DEAD: Onset: Book One of the New DEAD series

  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: Reclamation

  DEAD: Blood & Betrayal

  DEAD: End

  DEAD: Snapshot

  DEAD: Snapshot – Portland, Oregon

  DEAD: Snapshot – Leeds, England

  DEAD: Snapshot – Liberty, South Carolina

  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!

  That Ghoul Ava On a Roll

  That Ghoul Ava Sacks a Quarterback

  DEAD: Onset

  Book 1 of the New DEAD series

  ©2016 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.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  My DEAD world gets reset.

  Welcome back. First, a few things should be cleared up. If you are already a fan of my DEAD series, then you know what you are stepping into here…almost. And if you are new, then I hope this series becomes part of your “must read” collection.

  When I wrote the original DEAD series, I had so many “grand” ideas. I was going to give zombie fans a visceral and all-encompassing series that would re-define what fans of this genre could expect. Yeah…well, in the first three books, I learned A LOT. I almost regret the entire Vignettes portion of the series. Oddly enough, that section produced some characters that were fan favorites. “Tight like a Tigah!” belonged on a tee shirt. That is also where I got my collection of hate mail and (yep…true story), death threats.

  There were a lot of people who just could not get into all the one-timer characters in Vignettes. My idea behind that entire section was to give the reader a global look at the world of the undead. Those were the “cartoons” between the Steve and Geek chapters. All they did was muddle things up for a lot of readers.

  You will not find any of my multi-character narrative style here. This is the story of one person in one part of the world. I have no idea how many of these books will eventually make up the entire series. I am not setting a specific number just because I think I hamstrung myself in the original series by saying I would be done at twelve books.

  Because I had an endgame with the DEAD series, I had to stick to my guns. Also, I have edited for other authors in this genre. One writer in particular wrote a solid six-book series. He went on to other things and I continued to edit them. One day, I received book seven of his six-book series. I shot back an email asking what was up. His words were basically, “My new stuff isn’t making the money that Series X was making (sorry, no names), so I am continuing the series.” I thought that was a bit of a slight to the fans.

  What that did do for me was remind me that, while I am doing what I love, this is still my job. This is what I do for a living. That is why I started the DEAD: Snapshot—{insert town here} collection of stand-alone books set in my DEAD world. The regular response was, “But then what happens?” after each of the Snapshots (Portland, Oregon; Leeds, England; & Liberty, South Carolina). And for those of you wondering…yes, the Snapshots will still be written. Up next: Las Vegas, Nevada.

  Writing a series is what I do best. I chose to return to the world that I created with my twelve-book DEAD series. I want to go deep into a single character and the people he encounters. I also want to give you a person that can be anybody. No super prepper or military badass.

  So, here we go. This is still a DEAD book, but I hope that it gives you something different. I also hope that it brings back some of the readers who just could not get through the original series because of the epic number of characters that populated one page and were gone.

  Another thing I want to do is share with you the location of this tale. When I write about places I have little or no actual familiarity with, I use Google Earth to take me down to the street level as well as give me an overview. So, if you are curious about the general area where much of this story takes place, I include the Google Earth page that stayed up on my computer the past few months:

  https://www.google.com/maps/@45.4563507,-122.5649157,264a,20y,270h,44.98t/data=!3m1!1e3

  Naturally I took certain creative liberties, but this should at least allow you to drop into the location of the story and “see” what Evan and the others see. Since this is not far from where I live, I had the advantage of driving over and checking it out on foot.

  I hope that you enjoy this new series. Whether you do or you don’t, I invite (beg is perhaps more accurate) you to leave a review. Those are the lifeblood of us writer types. Especially those of us in the Indie scene. I can’t tell you enough the importance of your reviews.

  And now, let me wrap up with a few thank you notes. To my amazing Beta reading team, YOU make this a better book. Your honesty when I miss the mark is so vital: Debra, Sophie, Todd & Amy, Cassie, Malik, Andrea, Caron, Hope and Terri. Each of you has my deepest thanks. To my wife, Denise, you pushed me to chase my dream. Every single time I think I am not doing it well enough, you smack me on the back of the head and tell me to get back to work. Last but not least, each of you who picks up this book and gives it a shot. It is no lie when I say that I see you as my employer. You pay my salary. You allow me to do what I love. When I meet you in person, I never understand why some of you get so excited. I see me every day and am just not as impressed. So, if we meet, just relax. Let’s enjoy a cup of coffee and talk about zombies, dogs, music…whatever. And feel free to drop me an email. I answer them all myself just like I read EVERY review. And if you have endured this rambling intro, I guess it is time for me to step aside and let you get on to what you are here for…ZOMBIES!

