Month: April 2024
Old Magic – The Interview
Ben Logan sat behind his desk.
He studied the file in his hand.
It was a sunny afternoon.
Outside the office window, a distant mountain scene unfolded.
The peaks rose majestically.
The rugged slopes were cloaked in shades of green and brown.
They were adorned with patches of vibrant wildflowers, he knew dotted the landscape.
In the foreground, a winding river snaked its way through the valley.
It glinted like a ribbon of silver in the afternoon light. Trees clustered along its banks.
He could imagine the leaves rustled gently in the breeze.
Above, fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky.
They cast shadows that danced across the mountainside.
A bird soared gracefully overhead.
Its wings outstretched as it rode the thermals rising from the valley below.
Papers and folders were scattered across the desk.
He glanced up.
The door swung open.
A young woman entered.
She had a determined look in her eyes.
Zac Smith,.
Ben had decided to interview her himself.
He had heard good things about her from the academy instructors.
He wanted to see for himself if she had what it took to join his team.
“Come on in,” he said.
He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“Have a seat.”
Zac nodded.
She crossed the room and settled into the chair.
She had on a khaki uniform shirt, minus the patches, faded blue jeans that highlighted hips and thighs and long lean lines carved by hours of athletic endeavors.
She crossed her legs like she was showing off her tan combat boots, as well worn as the jeans.
Not the typical interview suit, he thought. But it said something about her.
Cocky, on the verge of being over confident.
Eyes that sparkled above a half smirk smile.
Ben leaned forward. He looked into her eyes.
“Why do you want to be a deputy?”
She straightened in her seat.
Her expression was serious.
“I’ve always wanted to make a difference in my community,” she said. “Being a deputy is a way for me to serve and protect the people I care about.”
Ben snorted.
“There are better places to serve than…” he let it go and waved a hand toward the window.
The Main Street of town was lined with old brick buildings that looked worn and forgotten.
Stone fortresses from a time when immigrants were making incursions into sacred territory and the Border of the Reservation was being established.
Main Street was it, except for a few smaller buildings on side streets.
And beyond that a Magical Reservation created by the Federal Government to contain native people.
It wasn’t a fun job.
There wasn’t much to smile about most of the time.
“Do you think you have what it takes?”
She met his gaze and held it.
“I’ve been trained to handle high-pressure situations, and I’m confident in my ability to do the job.”
“You ever fought a magic man before?
She shook her head.
“Not much magic on the East Coast anymore.”
He nodded.
Not much magic anyone could see, but it was there.
Probably better found in the halls of power and where money was being made.
But Zac was right.
Her exposure to it would have been limited, if at all.
“Everyone out here has some level of it,” he told her.
“In town?”
It was his turn to shake his head.
“On the Rez,” he corrected. “The Chairman of the Confederated Nations is one of the most powerful men you’ll ever meet, and there are a few others that could top him.”
“I’m going to meet him,” she smirked. “Does that mean I’ve got the job?”
“It’s not an easy gig,” he said. “Take all the problems you find in a big city, compress it into tiny trailer parks, mix in magic and spread it out over a million acres.”
She leaned across the table and whispered.
“What about vampires? And werewolves? And ghosts and ghouls?”
He couldn’t tell if she was kidding.
“That too,” he said. “And more.”
“Really?”
“The potential for it. We haven’t seen it yet, but like I said, problems. We got teens bored out of their skulls with more power than an Army and no hope for a future. They experiment.”
She gulped.
Eyes still sparkled with mischief though.
Like she had an answer for any out of control teen, vampire or werewolf.
“The pay is lousy,” he said. “Hours suck.”
“Don’t over sell it,” Zac answered.
“I’ve got one deputy now and Lucy runs the whole show. You’d be new, so you get the new car. Except it’s a used new car, so it’s only new to you.”
“Any down sides so far?”
Ben stared at her.
“A lot of folks end you here for two reasons,” he said. “They’re running from something or they’re looking to fix something with magic.”
“Do I look like I’d run from anything,” she said, a serious look in her eye.
He glanced at all five foot four of her as she brushed a strand of hair back from her eyes.
“That’s my default setting,” he joked.
She shook her head.
