Prologue

It all began in Miami, where Annihilation was introduced. It was marketed as a perfectly legal high, and sold as a mind blowing herbal incense. This psychoactive designer drug was similar to the synthetic cannabis K2 and was quick to get banned, but the damage had already been done.

The underground chemists that created this drug had been one step ahead, and by continuing to alter the chemical compositions and mixtures ever so slightly, they were able to keep it legal. When it was available on the market, hundreds of people flocked to the second-rate gas stations, tobacco and head shops to take it home.

Unfortunately, when Annihilation is snorted, smoked, or injected, it causes the human body to be irreversibly changed.

According to the news before the city fell, it was reported that the drug contains MDPV and it’s mixed with an East African plant called Khat. When the human body is exposed to this combination it causes catastrophic side effects. It starts with an increased heart rate, extreme anxiety/agitation, numbness in the arms and legs, collapse and death. And then, approximately two hours later, reanimation. In all reported cases.

They rise from the dead with no thoughts, no conscience, no memory, only the most basic need. The need to feed. They become crazed cannibals, violently assaulting any living being that they see. The police and media aptly named them feeders.

When the outbreak first started, no one saw this coming and most people were mowed down like grass. Women, children and the elderly were the first victims. The worst part is, that it doesn’t just end there. These feeders are carrying a virus which is highly contagious. If they scratch, bite or any of their bodily fluids become intertwined with a living human being, they will become infected. Within a few short hours they will drop dead and become re-animated into a mindless, flesh craving lunatic.

The city of Miami was not prepared to deal with this type of cataclysmic event.  The media broadcast the first televised encounter of the Annihilation epidemic. Security cameras on the Herald building, in downtown Miami, showed a feeder attacking a sixty-five year old homeless man sleeping on a bench. The feeder viciously attacked his helpless victim and ripped his skin away while eating and chewing off his face.

The video showed the first cop arrive on the scene and approach the feeder. He shouted at him to stop with his gun drawn and ready, but the feeder only looked at the cop for a brief second and growled at him like a wild animal, and then returned to eating the man’s face. The officer fired and scored three shots center mass on the cannibal. This immediately dropped the feeder on top of his meal, and the cop moved in for a closer look.

The anxiety on the cop’s face was plain as day, as he looked around searching for his back-up that hadn’t arrived yet. He made the decision to move forward, and used his foot to move the feeder, rolling him off the bench and onto the ground.

He stood, oblivious and transfixed by the victim, and leaned over him to inspect his wounds, when he felt a hand on his shoulder bring him back to reality. It was his partner, or a fellow officer, and it startled the hell out of him. They both stared in awe as they saw how the victim’s face, eyes and nose were torn off during the attack.

The footage then showed the officers setting up a crime scene and on their radios, when the second officer abruptly dropped. The feeder had gotten up and attacked the officer by biting him in the groin. His partner quickly reacted and was bitten in the neck by the faceless homeless man, who had been infected and reanimated. After that, it was a complete bloodbath as the cops were eaten alive.

The news then reported an insurrection in Little Havana, violent attacks happening simultaneously from Coconut Grove to Liberty City. They tried to quarantine it, control it, contain it, but one attack turned into ten, ten turned into a hundred, a hundred into a thousand etc…

Miami fell to the feeders, the city was a total loss.

****

Episode 1

(Annihilation)

“Fuck!” Mason muttered aloud to himself.

He was curled up in his makeshift guard tower trying to get some sleep when, off in the distance, he heard and smelled them coming. He had been walking his way up the eastern Florida coast since the outbreak started, trying to not get mangled, eaten or ripped limb from limb.

The sun had just cracked over the horizon, and the gentle waves crashing against the beach made for a picturesque scene. Until he got a visual on the trio of feeders coming his way. Last night, Mason had found a lifeguard stand lying on its side. He lifted it up so that he had his back to the Atlantic Ocean, and so he had a direct view of his left and right flanks as well as a wide open swath of beach before him. After a long night’s walk, he had managed to get a few hours of sleep, but it looked like that was going to change.

He studied the gruesome threesome as they retardedly tried to walk, but were fumbling down the beach. What a bunch of ugly, disgusting mother fuckers, he thought. He grabbed his trusty Estwing Camper's Ax and slowly climbed down the lifeguard stand.