  I just wanna be somebody!

  TW Brown

  October 2016

  The REAL Evan Berry…

  Thanks for “Shaking us all night long!”

  Contents

  The First Few Hours

  Legacy

  The Punch in the Gut

  Martial Law

  No Rest for the Weary

  Day Two Begins

  The Journey to Safety Begins

  Out of the frying pan…

  …and into the fire.

  The Dog

  Discoveries

  The Children

  Noise

  “Hate to say I told you so.”

  Bad Man

  A Time to Kill

  Paul Stokes is Dead

  1

  The First Few Hours
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  “Evan? Are you up?”

  I spat out the mouthful of toothpaste and cupped my hand to my mouth. “Just getting ready to shower, babe,” I called back.

  As I rinsed the sink, I could hear Stephanie, my fiancée, padding around upstairs. I was almost done washing my hair when the curtain opened and Steph popped her face in.

  “You should leave about ten minutes early,” she said and then took a sip from her coffee. She closed her eyes and gave a slight moan of pleasure, taunting me with the fact that I hadn’t had my first cup yet.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked as I patted down my body to make sure I’d rinsed off all the soap and then shut off the water.

  “I guess the police have a section of Powell blocked off. Something about a homeless person or something wandering around in traffic.” She stepped back and handed me my towel.

  As I dried, I could hear the Channel 8 morning news team discussing the road closure. I tuned it out and went about gathering my things for my first day of work. Granted, I was only going in as a substitute, but the principal had made it clear that he believed there was a place for me in the music department. I would finally be a full-time school teacher by next year!

  As I zipped my bag, my eyes drifted to my heavy tool belt. I’d worked the past few years in construction while I finished school to be a music teacher. It was hard work, but I didn’t mind it knowing that it was only temporary. Also, if not for that job, I would’ve never met Stephanie Strasdin.

  I took one last look in the mirror on the back of the door to be sure I was ready. My straight dark hair fell just past the shoulders. I’d been pretty happy when I was told that I didn’t have to cut it. I had on a simple black pullover shirt with the long sleeves pushed up just above the elbows and my favorite pair of black jeans. I’d actually debated on which shoes to wear. I loved my Doc Martens. The toes were a bit scuffed, but Steph had nudged me towards the fairly new docksiders.

  “You want them to take you somewhat seriously,” she had quipped. “That is going to be hard to do if you look like just another student.”

  She had a point. I’d always looked young for my age. Chances are, I would end up being carded well into my thirties which were only three years away.

  As I shut the closet door and prepared to head into the kitchen, I paused to watch the bedroom television that had on the local morning news. The footage was being taken from the Channel 8 helicopter. Sure enough, Powell Boulevard was a parking lot for as far as the eye could see in both directions.

  The picture swung around and zoomed in on a group of police cars with their lights flashing. A tighter zoom brought a few of the officers into focus. It looked like they had their weapons drawn. I had a feeling that scene wasn’t going to end well.

  Grabbing the remote, I shut it off. I didn’t want that kind of negativity bouncing around in my head on the first day. Sub or not, this was my first teaching job. I didn’t want anything to take the shine off this morning.

  “Didn’t you say there was just some mentally ill person wandering around on the highway?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen where I could smell toast and coffee in that perfect marriage of morning fragrances.

  “I thought it was a homeless guy,” Stephanie said as she slid a small plate containing two pieces of toast slathered with butter and honey.

  “Wow…wonder why the cops feel the need to pull their weapons? You’d think they would learn from all the others showing up in the news these past few years.” I took a bite of my toast and shoved that story out of my head for good. Today was my big day and nothing was going to ruin it.

  “I will probably have to stay late at work today,” Stephanie said over her mug of coffee. “So how about you grab some pizza from the take and bake around the corner? We will celebrate your first day and you can tell me all about it when I get home.”

  “That new girl didn’t work out?” I pushed my plate aside. I’d only eaten half a piece of toast, but I was just too excited to eat.

  “She has called in or left early every day for the past week.”

  I got up and moved around the breakfast island to kiss Steph. She leaned up and kissed me on the tip of my chin. It was one of those things that had a story to why she did it. Too bad I couldn’t actually remember it.

  “Chewie!” I called.

  There was a long pause and then I heard the dull thud of my Newfoundland as she slid off our bed. There was a jingle of her tags and the sound of her big feet padding down the long hallway. I knelt down to greet the big, black dog as it plodded into the room.

