DEAD: Snapshot (Book 2): Leeds, England

  Other Titles by TW Brown

  The DEAD Series:

  DEAD: The Ugly Beginning

  DEAD: Revelations

  DEAD: Fortunes & Failures

  DEAD: Winter

  DEAD: Siege & Survival

  DEAD: Confrontation

  DEAD: Reborn

  DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn

  DEAD: Spring

  DEAD: The Reclamation

  DEAD: End

  DEAD Special Edition

  DEAD: Perspectives Story (Vols. 1 - 4)

  DEAD: Vignettes (Vols. 1 - 4)

  DEAD: The Geeks (Vols. 1 - 4)

  Zomblog

  Zomblog

  Zomblog II

  Zomblog: The Final Entry

  Zomblog: Snoe

  Zomblog: Snoe’s War

  Zomblog: Snoe’s Journey

  That Ghoul Ava

  That Ghoul Ava: Her First Adventures

  That Ghoul Ava & The Queen of the Zombies

  That Ghoul Ava Kick Some Faerie A**

  Next, on a very special That Ghoul Ava

  That Ghoul Ava on the Lam

  DEAD: Snapshot – Leeds, England

  ©2015 May December Publications LLC

  The split-tree logo is a registered trademark of May December Publications LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or May December Publications LLC.

  A moment with the author…

  Welcome to the second of my DEAD: Snapshot—{insert town here} books. Of course, for those of you who just saw the cover and/or the title and thought it would be a neat way to pass your time and missed out on DEAD: Snapshot—Portland, Oregon, you will be fine. Each of these books are meant to be a stand-alone title. These books are set in the world that I created with my twelve book series titled DEAD. Book one is DEAD: The Ugly Beginning in case you have absolutely no clue who I am or what I am talking about.

  So, the purpose behind the DEAD: Snapshot collection is to bring the zombie apocalypse to YOUR home. If you are a zombie fan, you have likely read plenty of the pop fiction out there. The thing is, I imagine you have wondered what would happen in your own neck of the woods should the zombie thing ever actually happen. I am lucky, since I write the DEAD (and Zomblog) series, I was able to use the Pacific Northwest as the setting for some of my work.

  So, how do you bring the zombies to your front door? Simple. Just shoot me an email at [email protected] with “I WANT THE DEAD TO TAKE MY TOWN” in the subject. Tell me about your town and why it makes for an interesting setting. I can’t promise, but if your town jumps out at me…it will experience the zombie apocalypse via my written word. If you can get a public figure interested…very cool. I will send the entire city council and the mayor or whatever you have their very own copy if they want to have a DEAD day or whatever. Remember, I pride myself on being accessible. I will Skype, Google Hangout, or whatever. That is part of being an Indi Author. Unlike some of the big names, we can actually interact directly with our fan base, and we will do just about anything to get our books into people’s hands.

  Here is the fun part for me (and I recommend you perhaps give this a try while you read), I go to Google Earth when I write these stories. I zoom all the way to street level for some parts just to get a better line of sight and see what the characters are seeing. Of course, my brain has to add in the mayhem and destruction…as well as all the zombies.

  As you read this book (and future editions of the DEAD: Snapshot {insert town here} series), I invite you to bring up Google Earth and locate some of these places. Get a feel for where I am taking you. Also, that may inspire you to check out your own location via Google Earth and see what I would see; you might even want to direct me to something specific in the event I pick your home to be the setting for an upcoming book.

  For those of you who have never taken the ride that is my DEAD series, I do invite you to give it a shot. I can admit that I learned a great deal while writing those first three offerings (DEAD: The Ugly Beginning, DEAD: Revelations, and DEAD: Fortunes & Failures). I think my biggest improvements came in the “Vignettes” section. That was a case of a writer knowing what he meant to do, but not really having it succeed in the eyes of the readers. My idea was to offer these “snapshots” of the apocalypse all around the world. Sort of a palate cleanser in between the “Steve” story and the “Geek” story. What I ended up doing was putting in too many characters for people to really follow since most of the vignettes were one-timers or two at best. Of course, that being said, I have one story from the Vignettes that lasted through all twelve books.

  You won’t find any of that here. In the Snapshot series, you get a main story in a central location. Sure, you may have a few characters to follow, but the story stays focused. I hope that you enjoy these tales, and I look forward to “travelling” to various places as I bring my vision of the zombie apocalypse to the rest of the world.