The deep, coarse sand slowed down the feeders considerably, giving Mason an upper hand for close quarters combat. He angled his way to engage them one at a time. The first one he encountered looked as if he was a homeless beach bum in his previous life. Mason stopped in macabre and studied him closely; he was wearing a straw hat and a dirty, bloody pair of shorts. As Mason moved closer to this disgusting creature, he noticed that it was ripping out its own intestines and flicking them in Mason’s direction.

“Ugh…You nasty piece of shit!” Mason shouted, as he wielded his ax in a perfect arc, splitting the feeder’s skull from forehead to chin. As his kill crumpled before him, Mason suddenly realized that he had misjudged the speed of these creatures and that the second one was coming up behind him, and only inches away.

In one fluid motion, Mason jerked his back over his left shoulder, slamming the butt of his ax into the feeder’s eye socket. That was all it took to put an end to that little sneaky bastard for good.

Mason yanked his ax back forward and took a quick scan of his latest kill before he came face to face with the last of the three feeders. His opponent stood before him, grinding his teeth, drooling blood, and a split second away from overrunning him due to his pure size alone. He was a monster unto himself; this feeder was about 6ft 11’ and had to be well over three hundred pounds.

Mason reacted like a wild animal. He viciously swung his ax at the feeder’s outer thigh, severing the flesh eater’s right leg and dropping him onto the sand like a beached whale. Blood lust took over and Mason started swinging his ax into the feeder’s face over and over and over.

Several minutes later, Mason got control of himself and stared at the monster that he had just hacked into a bloody, lifeless pulp. Annihilation, he thought. How could it all have come to this? His mind wandered back to how it all started and why he found himself in this precarious situation.

****

Mason was using the ocean to wash away the blood from his ax when he sensed something was afoot. He spun around with his ax raised to strike, when he saw a little Boston terrier puppy running towards him. He lowered his ax and leaned over to pet the dog that was sniffing his ankles. “Look at you, little fella,” Mason said,, as he was petting and scratching his new little friend.

“So what’s your name, little buddy?” Mason said, as he was glad to have someone else around that wasn’t trying to eat him.

“Cujo. Cujo, come here boy.” Mason heard, off in the distance.

“Really, your name is Cujo?” Mason chuckled.

“Hey, he’s over here,” Mason shouted back.  Onto the beach walked a stunningly beautiful girl in her early twenties.

“Who the hell are you?” She said, as she pulled a 9mm Beretta from her waistline.

“Whoa now … take it easy” Mason said, as he was staring down the barrel that was now pointed at him and about six feet away from his face.

“I was just passing through, and your dog came up to me,” Mason said, with a smile.

“Cujo, get your mangy dog ass over here now!” she barked, as her Boston terrier promptly obeyed and went right over to her.

“You have a way with words, I like your style,” Mason said. “I’ve been walking up the coast, trying to stay alive and kill as many of these fucking feeders as I can.”

“Well, I’m glad you're not infected, or I would have had to shoot you in the head,” she said, as she lowered her weapon.

“Where am I? I’ve been walking for days,” he asked.

“You're right smack in the middle of Cocoa Beach,” she said, as she was petting Cujo.

“Is it safe here? Are there more survivors? Have you heard any news?” Mason asked, curiously.

“No, it’s definitely not safe here; we should probably move before they come. You can come with me if you like; there are a couple of us holding up in a beach house across the street. I’ll fill you in on all of the details that I know, and we have some food if you're hungry,” she said, genuinely wanting him to come with her.

“Sounds like a plan,” Mason instantly agreed. “Hey, what’s your name by the way?” he asked.

“Pualani… ok, come on then, let’s go,” she said, as she picked up her dog and started walking.

“Pualani, what the hell kinda name is that?” he asked, as he started jogging to keep up with her.

“It’s a Hawaiian name.”

As he caught up to her, Mason was taken aback by her beauty. She had long black hair, about 5ft 1’ and maybe a hundred pounds, soaking wet. She had round, full lips with Asian eyes and a perfect derriere.

“So, you’re Hawaiian then, and you’re in Florida? Long way from home it looks like,” Mason said, as he was trying to make conversation.

