Zombies From Space...and Vampires

Zombies From Space…and Vampires

  Angela B. Chrysler

  * * * * *

  Published by Angela B. Chrysler

  Copyright © 2016 by Angela B. Chrysler

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design by Deranged Doctor Designs

  * * * * *

  Dedication

  For my fellow nerds.

  Game on.

  * * *

  Acknowledgements

  Here it is again: another acknowledgements page that no one enjoys reading except those who are mentioned in the acknowledgements. Instead, I will take this moment to explain a bit about the characters in Zombies From Space.

  This is a work of fiction (Unfortunately). Businesses and places are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Events and incidents are formed in the deranged brain of the author who is still sitting around emerged in an arsenal disguised as a peaceful garden waiting for the zombie apocalypse to occur alongside an alien invasion. The vampires I threw in for fun because… how else do you make a bad story worse?

  Names and characters in this book are real people who live vicariously through this story. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, was completely and totally intentional… and with the exclusive permission of the characters mentioned. All characteristics of said peoples were also based on their own design.

  Stanislava D. Kohut named herself Stanushka and asked for pink bubblegum and pink pigtails while she handles her giant bazooka alongside her weapon fetishes. I said, “Okay!”

  Adam Dreece said, “I want a vest with pockets! Many pockets! And filled with all sorts of trinkets and things! And remember my monocle!” I said, “Okay!”

  Matthew William Harrill said, “I want to be naked wearing only a garlic infused loin cloth and boots!” I said, “O—okaaaay…?” and added the Doctor Who scarf in ode to Tom Baker and Matt’s English heritage. It only felt appropriate to have Matt steal my collector’s edition scarf and wrap himself up in it as clothing.

  His response when reading that? “I would so DO that!” Yes, Matt… yes, you would. And I would so hunt you down for it.

  Additional characters who deserve mention and recognition are:

  C.L. Schneider (Cin Dixon)

  Stan Sudan (The Professor)

  Kylie “Kraken” Jude

  Chess DeSalls (Chess “Cutlass” DeSalls)

  Jay Norry

  J.S. Swiger

  M.L.S. Weech who asked to be one of the zombies. So I gave him honors and made him all of them.

  And our beloved ship, the HMS Slush Brain! Which is a real discussion group on Twitter we fondly deemed the HMS Slush Brain. No you can’t join. It’s a private group for our collective. We hold secret meetings and make plans to take over the world. But due to the slush brain we all possess, I doubt any of us will actually succeed at this. For the record, Matt is our “Pinky.” The rest of us are the Brain.

  Are additional characters in this story all based on real life friends who I portray best to their character and requests (I hope).

  * * *

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Free Bookmark

  About the Author

  More Books

  * * * * *

  Zombies From Space…and Vampires

  Sink into my books with me. I will show you what I see.

  * * * * *

  Introduction

  Welcome to Zombies From Space...and Vampires!

  This is a blog novel, which means it’s a work in progress.

  “Why are you publishing it on Amazon if it isn’t done?”

  Because people are asking and when I said it isn’t done they said, “I don’t care! I want what you have on my Kindle.” Honestly, I'm astounded at the reception of Zombies from Space…and Vampires. I hadn't expected it to do as well as it has. That being said, I will be updating and publishing each chapter as it comes in so, while you may be spending .99 cents on this incomplete ebook now, you will forever have the option to update the manuscript…and, long after it is complete and I adjust the price to $2.99, you will have bought it for .99 cents. You can also read for the same manuscript for free on my website where you can download the PDF. I tried to set the price for free, but Amazon wouldn’t let me.

  Why am I telling you all this? Well…because I want to be completely honest with you and let you know what you’re getting into. This is an incomplete ebook. At this time, the story abruptly ends at Chapter 10. This isn’t a cliff hanger. I’m still writing Chapter 11. I am planning for 18 chapters total. This may be increased to 22. It depends how much I can cram into 18 chapters without rushing things.

  So here it is, a brief history…an explanation as to how I came up with Zombies From Space…and Vampires.

  History

  I conceived this idea shortly after watching Kung Fu Panda 3. The preview in the beginning showed two guys standing there... "zombies... In space!" After scribbling "zombies from space" on a popcorn napkin, I sat on my idea for the next two hours while I tried not to explode with enthusiasm (The movie was great, by the way).

  By the time I got home, I had a plot, but I had a challenge presented to me.

  My husband is a scientist. More specifically, he is a physicist and holds a Masters in organic chemistry. You know that stuff Sheldon Cooper does? That’s my husband. My husband is also a heavy sci-fi reader where one rule is gold: "Scientific accuracy." He doesn't watch The Walking Dead, so every Monday night I fill him in on the next episode. His reason for not watching TWD?

  "There are too many plot holes based on one ludicrous concept: Zombies are illogical!" he argues.

  "Who cares!" I argue back. "They're zombies! They are no more logical than Bruce Campbell and his army of Dead."

  "Yeah, but... It's Bruce!"

  This is where I sigh and call him a zombie-est.