“I worked as a street cop for four years,” Zac said. “Had a partner been doing it for twenty and he taught me how to read people. Fair warning, Sheriff. Don’t play poker with me.”
“Call me Ben.”
“Ben, when you read people, you pick up on things. Like you. You look like the kind of man that doesn’t back up and doesn’t back down.”
He shook his head.
“And maybe you’re the saddest guy I’ve ever met.”
He snorted, but didn’t answer.
“I’m not out here trying to make magic fix something wrong with me. I don’t know magic, but I don’t think it works like that.”
“It doesn’t.”
She played with a finger for a few moments.
“Does it really matter why I’m here?”
“Not for the job,” said Ben. “The job’s yours if you want it.”
“I know.”
“Cocky,” it was his turn to smirk.
“I read it in your eyes.”
They stared at it each for a few moments in silence, taking measure.
“I followed a guy out here because of his job. His job introduced him to his secretary, and she introduced him to a whole new kind of life.
The kind without me in it.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. So I’m not some bleeding heart feeling sad for the short stick the Indians got and here to make it right. I’m not some sad sack hoping to get some medicine man to make me a love potion to get him back. Or anyone back. I’m just an east coast cop making my way in what’s left of the wild west and I liked being a cop.”
She settled in her seat and sighed.
“A pioneer,” said Ben.
She shrugged.
“Something like that.”
“We’ve had more than a few of those,” he mused. “Like I said, job is yours if you want it.”
“Maybe make a few things run from you.”
Ben nodded. He was satisfied with her response. “Alright, then,” he said. “Let’s see how you handle yourself out in the field. Meet me at the diner down the street in half an hour.”
Zac nodded.
She stood up from her chair.
“Yes, Sheriff,” she said, her voice steady.
As Zac left the office, Ben couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation.
He had a feeling that she was exactly what his team needed.
He listened to her voice as she wished Lucy a good day and clomped her big sand colored combat boots down the flight of stairs to the street level.
Lucy leaned against the doorjamb.
“She your next deputy?”
“Seems like it.”
“She’s gonna be trouble,” she said.
“Don’t I know it,” Ben said.
He stared in the direction where the woman had disappeared and wondered if he could handle any more trouble.
That joke she seemed to hold so secret might be worth it, he decided.
Cast a Spell with Old Magic – a modern western urban fantasy adventure
What Are You Reading This Week?
Readers have said over and over again, “It’s not a zombie book,” and they’re right. This is a story about a desperate father learning to become a leader as he scours a post apocalyptic wasteland on a hunt for his kids. His ragtag group of misfits face impossible odds in a world where the walking dead aren’t the worst thing to survive. Add this massive boxset of 24 books to your collection today and find out how long you’d survive.
You have the right to remain magic. Any spell you use can be used against you. If the Marshal of Magic shows up on your doorstep, chances are, you’ve done something wrong. Very wrong. Because when good witches go bad, there’s only one man up for the job. He’s fast on the spell and when he messes up, he does it big time. Like releasing twelve demons into the world from a ritual spell gone wrong. Now he has to clean them up. And stay alive in a job where the average Marshal only lasts for months. Man, magic is tough. Find out how in this big boxset urban fantasy adventure.
He’s the world’s luckiest hitman and he’s got one job. Hunt down the bad men in the world and retire them. Permanantly. But when he gets crossed up against a powerful man and the political machine behind him, can the Shadowboxer stay alive long enough to make them pay? Fans of action packed thrillers are loving this series.
Round up the posse and head ’em off at the pass. If you are a fan of classic western action adventure then this needs to be on your ereader. Packed with over twenty novels and short stories, this collection will satisfy any wild west cravings you might have until Yellowstone comes back.
Do you like your sci fi action packed page turners? Then download your copy of INDIRECT FIRE and get all the pulse pounding adventure right at your fingertips. Aliens, Invasions, Comedy and smart aleck heroes abound in this massive collection of science fiction novels that will keep you up late to find out what happens next.
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How Is This Supposed to Work?
I have a lot for you today so settle in.
Yes.
Got those too.
Sample of brand new series?
Oh yeah!
Plus, some free audiobooks on Youtube, and a couple of things just to light the fire in your brain and get you stoked for 2023.
