitant could just as easily get them killed.

“There!” Natalie let go of Robson’s hand and pointed toward movement in the darkness. Robson raised his Atchisson AA-12 assault shotgun, an automatic version of a shotgun that held twenty rounds in a drum magazine. Off to the left and right, Ari and Emily raised their M-16A2 semi-automatic rifles into firing position. Farther out, several of the Angels had heard Natalie’s exclamation and moved closer to provide fire support.

Dravko and Tibor emerged from the shadows.

Emily lowered her weapon. “Honey, call out to us next time before you get your fool head shot off.”

“You would have missed, little girl,” replied Tibor in his East European accent. His grin took the edge off of the insult.

“What took you so long?” asked Robson, the relief evident in his voice.

Dravko sat on the top of the Jersey barrier and swung his legs over. “Whoever planned out the defense of this city knew what they were doing. They almost succeeded in keeping it rotter free.”

“So Portland is infected?” Robson’s shoulders drooped.

“Yes, but it won’t affect us.” Dravko reached under his jacket and pulled out a tourist map of downtown Portland. He stepped over and spread it out across the hood of the Humvee. The downtown area sat on a peninsula bordered to the north by Back Cove and to the south by an inlet. Route 1 ran west of the downtown area, cutting off the peninsula from the rest of the mainland. Dravko pointed to the interchange south of the bridge spanning the inlet. “There’s a huge roadblock set up here and nothing’s getting by. We saw at least thirty or forty cars parked in front of it, probably people trying to avoid the traffic jam on 95. Between the barricades and the vehicles, there’s no way we’re getting through that.”

“Then we’re screwed.”

“Far from it.” Dravko ran his finger along the eastern coast of the peninsula to where a smaller bridge, the Casco Bay Bridge, crossed over onto the mainland. “This is Route 77 into South Portland. There’s a small roadblock on the far end, a pair of police cars blocking the bridge, and a couple of dozen rotters beyond that. The police cars are parked nose-to-nose, so we should be able to shove them aside with the Ryder. Once we’re clear of the bridge, we can cut through the suburbs and pick up the main road a few miles to the south.”

“What about rotter activity in the downtown area?” Natalie asked.

“Minimal. Like I said, whoever mapped out the defenses for this city did a great job. Trucks and Jersey barriers are lined up all along Route 1, so nothing made it in from outside the city. Chain links fences have been erected along the main road downtown, trapping the living dead in the residential and dock areas. There’s a dozen rotters at most in the street between here and the bridge.”

Robson studied the map. It looked easy enough. Less than three miles stood between their current location and the bridge that crossed over into South Portland, with only a handful of rotters in between. It should be easy. However, many times before he had thought that and lost lives in the process.

a photo of me at Wewelsburg

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Rotter-Nation-World-saga-Book-ebook/dp/B00WS3D21G/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1430546669&sr=1-1&keywords=ROTTER+NATION

Print: http://www.amazon.com/Rotter-Nation-World-saga/dp/0996312102/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1430546669&sr=1-1

*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!

Teaser: Anthony Renfro #WinterofZombie



A Zombie Thanksgiving

Dawn stopped at the edge of the parking lot. What she saw in front of her was an apocalyptic nightmare. It was a picture of mass panic frozen in a time of chaos.

The parking lot looked like a war zone–cars burned to metal bodies, cars crashed together, cars turned over, shopping carts everywhere and in all kinds of positions, (food and supplies in these carts long since looted), and bodies, lots and lots of dead bodies. Most of them had been laying out here rotting in the hot sun for far too long, and they were now decayed and gooey, slipping back into the Earth one second at a time.

She closed her eyes, held the gold cross on a chain around her neck, prayed, and then crossed the parking lot.

She stopped when she reached the double doors that led into the grocery store. Sunlight gleamed off what was left of the glass in the frame, shards on the ground twinkled like stars. Two zombies shuffled out of the store, heading in her tasty direction. Dead things. Rotten things. Been walking around for a long time now as a corpse things. A couple of quick pops of her gun and both of them went down hard. Perfect, clean, head shots. Blood splattered ground.

A Zombie Christmas

Mike Beem lowered his rifle, put his right eye on the scope, and closed his left eye. The zombie he was about to shoot was an ugly sucker. From what Mike could tell, this zombie used to be a man around five foot five or six, maybe seven. Hell, he couldn’t tell the exact height from just a tiny scope. Its suit was disheveled, full of dirt and blood (it looked fresh, a recent feast perhaps), and half of his face was gone. This zombie was currently investigating Mike’s Santa Claus and reindeer display. The zombie was studying it like he knew what it was or remembered what it was.