“Yep, my dad was Hawaiian Chinese, and my mom was Irish,” she said, as she smiled at him.

“Wow, that’s one hell of a mix. Maybe you should run for president,” Mason said, as he laughed out loud.

As they walked over the beach access, they stopped dead in their tracks. There were about twenty feeders in the parking lot, milling about. He grabbed her and motioned for her to crouch down next to him.

“Man… I hate these sons of bitches. How many rounds do you have in that clip? Do you have any other weapons?" he asked, “I don’t think they’ve seen us yet.”

“I’ve got a full clip, fifteen plus one in the chamber, I think. We can’t take them all out, there are too many, let’s just go back,” she said, shaking. And then, Cujo started yapping like a dog possessed.

“Oh my god, shut that dog up,” Mason said as he looked at the dog, and suddenly realized the dog was barking to warn them of about five feeders coming up behind them on the beach access path.

The Feeders in the parking lot had heard the dog barking and were making their way towards them now also. Mason grabbed the gun out of Pualani's hand and stood up. “Follow me and stay close!” He said, with a look of murder in his eyes.

“Hey you! Do you want some… C’mon!” Mason shouted as he ran towards the vicious pack of monsters that were moving towards him. As he came up on the first feeder, he slammed the barrel of his newly acquired Beretta into its forehead and pulled the trigger.

A loud pop was clearly audible as the back of the feeder’s head exploded onto the ground.

“Pualani! I’m going to create a diversion for you. Run! And get the hell outta here as fast as you can,” Mason shouted as he simultaneously blasted a feeder and decapitated another with a backhand swing of his ax.

“No, Wait - There are too many, you won’t make it.” She said as she stood in awe of this man as he moved through the feeders with suicidal rage, using his ax like a tomahawk and slaughtering feeders as he drew them away from her.  She couldn’t wait any longer, she saw an opening and, clutching her dog, she ran.

Mason had successfully drawn off the feeders, but he was almost out of ammo and was wearing down. There were bashed in headless corpses all strewn throughout the parking lot. He had got himself pinned down and was now utterly surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered. He had climbed onto a gazebo about 4ft off the ground and had the advantage of higher ground, but was totally isolated. Well this is gonna be it, he thought. At least Pualani got away.

He considered standing on top of the railing and diving head first into the feeders, swinging his ax with every ounce of energy he had left. Until he saw a brilliant flash, and heard the harmonious sounds of small arms gunfire.

The grenade had knocked Mason flat on his back, and all he could hear were bells ringing and the beautiful sight of feeders getting picked off like fish in a barrel. It only took a second for Mason to get his wits back, but there was no mistaking the sounds of automatic rifles. After the smoke cleared, he saw two men with AK-47s slaughtering feeders with ease.

“Hey!...If you wanna live, come to us now, we are getting low on ammo,” the man shouted.

Mason tucked his empty Beretta into his belt and jumped off the railing into the parking lot and ran to the two men, taking the jaw clean off one of the feeders that was blocking his path on the way over.

“Follow us,” the man said as they all ran for their lives. They made it across the street and into the back gate of a town house. They immediately got inside and closed and locked the doors. Mason was the last one through and, upon entering, he saw Pualani sitting on the couch with Cujo nuzzled in her lap.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” she said, genuinely happy.

“I was a goner for sure if it wasn’t for these guys, thank you!” Mason said as he put his hand out to thank his rescuers. “My name is Mason Briggs, and I owe both of you big time, for saving my ass,” he said, still a little shaken. “I thought I was fucking done.”

“Feck it man, It’s her I do be thinking of, and you saved her arse, so that does be making us even,” he said, in an Irish brogue. “Me name is Barry, an' me friends called me 'Irish Barry', and this lad is Brody.”

“You killed a shitload of those bastards with that ax, impressive,” Brody said as he extended his hand for a shake.

****

The four of them stayed up all night, sitting at the kitchen table drinking cans of Yuengling, and getting to know each other. At first, there were quite a few heated exchanges between Barry, Brody and Pualani about how she recklessly left the town house to search for Cujo without an escort, but that soon abated into laughter and promises of never doing it again.