I was going to share some plans with you too, just to let you know you weren’t alone.
But then I saw a vlog podcast with a Seal and I decided to share that instead.
In it, he talked about planning and the hold up.
He said he was the hold up.
Because he was a breacher, the guy who sneaks up to their entry point and sets a custom charge to blow open a door, or a hole in the wall, or to make a way for the rest of the team to get the job done.
He said the operation didn’t start until he was done with part one.
And part one was the most important part, because it was where the rubber met the road.
Where the most elite and highly trained fighting unit in the world discovered if any plan survived contact with the enemy.
He set the charge, moved back, double checked with the Team Leader to give him a nod, and then he set the wheels in motion with three little words.
“Execute. Execute. Execute.”
Or one word screamed thrice.
Then, and only then, did the action start.
He tied it in to most people, and I fall into this category a lot of times.
We are great at planning.
At wishing and wanting and hoping and dreaming.
But we gotta wake up every day and scream three words.
Execute.
Execute.
Execute.
Then get cracking on taking massive action.
I tried it this morning.
Leslie told me to shut up and asked what the hell was I doing screaming at 5 in the morning.
Which is how the rest of the world is going to react to you taking any sort of action to making you better, or it better or things better.
Like a game of verbal whack a mole.
Stick you head through the breach and get it smacked.
That’s what the training is for.
That’s why you go over the plan, revise the plan, and work the plan.
So you know what to do when the chaos starts.
Little if/then scenarios.
Because there will be chaos and deviations and upsets and distractions.
I can say this like it’s a universal truth, because I have been “planning” to go to the gym since 1/15.
But last week, a disc slipped doing something stupid, so I just sat.
Then work interfered and I was “tired.”
Then my important work (writing) seemed more important than lifting heavy so I spent time with it.
Plus house work.
And sleep.
And little time for anything else with twelve hour days killing most of my motivation.
Which is why the vlog struck home.
Sometimes we execute on the wrong things.
Working to make someone else money, or living someone else’s life.
The great thing about recognition is knowing it’s okay to adjust and get back on plan.
To return to the original mission.
So I’m executing today.
And I encourage you to get after it too.
Whatever your it might be.
True Nature – a Shadowboxer File
TRUE NATURE
He ran through the woods, the pack bouncing off his back as his feet crunched in the undergrowth and leaves.
He preferred to move quietly when he could but running for your life sometimes meant stealth had to go by the wayside.
He could hear a helicopter in the distance, the roaring of the rotors waxing and waning as it flew in wide circles, hunting for him.
He could hear the thumping echo off the stone cliff walls. It made it difficult to pinpoint a location.
All that mattered was they were out there.
Still hunting.
They wouldn’t stop.
Brill could smell water and the path ended at a river.
The water coursed out of the park, pushed out of the narrow canyon walls into a fifteen foot wide stream of fast moving water.
Even though it was clear, he couldn’t see the bottom.
He dropped his backpack ten feet back from the water and started looking for medium sized logs.
It wasn’t going to be easy to fashion a raft without tools, but a river pouring out of the highlands could move him much faster than he could run, and carry him farther away from the men searching for him.
It took fifteen minutes to gather up enough branches and logs.
He lashed them together with vines stripped from a tree, weaving it in a crisscross pattern.
He made a platform big enough to lay on, with two branches at the front and back to make outriggers for stability.
It was made quickly and wouldn’t last for more than a day, he knew, but his goal was to get on the water and get the hell out before the choppers got closer, or a team in the woods picked up his trail.
He launched from the side of the river back, water splashing him up to his chest.
It was cold.
The river was mostly snowmelt and runoff, the temperature somewhere between forty and fifty degrees.
He couldn’t stay in it for too long.
He shoved the raft to the center of the river with three strong powerful kicks and hauled himself on board.
He never would have done that in Africa.
Too many crocodiles, too many hippos.
Even a raft like this would have him second guessing a land route on the dark continent, no matter who was hunting him.
He felt a little safer in America.
Even with a kill team hunting him again.
The river kept a steady speed.
He tied two branches lashed together to steer, an awkward paddle, but long enough to propel him off the shore and bounce the raft around the middle of the rushing water.