“Don’t pick up Rudolf. Don’t,” Mike replied to himself.

The zombie leaned over and picked up Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer.

That did it.

You see, the biggest problem was this. When you messed with Rudolph, you screwed up the whole display. All the reindeer were attached by string; and that string led into the hands of Santa, who was glued by his butt to the sleigh he was sitting in. When the zombie picked up Rudolph, the rest of the display just went into disarray.

Mike didn’t want to shoot the zombie just yet, because if he fell forward then it would crush the display all together. Mike waited until the zombie was trying to walk away with Rudolph, shambling off, munching on the plastic reindeer, and the display dragging behind him.


Perfect head shot, display still safe.

A Zombie New Year’s Eve

Joe heard noises inside the mud room and turned to face it. The zombies had arrived and were now finding their way in through the open window. It sounded like slabs of beef dropping onto the floor, as they fell into the room one by one. Seconds later, they started to paw at the door that led into the kitchen.

Joe decided he better get on with the exploration of the house, because he wasn’t sure how much time he really had. Something momentarily stopped him, caused him to freeze in mid-movement. He turned towards the sound. It was a rattle of silverware in one of the drawers, like someone was shuffling through them trying to find the right one to use for their meal.

He walked over to this drawer, opened it, and shined the light down. In the gloom of the room, he could see everything was in place, and as it should be. He closed the drawer (soft close), stepped out of the kitchen, and into a hallway.

He paused again when he heard the silverware rattle.

It was a bit louder this time.

“Happy thoughts Joe, happy thoughts,” he replied to himself, as he tried to make his brain think that the rattle was caused by the zombies in the mud room shaking the floors of the house, and not something else. Hard to do in a place this dark and spooky, but he managed to do it as he went back to his exploration.


*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!

Teaser: GG Silverman #WinterofZombie


A teaser of


Vegan Teenage Zombie Huntress

By: G.G. Silverman


I never intended to become a zombie huntress; I had only intended to protest prom, high school’s last bastion of patriarchal society. I felt bad for the girls in my school, who flocked to prom like it was the second coming of Christ, complete with double-rainbows and unicorns. I would save them from all things prom: the spaghetti straps, push-up bras, and fuck-me pumps in candy colors. I’d save them from the horror of hair extensions, the tyranny of tooth whitening, and the stupidity of silk-tip manicures. I’d save them from the neon hideousness of fake-n-bake tans, and from the ultimate indignity, the Brazilian bikini wax. All this ending in the evening’s most absurd moment, the deflowering of virgins by dumb jocks in the back of Daddy’s old Beemer. Dear sweet Gloria Steinem, it’s enough to make me gag.

I’d been protesting prom for weeks, standing next to the prom ticket table with a table of my own. My best friend Cokie, who’s as quiet as she is loyal, sat dutifully beside me as I handed out my carefully-composed, Pulitzer-quality flyers, like “Prom and the Reinforcement of Stereotypical Gender Roles in Our Modern Society,” and not to be outdone, “Prom and Its Effects on the Developing Female Mind: The Dis-ease of Mass Consumerism.” I secretly slipped in some other flyers, like “Meat is Murder” and “Veganism and You: Fighting the Meat-Industrial Complex.” I even included, out of the kindness of my heart, a recipe for my favorite vegan, gluten-free brownies. The best way to reach people is to bombard them while you have their attention, and hope that something, or anything, sticks.

But I wasn’t sure if anyone was listening. I needed to be at prom, with my bullhorn and picket signs, telling my fellow womyn they had one last chance to redeem themselves and embrace feminism before it was too late. Even though there’s nowhere I’d rather be on a Friday night than staying in, reading Simone de Beauvoir by the fireplace, and painting my fingernails black, I knew that being on the scene at prom would be my last chance to save souls. Except prom night did not go as I had imagined.

– – –

Buy VEGAN TEENAGE ZOMBIE HUNTRESS at the following retailers:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1tf6mai

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1ulH5LT

Your local indie bookshop via IndieBound.org: http://bit.ly/1Nh0dtw


*   *   *   *   *

The stench of frozen flesh is in the air! Welcome to the Winter of Zombie Blog Tour 2015, with 40+ of the best zombie authors spreading the disease in the month of November.

Stop by the event page on Facebook so you don’t miss an interview, guest post or teaser…and pick up some great swag as well!

Giveaways galore from most of the authors as well as interaction with them!

#WinterofZombie is the hashtag for Twitter, too!