Mason was happy to be a part of this newly found group and, from what he could tell, they had all worked together at a restaurant/resort in Cocoa Beach, when the outbreak started. They had wild stories of customers from the previous night returning as hungry feeders. They came back for dinner, but not for the Cuban sandwiches or the burgers. They came for flesh and blood, rare. Still walking, if possible.

They told the story of how they had barely made it out alive—with only Irish Barry’s cleaver—and made it onto the beach to hide until they found a suitable safe house. The town house that they found was not abandoned, but belonged to a friend of Brody’s who was a conspiracy theorist and a survivalist. Brody knew this was a perfect place to hide and reorganize, because he would be well stocked with weapons, supplies and beer.

Unfortunately, they got a little more than they bargained for when they came knocking on the door. They could see through the window that their friend, Juan, had been infected and was sitting on the couch feasting upon a naked female.

After a closer inspection, Brody became enraged when he realized that the naked female being dismembered by Juan was his ex-wife.  Brody had lost any semblance of control and dove through the window head first, creating such a ruckus that even Juan became distracted from his meal.

In a fit of rage, Brody solidly kicked Juan in the solar plexus, knocking him head over heels and into the bathroom. He motioned towards Irish Barry to toss him the cleaver and, when he had it in his hand, he walked up to Juan and lodged that cleaver into the top of his head.

Barry and Pualani were able to secure a couple of AK-47’s, assorted handguns and grenades that were scattered on the ground, while Brody murderously hacked Juan into pieces. A bloody Brody emerged from the bathroom to wish his cheating ass ex-wife a final farewell, when what was left of her pathetic, mangled body became re-animated, and started to slide herself towards Barry. “Not today, Cunt!” was all you could hear as Barry took the butt of his AK-47 and smashed it into her face several times, emptying her brain bucket all over the rug.

After they had dragged what was left of the bodies outside and onto the deck, they sat and watched them burn in the chimnea. Pualani had begged Barry and Brody to come with her to retrieve Cujo. They reluctantly agreed and retrieved the dog without incident. After returning to the town house, they secured the windows and blocked off all of the possible entry points. They also found several cases of beer.  By now, there was no power, and the entire infrastructure in Cocoa Beach had utterly collapsed. They were able to use the remaining charge on Juan’s laptop to ascertain that Florida had been marked a total loss.

The state had a coastal blockade and was locked down on all sides. The headline on the cached page of Yahoo news was Rise of Chaos and Florida Falls to the Annihilation Epidemic.  The only direction for survivors was to hunker down and wait for help. The entire state was infected and under government quarantine. As far as they knew, the border with Georgia was where the infection ended.

They sat around the kitchen table, finishing off what was left of the beer and discussing their next move. “Well, we can’t stay here forever, and I’m not waiting for any help because they're not coming,” Brody said as he let out a momentous beer belch.

“Agreed, we’re fucking sitting ducks here, we need to find supplies and fortify a position,” Mason chimed in.

“Really, you want to go back out there? It’s crawling with feeders,” Pualani said, not on board with where this plan was going to take them.

“Aye, luv, we do be needing to get de feck outta here,” came Barry’s reply as he put his arm around Pualani to comfort her.

“Anyone have ideas on where we can go?” Mason asked.

After a long pause, it was Brody who looked up and said, “This is Cocoa Beach, and there is nothin’ here but bars and strip clubs, and we are outta beer,” as he crunched the last can of Yuengling in his palm.

“Aye, mate, I do believe you to be onto something ’ere, Hogan’s pub is right up the road, and there’ll be Guinness on tap if we’re lucky.”

“Wait, what? You want to go to the pub? The whole goddamn world is ending, and you want to search for Guinness?” Pualani said, obviously perturbed.

“I’m in, not to mention that we can stock up on supplies (beer) and that pub was just built, it can withstand a category 5 hurricane, I’m sure we can fortify it against feeders.” Brody said, immensely liking Barry’s idea.

“No way! I’m not going anywhere, at least it’s somewhat safe here,” Pualani said.

“C’mon look around, it’s not safe here,” Brody said as he started to raise his voice. “This place smells like death, and I just hacked my best friend and ex-wife to pieces—and then fucking burned them! It’s safe to say I’m a little fucking creeped out.”

“He’s right, we gotta get outta here,” Mason said, solemnly. “Let’s vote, the majority rules.”