He was starting to shiver. Even curled up in a fetal position around the pack, the body warmth was leaking off him too fast.
He needed to get off the water and get a fire built.
The river had carried him miles away from the canyons, and he hadn’t heard a helo in hours, but that didn’t mean they would stop looking.
A smart pilot would wait until dark, pull up the infrared cameras and start hunting for heat signatures.
It would be easy enough to find him against the cooling ground, even slightly hypothermic.
He tried to calculate the math in his head, but couldn’t get it to work. His muscles kept demanding his attention as they shook and seized.
Ten or fifteen miles downriver from the park, they couldn’t know what direction he escaped in, multiplied by run radius of nine to fifteen miles meant a heck of a lot of ground they would have to cover to search for him.
The chopper could make wide sweeps, and try to zero in on anything it caught.
But he could hear them long before they saw him.
He liked his chances for a fire until they did.
The river spit him into a long narrow lake.
He could tell by the receding shoreline on either side that the lake spread several hundred yards across, and even further in the middle.
He could try to ride the current as it pushed through the water, but the speed in the lake was slowing him to a drift.
The wind was picking up and it made him shiver harder and impeded his progress.
He decided to make camp here.
But before he could camp, he had to get wet again.
He slid over the edge of the branches and the shock of the water sent tremors through his body.
He gripped the edge of the branch with one hand and dog paddled toward the shore until he could feel muck under his feet.
He pulled the raft as far up on shore as he could, grabbed his pack and moved inland, casting about for a clear spot.
He found a shallow depression in the ground between two trees, partially blocked by a third fallen tree.
It provided good cover from three sides, and he made enough noise to scare off snakes.
The fallen tree also provided branches and kindling and ten minutes after he started, small flames flickered in the growing twilight.
He stripped off his clothes and hung them over branches to dry, then pulled out peanut butter to eat with his fingers.
The shivering stopped as the fire and food did their trick.
It gave his brain time to work.
He still had supplies for days, especially if he rationed, and could forage along the way.
The kill team sent for him at the National Park was gone, dispatched as they hunted him and the Deputy, but Barraque had plenty of bodies to throw his way.
Another would soon take their place.
He needed a plan.
THRONE AWAY – an action adventure fantasy
THRONE AWAY
Battle.
The catapults were the key to victory in any siege.
Everyone knew that.
So when the Armies of the southern kingdom reached the edge of the field surrounding the castle and they were without catapults, the occupants of the city breathed a collective sigh of relief.
They held out hope that there was indeed enough grain in the towers to at least make bread to keep the citizens trapped within the thick granite walls from starving.
The army manning the walls had plenty of arrows and fletching to shoot across the open fields when the southern army decided to march.
They had stones to drop on top of their armored heads, and oil in cast iron kettles ready to drizzle and burn on top of any who made it past the rain of arrows to the cover of the wall.
To even make the wall they must navigate a series of trenches filled with axe sharpened stakes and covered with feces to poison the blood of anyone who so much as scraped the sharp edges.
The General of the SAXON kingdom advised the King that they were well set and safe, especially in light of the lack of catapults lining the edge of the thick forest like the border to a shadow world.
Their confidence lasted until morning when watchers on the Tower brought word of giants among the men in the woods.
The General, a dour man with a giant scar on his big bald head huffed to the top of the tallest tower because he had never seen a giant in his many years of travelling and battle.
He felt a small sense of satisfaction in his skepticism when the giants in the shadows turned out to be the catapults of their nightmares.
His satisfaction melted into a sense of dread and doom because even he could see how the men mistook them for giants.
They were monstrous constructions, larger than any he had every encountered before.
The General, whose name was Holt, called for the King’s wizard to join him on the tower.
Batrick rushed across the courtyard and smacked into the side of the horse.
“Watch your damn head,” the man astride the warhorse bellowed.
Batrick the wizard held a hand to the knot on his head and swiped at the trickle of blood that oozed from the scrape.
The Knight gave a booming laugh and yanked the reins of his horse to turn it toward the gate.
“I don’t know why you bother,” Batrick muttered as he staggered back into his rushed pace and headed for the stairs that led to the top of the tallest tower in the keep.