  "Bruce is so damn hokey that he's awesome!" my husband says.

  "So you're saying that Walking Dead's zombies are wonderfully real?"

  "No! They're hokey! But they think they're realistic!"

  "So they take themselves too seriously?" I ask.

  "Yes!" The vein on his neck is pulsing. "Which is why Zombies From Space is awesome!"

  I set aside my fuzzy feeling and keep arguing.

  "I don't watch TWD for the zombies," I say. "They're frickin' cool. But they are not why I watch the show. I watch the show because of the characters."

  "Yeah, but they drag it out," he says. "They're going to come to the same realization as everyone else…the same blatant answer, but they’re taking six seasons to get there!"

  "Which is what?"

  "You do what you have to do to survive."

  "Of course that's the answer!" I say. "But it isn't the point. Of course they are going to do what they have to do to survive. We watched this develop in Carol. We saw it lost in Morgan. And that's really what he's afraid of! Morgan is convinced that if he kills again, he'll go back to do whatever he must to survive. Something his therapist failed to cover with him. We see this strong in Rick. Survive. Of course! Crossing the lines of humanity? Most definitely! But at what cost? And that's the question. Survival has a price and while humanity has fallen apart around them, Rick and his group desperately ha
ng onto theirs. While it’s taken us six years to get this far, it’s really only about two years in their time."

  "But that's just it!" my scientist shouts. "The human body falls apart after a few weeks."

  "But it isn't about the zombies," I shriek. "They're just cool. The point isn’t survival. The point is humanity during apocalypse. This is like watching Apocalypse Now in slow motion. But at what point will their need to survive and end their humanity? At what point will it break them? At one point will they too join the cannibals, rapists, and wolves? Can they embrace survival and keep their humanity?"

  I get a pensive grunt. He thinks for a moment and goes back to his science fiction novel.

  So here we are: Zombies From Space... and Vampires. I had to come up with a credible explanation, one that my husband, an avid Science Fiction enthusiast, would accept…one that would stand against scientific accuracy.

  What if the zombies are an alien race who just happen to resemble zombies? What if their food source is humanoids? What if they come from a planet with a much lower gravitational pull and they’re cell division rate is exceptionally faster than ours? So that they are constantly shedding their bodies every few days, but when placed on Earth where the gravitational pull is much higher, their flesh and skin is ripped off of them like rags giving them the appearance and movement of zombies.

  It was sound. My scientist approved the science. It was credible enough that he could accept the claim of zombies.

  So I have my "zombies." I have my apocalypse. But then I had an idea. How could I make this even more epicly awesome? Vampires! And that is when I realized the zombies would threaten the vampire food source. Zombies vs. vampires. That was the original title. But I couldn't let go of "Zombieeeees... from SPACE!" Aliens. Zombies. Vampires. What more could you ask for?"

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  Drip the drops of golden light in the black of night.

  Nineteen-year-old Aria Danes peered up from the line scrawled into her notebook. The rain rolled down the window of the mobile home. The orange of the street lamp reflected through the droplets that streaked the glass. Aria sighed and gazed at the clock. Two o’clock. Her father would be done with his shift soon.

  The diner was always dead this time of night.

  “Cost more to keep the lights on and the staff there than it ever was worth,” her father frequently grumbled. “My father boasted a 24-hour diner for forty-eight years as my father before him. Ain’t gonna change that now.”

  Too well her father quoted the words of his employer back. Aria would chuckle and her father would slip the baseball cap on his balding gray head and, giving Aria a hug, would head off across the parking lot to work.

  Aria loved the mobile home. It was cozy, ideal, and practical. With just her and her father and a constant set of wheels under their feet, they were always ready to go... if ever they could save enough to get gone. Her father, Richard Danes, was a down to earth hard working average man of forty something. He had spent the last ten years trading in strands of hair in exchange for the wisdom it took to raise his small family, which was always only Aria. Their mother had taken off years ago, and died all before Aria had learned how to miss her.

  She wasn’t missed as Mr. Danes always was there being whatever it was Aria needed that day. Their existence was simple, and, at nineteen years, all Aria wanted to do was get gone from the small one-light town and move on to bigger places.

  “Go to college,” Mr. Danes would nag with a smile on his face. “Be something better than me.”

  Matching his grin, Aria always retorted, “I am something better.”

  Before he could argue, Aria would go back to her dreams set to the songs on her iPod.

  Aria sat up from the window at the sudden tap on the glass. Through the black and orange streaks of rain, her father smiled up at her. Aria lifted open the window.

  “I’ll be along later than I thought,” Mr. Danes said. “The boss wants to go over staffing tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Aria whined.

  “He says it will be nice and quiet then. Best time.”

  Dejected, Aria nodded.

  “What are you still doing up, anyway?” Mr. Danes asked.

  Aria shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Well...” Mr. Danes looked back at the diner to hide his smile. “Too much like your father.”

  Aria leaned down out of the window and kissed the top of his head.

  “Right,” she said. “Night, Dad.”

  The rain was picking up again.