“You already know I’m down,” Brody said.

“Aye, I’m in,” the Irishman concurred.

“Well, I’m NOT going to stay here by myself,” Pualani said, pouting.

“I agree also; it’s decided then,” Mason said as he took charge. “OK, let’s first gather and distribute all of the remaining weapons and ammo. Pualani, I’m assuming you’re going to want to take the dog?”  Mason asked, innocently.

“What do you think, dickhead?” she snarled back at him.

“Lass, it’s oookay, I know you be scared, we’ll protect ya always,” Barry said, rubbing her back.

Mason smiled as he picked up a messenger bag and cut a small round hole on the outside flap and tossed it to her. “You’re welcome,” Mason said, mischievously.

She opened the bag and Cujo instantly leaped inside, sniffing around it and settling in with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” she said caustically.

The group had piled all of the weapons and ammo onto the kitchen table. It consisted of two AK-47’s with slings and  bayonets, ten full 30 round AK magazines and about a thousand extra 7.62x39mm rounds. Next to that was Pualani’s Beretta, that  had been returned with about three hundred rounds, a Mossberg 500 Shotgun with about seventy couple 3 inch shotgun slugs, four Mk 2 "Pineapple" grenades, a Ball-peen hammer, a couple of North Face backpacks, and Mason’s Estwing Camper's Ax.

“Well, it’s safe to say we’re in pretty good shape,” Mason said. “So, you guys were here first, who wants what?” Mason asked, picking up his ax.

“I’m taking my fucking Beretta back,” Pualani said, tucking it into her waistband.

“Good, take the nine millimeter ammo that goes with it,” Mason said, starting to get annoyed with her attitude.

Rolling her eyes she snatched it off the table and put it into the side pocket of her messenger bag as she slipped it on over her shoulder. Cujo’s head popped out of the newly cut hole, with a look of confusion on his face.

“I’ll take the shotgun and hammer,” Brody said as he grabbed one of the backpacks and started to load it with the shotgun slugs.

“I do believe I’ll be taking this AK,” Barry said as secured the bayonet to the rifle.

“Alright, everyone take a grenade. Barry we’ll split the ammo for the AK’s. Anyone here got any military experience?” Mason asked, curiously.

Everyone’s eyes looked down as they all shook their heads.  “What about you, Mason?” Pualani asked.

“Yes, I spent eleven years in the Navy,” Mason said.

There was a little chuckle in the room as Pualani said, “Well, good thing you’re at the helm. I don’t know what we’d do, if we had to swab the deck all alone, matey.”

Mason couldn’t help but laugh; there was no use getting angry at this ragtag group of twenty-something year olds. They were obviously at the stage in life where they believed that they knew everything but, in reality, didn’t know shit.

“Funny. Let’s just say that I haven’t swabbed any P-ways for a while,” Mason said as he racked the clip into his AK and chambered a round into his magazine.

“I’m with you bro… I watched you kill at least a dozen feeders with that ax. What do you want us to do?” said Brody.

“We move together as a group, in formation, save your ammo and use your hammer and bayonet. It’s extremely important that we stay together; if anyone separates, or tries to play video game hero, you could get us all killed.” Mason said, seriously. “Are we clear?”

“Aye,” said Barry.

“Whatever dude,” Pualani said.

“Yup, I’ve seen that movie before,” Brody said as he was swinging his ball-peen hammer around the kitchen like a maniac. “You know, my brother has a hog farm in Georgia and, before I was a busboy, I used to work there with him.” It was obvious that Brody had a little beer buzz and was being overly talkative. “This is what we used to use when we killed those nasty hogs, believe it or not. One quick smash to the noggin and they were toast.”

“Well, let’s put that theory into effect with the feeders,” Mason said as he put the idea of setting up on a hog farm to the back of his mind.

****

They spent the remainder of that night planning their egress and sobering up. They had drawn a crude map to Hogan’s on a napkin. Dawn was approaching, and they were ready to make their move.

“I count about twenty-five of these fuckers directly in our way,” Brody said as he pointed out the window.

“Yep, I see them,” Mason said as he reached into Pualani’s bag and pulled out her grenade.

“Hey, what the fuck? Use your own grenade,” she said, feeling violated.