He did not know much of battle or tactics or strategies of war, but he knew that the gates were closed, barred and locked and would remain that way so long as the enemy was outside of their gates.
A knight on his mount could do little good in the closed confines of the courtyard within the walls.
Better to be on foot and ready to defend the gates should they be breached, he thought as he mounted the steps and chided himself.
The gates would hold.
He had seen to the spell himself.
Batrick reached the wide platform at the top of the tower and stood as far away from the edge as he was allowed without seeming to be too afraid.
“You called for me,” he bit back the Sir.
Technically, as an adviser to the King, he was the equal of the General, but Batrick was still new to the post, new to his position and years junior the man in charge of the Kingdom’s armies.
“Come,” Holt motioned the younger man to the edge of the shallow wall that topped the platform.
He pointed to the shadows moving in the woods.
“Catapults,” he uttered the dreaded words and Batrick couldn’t say which scared him more.
The drop to certain death or the feared instruments of destruction they were convinced the invading army did not have.
“Your spies,” he started to say, but Holt cut him off.
“Lied,” he spat. “Bought off or fooled, it makes no matter. Can you get the measure of them with your magic?”
Batrick didn’t bother to correct the older man. He wouldn’t need magic for this particular trick.
It was simple mathematics the man asked for, a calculation he performed quickly in his head. The length of the arm would determine how far the catapult could launch a rock or boulder, and with the size of the behemoths rolling through the woods.
“Dear gods,” he muttered.
“Exactly as I thought,” Holt spit over the edge of the platform. “Sons of dogs and whores.”
He spun around and marched down the stairs.
“Come along,” he growled and didn’t wait to see if the man in the billowing robes followed.
He was used to giving orders and being obeyed.
It never occurred to him that someone wouldn’t.
CHAPTER TWO
“Sons of whores and dogs!” the King cursed when told the news.
Batrick nodded as Holt’s scowl of anger seemed to grow deeper.
“You’ll have your spies hung and quartered?” the King asked and turned toward his Queen as she sat a throne beside him.
He didn’t expect Holt to draw and quarter anyone, even though he said it. The siege engines would see to all of their destruction soon enough.
The Queen took his hand and held it in her own.
“Is there still a way?”
The King turned to Holt.
“You know what she asks.”
The General nodded.
“A small force, perhaps. A sully through the front gate as a distraction as they ride away.”
“Two distractions?” Batrick added. “If one group is spied fleeing, they will give chase, but two can serve and they will think it a warning to neighboring kingdoms.”
The King nodded at the wisdom of the suggestion.
“Can your magic create a third distraction?”
“Your majesty?” Batrick tilted his head in confusion.
“An illusion of a larger army, perhaps or something to confuse and befuddle our enemy?” the King clarified.
Batrick nodded.
“I live to serve.”
“We will all die in his service, so save the boot licking and get on with it,” Holt barked.
“How many will you send?” the King asked.
“A dozen should do,” Holt considered.
He snapped his fingers and a guard near the door leaped.
“Get Sir Roderick.”
The guard hustled through the doorway to retrieve the Knight.
“A good choice,” said the King. “Do you approve?”
The Queen gave a regal tilt of her royal head and graced her husband with a smile.
“He is the best choice,” she said. “If it were not for his charge, I should wonder at the wisdom of sending your best knight away from the fight we are to have.”
“You did not see the trouble they have in store for us, my Queen,” advised Holt. “Our best knights will be of little use buried under a pile of stone and rubble.”
The King and Queen both gasped, though he was better at hiding it. The bluntness of their General’s words left them both shaken.
“Could we surrender?” she asked in a soft voice.
“We could,” Holt said. “We will. If only to save the citizens locked in here with us.”
“And when we do?”
The King shook his head.
“You will go with Sir Roderick and Kimber,” he said.
“I will not abandon you,” she said, and the set of her firm chin told the King that an argument would be wasted on her.
“Our daughter needs you.”
“Our daughter needs both of us.”
“Your King commands it,” said Holt. “They will not go easy on those of us who remain.”
The clamor of armor clanked across the stone outside of the great hall.
The doors opened to emit Sir Roderick, the mounted Knight who Batrick bounced off of in the courtyard.