  And now for a few words of thanks: this book would not be what it is without my Beta Readers. This crew helped me make it better by catching my many errors. Even better, I had a couple that were from the region where this book takes place. You might think that, since we all speak English, we are pretty much the same. Nope. And I owe a ton of thanks and gratitude to my friends across the pond that helped me with slang and even corrected me on what you might find in a pantry over in Merry Old England. So, to Vix Kirkpatrick, Melena Duff, Caron Hirst, Kary Lawrence, Niamh Clancy, Heather Burns, Dawn Spengler, Jeff Shoemaker, and Nelson Wilbanks, my most heartfelt thanks. Seriously, you made this a better book and there is always a space on my grill for an extra steak if you are in the area. To the men and women who keep us safe in the Armed Forces as well as our local police, fire, and medical personnel, not only do you have my thanks, but I am sure almost everybody else that you serve each and every day. To my wife, thank you for everything you do every single day to support me as a writer…even when I am ready to throw in the towel. My last thanks is for you. Without you buying this book, this world does not exist. By you reading this book, you give the characters in it their life and soul. You also allow me to do what I love for a living. If somebody would have told me that I would be an actual author for a living…I would have told them to quit blowing sunshine up my nethers. Yet…here I am. So thank you. You made a person’s dreams come true just by reading this book. How often do you hear that?

  For King and the law!

  TW Brown

  September 2015

  For Simon

  Contents

  The Dead Walk

  Human Filth

  Join or Die

  Terrible Things

  A New Leaf

  Running

  Choosing

  Through Jaded Eyes

  Verdicts

  Settling In

  Staring Over The Edge

  Meeting

  Point of No Return

  Bait

  Face Off

  Sound Travels

  Closure

  Epilogue

  UNCIVIL WAR

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  1

  The Dead Walk!

  Shadiyah Kasim looked from the window of her flat on the ninth f
loor of the Clyde Court Towers. Everywhere she looked, it was the same nightmare. Fires still burned and there would be no services to put them out. Groups of the undead could be seen stumbling around the streets. On occasion, she could see a living person on the move.

  It was always easy to tell the difference. The dead moved along with little to no deviation from their course until whatever it was that caught their attention would send them off on a new tangent. The living moved in fits and starts.

  And the living ran.

  Thank God that the dead did not run. While she was not terribly out of shape and had tried her best to hit the treadmill at the gym at least a couple of times a week, the dead did not tire, and if they had the ability to run, humanity would have fallen in the first week.

  Not that the human race had fared all that well, Shadiyah thought.

  “Anything, Shaddi?” a voice called in a hushed whisper causing her to pull away from the window.

  Shadiyah’s sister Assi, sat on the floor clutching her doll to her chest. A few months ago, that would have looked ridiculous. Assi had the thick, black hair of their Lebanese mother. It hung down to the middle of her back and usually had an amazing luster and shine. Now, it looked dull, flat, and tangled. Her large eyes were rimmed in red from the endless crying. She looked like she would not likely share in the ample breasts that their mother had passed on to Shadiyah. Assi was slender and had the perfect figure of a tomboy. Right now though, Assi was acting in an uncharacteristically girlish manner as she clutched that worn out ragdoll to her chest.

  Assi was fifteen and past the age of dolls. However, Shadiyah could forgive the girl considering all that had happened. On reflex, her eyes flicked to the dark stain that was dried and now a part of the living room wall like some hideous sort of New Age artwork.

  Her father had brought the sickness into their home. Of course, when it had happened, nobody had any idea what would occur within those next horrific hours. She shoved the memories from her head and returned to the situation at hand.

  They needed food. As of yet, the water had not been shut off, but she knew that was just a matter of time. Already, when she looked up at night, she saw large sections of the city appearing as black stains on the landscape. It was like watching the tide roll in and knowing that her sandcastle was going to be washed away no matter how hard she might try to prevent it.

  “Assi,” Shadiyah knelt in front of her sister, “I need to go out and get—”

  “NO!” the girl shrieked, causing Shadiyah’s eyes to flick to the front door. Not more than twenty minutes ago, something had been scratching at it from the other side.

  “Shh!” She covered her little sister’s mouth with a hand. “You need to stay silent, and you need to understand that we have to stock up on as much water as possible while we wait for somebody to come rescue us.”

  Assi looked up with tears brimming over the cusps of her eyes. She clutched the doll even tighter to her chest and snot bubbled from her nose, causing Shadiyah to flinch. As soon as she did, she could not fight back the bitter laugh that burst forth.

  Here she was, unsettled by a little snot after everything that had happened in the past few days. She glanced at her hands; the blood that had dried under her nails and left them stained black was only a small piece of the whole puzzle.

  “Can you keep quiet?” Shadiyah asked as she rose to her feet. Her sister nodded. “I will be as fast as I can, but we need to get as much bottled water as possible. While I am gone, I need you to fill the filtered pitchers. Can you do that?” Again, Assi nodded. “And don’t open the door, no matter what you hear out there. I have the key and will let myself in. If I knock and tell you to let me in…” She let that statement hang as an invitation for her sister to respond and confirm that she understood.

  “Then that means somebody bad has you and is forcing you to bring them here,” Assi said with a sniff.

  There were more than a few unsavory types living in the towers. Shadiyah had added this last precaution after hearing something terrible happen down the hall a couple of days ago. From the sounds of it, she thought that it might be that nice family from India that had recently moved in. Whoever it was, the screaming, begging, and crying had gone on for hours.