  “You’re not going to sleep, are you?” Mr. Danes asked.

  “Nope.” Aria flashed him her favorite grin. “Too much like my father.”

  “Stubborn,” he said, turning back to the diner. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

  The rain had most definitely started up again. A down pour was well on its way.

  “Bye, Dad,” she said.

  Mr. Danes waved good bye and, crouched under his coat, ran through the muddy parking lot back to the diner.

  Aria fought the mobile home window, which had jammed again. The thing was always sticking. The wind picked up and, just as Aria gave the window a punch to dislodge the misaligned frame, a sharp whistle cut through the night, and the rain suddenly stopped.

  Richard Danes had just made it to the end of the parking lot where the diner’s cheap florescent lights flickered. He looked back at the mobile home. The window forgotten, Aria leaned out of the window and cocked her head to better see the sky. It was too black as if something had sucked out the light of the moon and the stars. Not even the outline of storm clouds was visible in the dark.

  “Dad?” she called.

  Dumbfounded, Richard looked around as if trying to determine where it was the rain had gone. He held a hand to his face, angling the street lamp light from his eyes to improve visibility.

  “Dad?” Aria called. “What’s happe-?”

  A second sharp whistle silenced Aria. Clasping her ears, she fell back, cringing against the sound as she lay huddled on the floor of the mobile home beside the foldout dining room.

  Just as quickly, the shrill whistle stopped and the down pour continued.

  Aria pulled herself to her feet and peered out the window. The rain fell as if nothing had been there moments ago, to disrupt the downpour. Everything had continued as it had before. Her father was gone.

  “Dad?” Aria called over the rains. She gazed at the diner. The lights had gone out. It was silent. Everything was just too wrong. Worry pulled her nerves and Aria hugged herself against the gnawing fear that dug at her gut.

  “Dad?”

  Her pace increased with her rising panic as she made her way through the mobile eatery to the driver’s cabin. Pushing open the door, Aria studied the parking lot for any sign of life.

  Shadows moved in the distance. Aria strained to see through the rain and night at the movement on ahead. A kind of distant gurgling followed and, all before Aria could scream, a kind of thing, ragged and limp slogged through the mud. Its arms hung at its side like rags.

  The stench hit her nose and, as she opened her mouth to scream, a cold hand clamped down around her, holding her mouth closed.

  “Not a word,” a man’s voice muttered in her ear. “Not a sound.”

  His cold slender fingers caressed her cheek as she breathed deep the stale scent of death.

  “You don’t know what that is. Do you?”

  Aria nodded. A strand of hair fell to her face.

  “You do?” The man sounded surprised.

  “You know then what it will do if it gets you?”

  The walking limp thing slogged toward Aria who fought the hand that held her in place. The man holding her ran a cold cheek against hers and breathed deep as if smelling Aria.

  “Nothing quite wets the appetite like frightened female,” he said.

  A sudden grunt from the left forced the man holding Aria to shift, coming to face a second man-shaped thing
slogging through the mud. Its arms hung like shredded rags. Its stench bit Aria’s nose. Up close in the street lamp’s light, Aria could see the shredded remains of rotting corpse. She screamed into the hand that held her mouth as the dead thing reached for Aria. Releasing a silk laugh, the man stepped again, taking Aria with him just as the walking corpse lunged. With a swipe of his arm, a blade flew up, taking the corpse’s hand with it.  The man holding Aria shifted, and she broke free.

  Stumbling, she ran away from the man and the slogging corpse and stopped at the wall of moving shadows that limped toward her. Still alive, the armless corpse hissed at the man with the sword. Too frightened to move, she watched as the man swept his sword across the dead, taking his head with it.

  “Now then,” he said, straightening his vest as a snarling body behind Aria fell on her. Before Aria could gasp, the man was beside her. His blade, forced through the dead. This close, Aria could see perfect pale skin of the man with thick black hair sleeked back. Eyes as black as death peered down at her. Eyes that Aria fell too deeply into pinned her in place. And just as quickly as the man had moved beside her, he was down on Aria, his lips on her neck.

  A twinge of pain, her body weakened, and she fell into the man’s cold arms as everything around her went black.

  Aria woke in a dark room lavished in mahogany and blood red velvet. Despite the ache that strained each joint, Aria shoved back a heavy silk blanket that matched the red and sat up from the bed lined with four intricately carved bed posts. Based on the pain from her shoulder, a collection of bruises accompanied the strain in her joints.

  Outside a door, an orange light spilled under the door and across the carpet. Distant voices in the joining room challenged the silence. Aria pushed herself from the bed. While she slept, someone had dressed her in a white night gown that fell to her bare feet when she stood. Despite the lack of chains or bars, she was sure she wasn’t free. Aria crept toward the door.

  “What news?”

  Aria almost opened her mouth to answer when a second voice, smooth like the first cut her off.

  “They’ve positioned themselves globally…strategically from the looks of things.” The second voice maintained a hint of worry he kept in check. Quietly, Aria moved closer, desperate to hear every word, though they made no attempt to talk privately.