The man held his helm under one arm and glared at the robed wizard as he marched across the long runner leading up to the raised thrones.
“My King,” he knelt in front of his ruler. “My Queen. General.”
The Knight nodded to each in turn and bowed low.
“Sir Roderick, rise,” the King commanded. “We have a task for you and you alone.”
Sir Roderick used one hand to push off his bended knee and stood in front of the throne.
“I serve,” he answered.
“You are charged with the safety of Princess Kimber and her escape to our ally and neighbor, Arboryard.”
“My King.”
“You will lead a contingent of twelve Knights of the Brotherhood to protect your Princess and deliver her safely to her new home.”
Roderick glanced at the Queen and Holt.
“Majesty,” he agreed.
“You will accompany him Batrick,” the King turned to the wizard.
Batrick bowed his head.
“Wouldn’t your wizard be better by your side?” Roderick glared at the man in the robe.
“My wizard goes where I command, Sir Knight.”
Roderick bowed.
“My King.”
“You will be accompanied by the Queen,” the King said.
“Husband,” she snapped.
“I can not vouchsafe your safety here.”
“My place is at your side.”
“You can better protect our daughter and legacy, the heir to our throne.”
“I will be by your side,” she said again the finality of her tone suggested to the King and other men in the room that she would not be swayed nor argued from her position.
The King stared at her for a moment, his face a tumble of regret and confusion, fear and determination. He felt pride at the woman who wished to stand with him against their enemies, and fear that she was facing certain death.
It had never occurred to him until just that moment that he would be dying before the morrow came.
The leader of the Southern armies would surely put him to the blade as soon as he surrendered.
He hoped his sacrifice would earn his people a reprieve, and worried that his wife would receive the same punishment as he.
The King glanced at Holt, and sighed, a grim set to the old man’s face.
Perhaps there was one more thing he could do, if the woman would not go with their daughter to the safety of his alley.
“Batrick,” the King said. “How long to ready your distraction?”
“I can be ready in the hour, Sire.”
“And Sir Roderick, how long to prepare for your journey?”
“We will be ready in the hour as well,” Roderick shot a glare in Batrick’s direction.
“Twelve Knights to accompany you,” the King commanded. “And your retinue. A dozen more to go in the opposite direction. Make it so.”
He waved a hand to dismiss everyone from the room and held his Queen’s hands to his lips.
“I hope we are doing the right thing,” he whispered into her skin and she shivered.
She had no answer for him as he helped her rise so they could go say good bye to their progeny.
ALL ABOUT APRIL FREE BOOK FESTIVAL GIVEAWAY
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How Long Would You Last – an action packed short
In the early days of the outbreak, when chaos first descended upon the city, Jack found himself separated from his children in the blink of an eye.
The streets had erupted into pandemonium as the dead rose from their graves, their hunger for flesh driving them to hunt down the living with relentless ferocity.
Jack had been out running errands when the first signs of trouble began to surface.
Panic spread like wildfire through the crowded streets, sending people scrambling for safety.
Amidst the chaos, Jack’s only thought was to get back to his children, to ensure their safety in the face of this unimaginable horror.
But as he fought his way through the throngs of panicked civilians, Jack soon realized that getting home would be no easy task.
The streets were overrun with zombies, their rotting bodies lurching forward with a single-minded determination to consume all who crossed their path.
With each passing moment, Jack’s heart pounded harder in his chest, his mind filled with a growing sense of dread.
He knew he had to find shelter soon, before it was too late.
But the thought of his children alone in the midst of this nightmare spurred him on, driving him forward through the chaos.
As he ducked into alleyways and side streets, Jack’s every sense was on high alert, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.
But the zombies seemed to be everywhere, their groans echoing through the empty streets like a haunting requiem for the world that once was.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jack reached his neighborhood, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed open the door to his apartment building.
But as he climbed the stairs to his floor, dread settled like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach.
The door to his apartment stood ajar, the sounds of chaos spilling out into the hallway.
With a sinking feeling in his heart, Jack pushed open the door, his worst fears confirmed as he stepped inside.
The apartment was in shambles, the furniture overturned and broken, the remnants of a desperate struggle.
And there, in the corner of the room, huddled together in terror, were his children.