  “You be a good girl for me, okay?” I grabbed her by her jowls and kissed her cold, wet nose. I looked up at Steph who was holding my denim knapsack out, waiting for me to take it as I headed out the door.

  “She’ll be fine. All she does is curl up under my desk and snore.” Steph gave the dog a pat on the side as I stood and took my bag.

  I opened the door and stepped out into the misty morning. A solid blanket of high clouds was providing a steady mist. That was one thing about spring in Portland, Oregon…it was not much different from fall or winter. I reached in my pants pocket and grabbed my keys as I tried not to leap down the stairs and sprint to my car. A fresh surge of excitement churned in my stomach making me glad that I hadn’t eaten much or downed a full cup of coffee.

  I reached my door and paused. My nose wrinkled and I habitually checked my shoes to ensure I hadn’t stepped in a Chewie landmine. They were clean. I sniffed again for some stupid reason and almost gagged.

  “Smells like something died,” I choked out.

  “Probably Mr. Bickford’s cat,” Steph held a hand over the lower part of her face to try and block the smell that was almost so thick that it seemed as if I could taste it in the back of my throat. “That silly animal keeps killing squirrels and then leaving them on the porch. I think it has a crush on Chewie.”

  “It’ll be anarchy…dogs and cats living together,” I said in a poor Bill Murray from Ghostbusters impersonation.

  “You are such a dork,” Steph teased.

  “You’re marrying this dork,” I called back as I slid into my beat up old pickup truck.

  I turned over the engine and bumped the lever to get the windshield wipers to do a quick sweep across so that I could see. I backed out and heaved the wheel around to aim me towards the exit of our quiet little cul-de-sac. As I dropped into drive, I glanced over one more time at Steph who was standing on the porch with Chewie at her side. She brushed a lock of her dark hair from her eyes and raised that hand in a wave goodbye. I waved back and headed to the first day of what I was sure was going to be the most memorable day in my life.

  Today…I was going to be the music teacher at Franklin High School. As I pulled out and headed over to Foster Road, I switched on my radio.

  “…unconfirmed reports of the entire town being quarantined—”

  I gave my CD a nudge and smiled as it slid into the player. Seconds later, the opening chords to AC/DC’s Highway to Hell blared in my cab. The news had been pretty dismal as of late. There was some new flu or sickness or something that had everybody in a tizzy. Personally, I could care less. I never understood why folks got so bent out of shape over a sickness that killed a handful of people when there were literally billions in this world. The news always made it seem worse than it really was and did a hell of a job scaring the gullible general public.

  I sang along with Bon Scott all the way to work. As soon as the big brick building came into view, I had to fight the urge not to stomp on the gas. When I pulled into my parking space, I had to just sit for a moment as the excitement swirled around inside me. I watched groups of kids as they trudged to the main entrance of the high school before I finally got out of my truck. That is when I saw another teacher giving me a questioning look.

  “Can I help you?” the older woman said.

  She was probably in her fifties and had hair that had turned a very unflattering shade of gray. The wrinkles around her
eyes, the crevices in her cheeks, and the lines at the corners of her mouth gave her away as a smoker before I got close enough to pick up on the telltale stink. She was maybe a shade over five feet and far more than a shade over two hundred pounds. Her eyes were dark and piggy and the frown she wore so naturally had me thinking of every teacher that I’d despised when I was in school. I could just imagine the life being sucked out of a room whenever she entered it.

  “Name’s Evan Berry. I’m the music teacher?” I hated that my voice quavered just enough to make that seem like a question.

  “Mr. Poole is the music teacher here,” the woman said with a snort.

  “Yeah…I’m his sub.”

  “Oh…well then, you aren’t really the music teacher, are you.” There was no quaver in her voice, so her words came across as a statement and not a question.

  I opened my mouth to say something that I would probably regret later when the sounds of a police car’s siren erupted on Powell Boulevard just a few yards away causing me to jump. I looked over to see the squad car speeding away with lights and siren in full effect.

  “Not from around here, are you?” the woman sniffed as she waddled past me and headed toward a side entrance to the school.

  I felt a bit of my earlier exuberance trickle away and quickly made the decision that I would not let some sour old lady ruin this day. If everything that I’d been told in my final interview was true, then this would be the end of my days in construction.

  “I’m the music teacher, dammit,” I whispered as I took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  This may be my first day, but I was familiar enough with Franklin High School to notice that there was something a bit off. There should be more kids walking the halls, hurrying to class, or just hanging out by their lockers. As I made my way to the teacher’s lounge, I began to notice something else on the faces: fear.