  She had scoured the house for anything that could be used as a weapon and happened upon something under her father’s bed that she’d never seen before. It was a black leather case, but inside was a magnificent curved sword. Its handle looked to be of carved ivory and had a lion’s head at the end of the hilt.

  There was also a letter with a fancy gold seal that spoke of her father as being some sort of hero in the Lebanese Army. She hadn’t even known that he had served.

  She had pulled out the weapon, half expecting it to be nothing more than a decorative piece, but when she cut her finger on the blade, she discovered otherwise. Besides being tremendously sharp, the weapon was also surprisingly sturdy.

  Shadiyah slung the leather belt over her shoulder and picked up her sister’s school backpack. When she stood, she saw her reflection in the mirror that was mounted on the wall by the arch next to the front room door. She paused to take in what she saw.

  Before all this insanity involving the dead returning as zombies that hungered for the living, she had worked in an opticians shop. Every day, she had put on her makeup, dressed nice, and then hopped on the bus. Her wavy hair had always been kept long, and despite how much her mother complained that such personal vanity was inappropriate, Shadiyah went the extra effort to straighten her thick black locks.

  Now, her hair was a nest of unruly curls that had not seen a brush for over a week. She had not even thought about such frivolous things as makeup since the day her father had risen and killed their mother in this little apartment. Yet, and she could not help herself, her big dark eyes and feminine curves still shown through, hinting at the beauty hidden under the dirt and grime. Shadiyah knew from an early age that she was pretty. Not just because her parents said so; that was a parent’s duty. No, she began noticing how the boys looked at her, how even some men would turn as she passed.

  She had dreamed of becoming a model. However, when she had stopped at a small agency one day on a whim, she had seen those dreams crushed. Yes, she was easily as pretty as any of the girls sitting or standing in the lobby. However, at barely five feet tall, she was lacking in height.

  “Perhaps you might consider acting,” one of her friends had whispered that day.

  Shadiyah shook herself free of those memories. She needed to be focused on the here and the now. Letting her mind wander would be an invitation to becoming one of those things. The news had made it very clear in the end: a bite or scratch from one of the undead would result in the wounded individual becoming another member of the growing horde within seventy-two hours.

  Stopping at the front door, she glanced back at her sister again. Assi had actually moved to the couch. She still had that ridiculous doll clutched to her chest, but at least she’d gotten up from the floor.

  Being as careful and as quiet as possible, Shadiyah turned the deadbolt and then opened the door a crack. If the smell inside the flat was bad, it was sickeningly overwhelming in the corridor. Opening the door a bit further, she could not help but pause to glance down at the bodies of her parents.

  Squeezing out, she pulled the door shut behind her, used the key to lock the deadbolt, and then took in her surroundings. The long corridor looked like something from a bad horror film. There were bodies (or parts of bodies in many cases) strewn on the floor. Glancing down, she saw the corpses of her parents. Her father still only had the one bite on his arm; the bandage still clinging in places and stained black from the dried blood. The only other injury was where the ice pick still jutted from his temple. The last reports on BBC News had made it clear that only a traumatic strike to the brain could stop these abominations.

  Three of the undead had met their end a few doors down, each of them having been beat to the point where their skulls
had busted open and their brains splattered in wide arcs. Unfortunately, it looked as if the victor had also become part of the spoils. A man was seated against the wall, a cricket bat at his side. He had slit his wrists.

  Unfortunately, that had not prevented the infection from the nasty rip on his right arm from taking hold. The man’s head lolled a bit as it turned her direction. Then, in bird-like fits, it slowly locked on to her and the man began to rise awkwardly to his feet. His eyes were filmed over, and in the poor lights from above, they almost looked as gray as his skin, minus the blue hints around the edges, The black tracers that riddled his eyes looked even darker, adding to the sinister menace this zombie presented as it stood, still clutching the bat in one hand.

  Shadiyah had not seen or heard any reports about the zombies using weapons; yet, here one was, slowly staggering her direction with the bat in its hand. She gripped and re-gripped her father’s scimitar as the zombie made its slow progress towards her. When it was about ten feet away, it brought up its arms, reaching for her. In the process, the bat fell from its grip and clattered to the floor.

  Shadiyah smiled and stepped in to attack. Her swing came in and connected just below the man’s temple. There was a jolt of pain as the vibrations down the blade reached the hilt. Instinctively, she let go of the weapon. The zombie collapsed to the floor and ceased to move.

  Shadiyah took a tentative step forward and toed the corpse on the shoulder. When nothing happened, she moved in and worked her weapon free. She wiped the blade on the man’s pants and was reaching for the cricket bat when the door to her left opened. Leaping back, she brought up her blade and prepared to swing again. Already, her mind was telling her to be prepared for the shock of impact. She could not be dropping her weapon every time she hit one of those monsters. However, it was no monster that now stood in the doorway.