Relief flooded through Jack like a tidal wave as he rushed to gather them in his arms, holding them close as though afraid they might vanish into thin air.
But even as he held them tight, he knew that their ordeal was far from over.
With the city overrun by zombies and danger lurking around every corner, Jack knew that they couldn’t stay in their apartment for long. They would need to find a safer place to hide, a refuge where they could wait out the storm until help arrived.
But as they ventured back out into the streets, the full extent of the devastation became painfully clear. The once bustling city was now a ghost town, its streets littered with the remnants of humanity’s futile struggle against the undead horde.
With each passing day, Jack and his children fought tooth and nail to survive, scavenging for food and supplies amidst the ruins of their former lives. But despite their best efforts, the threat of the zombies was ever-present, a constant reminder of the fragile thread that held their world together.
And so they journeyed on, their bond growing stronger with each passing hardship. For in a world overrun by zombies, love was the only currency that truly mattered, the one thing that could never be taken away.
And as they huddled together in the safety of the bunker, Jack knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, as long as they were together, they could face anything. For in the end, love was the only weapon they truly needed to survive in a world consumed by darkness.
As Jack and his children huddled together in the safety of the bunker, relief washed over them like a soothing balm. Sarah, Jack’s daughter, wrapped her arms tightly around him, her voice trembling with emotion. “Dad, I was so scared. I thought we’d never see you again.”
Jack held her close, his voice choked with tears. “I promised I’d find you, Sarah. No matter what.”
Tommy, his son, chimed in, his eyes wide with wonder. “Dad, you were like a superhero out there, fighting all those zombies!”
Jack chuckled softly, tousling Tommy’s hair. “Just doing what I had to do, buddy. I’d take on a hundred zombies if it meant keeping you two safe.”
Sarah leaned back, studying her father with a mixture of awe and concern. “But Dad, how did you even find us? We thought we were goners.”
Jack’s gaze softened as he recounted the harrowing journey that had led him to their hiding place. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I never stopped believing that we’d be together again. And when I heard your voice, Sarah, it was like a beacon guiding me home.”
Tommy nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. “You’re the best, Dad. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”
Jack’s heart swelled with pride as he looked at his children, their faces illuminated by the dim light of the bunker. “You already are, Tommy. You’re brave and strong, just like your old man.”
As they settled in for the night, Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the precious moments they shared together. Despite the dangers that lurked outside, he knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever challenges came their way.
But even in the safety of the bunker, the threat of the undead loomed large in Jack’s mind. He knew they couldn’t stay hidden forever. Eventually, they would have to venture back out into the world, to face the horrors that awaited them.
But for now, as they nestled together in the warmth of their makeshift shelter, Jack allowed himself to savor the simple joy of being reunited with his children. And as sleep claimed them one by one, he whispered a silent vow to protect them with his very life, no matter what trials lay ahead.
For in a world overrun by zombies, love was the only weapon they truly needed. And as long as they had that, they would always find a way to survive.
In a world shattered by a zombie apocalypse, survival is a ruthless game.
One man, a relentless father driven by an unyielding love for his children, battles through a land consumed by decay and the undead.
Facing a cunning and formidable foe, he navigates a perilous journey, uncovering dark secrets and confronting the demons within.
With every step, he grapples with the ghosts of the past and a relentless rage that fuels his quest for justice.
As alliances shift and betrayals loom, the line between savior and monster blurs.
Will he rescue his children from the clutches of a ruthless warlord, or will the cost of survival prove too high in this relentless, post-apocalyptic saga?
Battlefield Z Complete Boxset – Massive collection of over 20 books
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village bordered by wild, whispering woods, there lived a whimsical witch named Elara. Known for her playful spells and a penchant for mischief, Elara spent her days concocting potions and casting enchantments, much to the villagers’ bemusement.
One bright morning, as the sun cast a golden glow over the village, Elara decided to try a new transformation spell she had been tinkering with. With a flick of her wand and a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she recited the incantation, expecting to turn into a bird. However, to her surprise, she found herself looking at the world from a much lower vantage point, with whiskers twitching and a tail swishing behind her. She was a cat!
Elara, now a sleek black feline with emerald eyes, reveled in her newfound agility and grace. She pranced around the village, leaping from rooftops and darting through alleys, enjoying the confusion of the villagers who saw a cat where their witch should be.
But as fate would have it, her frolics soon caught the attention of a boisterous dog named Rufus. With a bark that echoed through the streets, Rufus gave chase, convinced that this cat was a most intriguing playmate. Elara, with her heart pounding in her tiny chest, dashed through the village, seeking refuge from her enthusiastic pursuer.
The chase led them into the heart of the woods, where Elara realized she needed to turn back into her witchy self to escape Rufus’s relentless pursuit. But there was a catch – her wand had fallen out of her collar during the mad dash, and without it, she couldn’t reverse the spell.
Determined to find a solution, Elara used her feline instincts to retrace her steps, all while evading Rufus, who was still hot on her trail. She encountered various woodland creatures, each offering advice and assistance – from the wise old owl who suggested she seek the moon’s blessing, to the sly fox who offered a shortcut through a thorny thicket.
After what felt like hours of searching, Elara finally spotted her wand, glinting under a beam of sunlight that pierced through the canopy. Just as she reached for it, Rufus burst through the bushes, barking joyously. In a panic, Elara grabbed the wand with her teeth and, recalling the words of the wise owl, she wished upon the moon – even though it was broad daylight.
To her amazement, the spell worked! A silvery light enveloped her, and in a matter of moments, Elara stood on two legs once more, her witch’s robes fluttering around her. Rufus, now faced with a human instead of a cat, sat down with a puzzled tilt of his head.
Elara couldn’t help but laugh, and with a gentle pat on Rufus’s head, she thanked him for the unexpected adventure. Together, they walked back to the village, where Elara’s return was met with relief and laughter.
From that day on, Elara was a bit more cautious with her spells, but she always kept a special place in her heart for the dog who had chased her through the woods and, inadvertently, helped her find her way back.
And as for Rufus, he had found a new friend in the witch, and he proudly accompanied her on many more (carefully planned) adventures to come.
The end.
Books by Chris Lowry
Classic Sci Fi
- High Steaks
- Eon
- Era
- Neural Nexus – a sci fi action adventure
The Dipole Series
- Parralax
- Whiskey Bent
The Invasion Earth Series
- Ultima Thule
- Infilade
- Dust Off
- Phalanx
- Defilade
Sheriff Ben Logan Series
- First Rodeo
- Strange Bedfellows
- As The Night is Long
- Blame it on the Moon
- West of Anywhere
The Marshal of Magic Series
- MythUnderstood
Witchmas – The Marshal of Magic Boxset
The Crescent City Coven Series
Ware the Cats of War – an urban fantasy adventure
City Magic – an urban fantasy adventure
Bayou Magic – an urban fantasy adventure
The BIG EZ COVEN SERIES
The Battlefield Z Series
- Everglades Zombie
- Overland Zombie
- Lone Star Zombie
- Cowboy Zombie
- Silent Run
- Restricted
BOXSET
Battlefield Z – The Complete adventures giant boxset
- Asset
- True Nature
- Nominee
- False Flag
- Burn Bag
- Nazi Nukes – guest appearance
- Classified – The Shadowboxer Files
- Redacted – The Shadowboxer Files
The Shadowboxer Files – Massive Boxset
The Jake Burbank Mysteries
- A Shot of Revenge
- A Double Shot of Revenge
- Death by a 45
- Back to Business – sequel to Touched
- Friends Like These – book three in the Touched trilogy
- Shadows of the Past – a thriller
- All In – A Jack House Thriller
Fantasy Adventure
- The Holy War – Blood Bound
- The Holy War – Oath Bound
- The Holy War – Honor Bound
- Rebel and Traitor
- Warrior and King
Westerns
- Judged by Twelve
- Carried by Six
- Texas Cakewalk
- As Good As Dead
- Dead on Arrival
NON-FICTION
The PROSE AND PROFIT Series
Author Moonshot Grow Big With Little Books
Author Moonshot Bootstrap Marketing
The 90 Cent Marketing Solution
Author Moonshot Marketing Cheatsheet
Marketing Monster How to Build a Massive Email List
Chris Lowry Books 