“You’ll thank me later, when you still have all of your digits attached,” Mason said as he tightly held the grenade in his hand and focused his attention on the feeders outside.

As Mason cleared the obstruction in front of the back door, he put his hand on the doorknob and looked back at the trio. “I’m going out first, and I’m going to make some noise to draw them away. Barry, you’re up front, remember, save your ammo and use your bayonet. Pualani, I want you in the middle with your Beretta out. Brody, take up the rear with the shotgun. Stay tight, move fast and don’t worry about me, I’ll catch up.”

They nodded their heads in silent unison as Mason opened the door, pulled the pin and threw the grenade.  They waited breathlessly for a few seconds, until they heard the unmistakable sound of the grenade explosion.

Mason jerked the door back open, shouldering his AK and dropping to one knee. “Go, go, go!” he shouted as he started laying down cover fire. The group moved efficiently through the door and started their four block journey to their new sanctuary.

Mason observed the carnage that his grenade had caused. There were feeders in varying states of disrepair. The grenade itself had put down at least seven of them and crippled another ten.  There were twelve or so walking in circles, bumping into each other dazed and confused. Mason opened fire.

When he finished clearing the field of feeders, he heard the roar of a 12 gauge shotgun, and snapped back into the present. He changed out his clip, double checked his bayonet was secure and started moving towards the group.

The group made the first two blocks quickly and without incident moving along Poinsetta Ave. As they rounded the corner onto Garfield Ave, they came face to face with a mob of feeders blocking their path, and who were suddenly aware of them.

“Feck,” Barry said as he stood, stunned.

“Don’t stop, there are more coming behind us now,” Pualani cried.

Brody had stopped to reload his Mossberg, when he also noticed about a dozen more feeders coming up behind him. He quickly scanned the area and noticed an abandoned Land Rover with a heavy duty steel roof rack.

“There!” Brody shouted, pointing at the Land Rover.

The group instantly bolted for the truck. Barry was the first to get there and realize that the door was locked.

“Climb up onto the top roof rack, lass!” Barry yelled as he picked up Pualani and effortlessly tossed her onto the hood. Brody was hot on her heels and, shouldering his 12 gauge, he leaped up onto the truck, swinging from the roof rack for a split second until he landed inside the roof rack, smacking right into Pualani and Cujo and almost knocking them out of the cage.

“Hey, watch out you clumsy mother fucker, you almost crushed my dog,” she snarled.

“Man… Fuck your dog!” Brody vehemently replied. “Barry, get your Mick ass up here,” Brody said as he reached his arm down to help pull Barry back in.

“Aye, I’m comin',” Barry said as he finished emptying his clip into the crowd of feeders. As he turned his back to clasp Brody’s hand, a feeder appeared from underneath the truck. Barry was halfway into the steel cage of the truck when he felt a sharp pain in his ass.

“Ahhh!” Barry screamed as the feeder ripped off a piece of flesh from his gluteus maximus. Brody had to brace himself against the cage as he was almost pulled off the top of the truck from the sheer force of Barry yanking back. The feeder had taken a second bite out of Barry’s buttocks, and Brody could feel his grip weakening. By now, half a dozen feeders were at the base of the truck, shredding the flesh from the back of Barry’s legs with their teeth.

Brody looked into Barry’s face and paused for a split second as he picked up the Beretta lying at Pualani’s feet with his free hand.

“I’m so sorry, brother,” was all that Brody could say as he pulled the trigger and fired the Beretta point blank into Barry’s face.

****

Mason turned the corner onto Garfield Ave, just in time to see Barry’s head explode, and watch his lifeless body fall into the crowd of feeders gathered around the Land Rover. Oh no, he thought. This is my fault; I could have prevented this if I had a better plan or if I’d have moved faster. Remorse turned into anger as he snapped out of his reverie. Get it together, man, he thought. Size up the situation and react.

There were about twenty feeders circling the truck, they were making a futile effort to mangle the two and a half remaining occupants. Luckily for them, they were about nine feet off of the ground, in a steel cage. He could see that Brody and Pualani were immobilized by shock; Brody was rocking her back and forth in his arms as she was weeping hysterically in the fetal position. They seem ok for now; I need a plan, think goddammit! Mason thought to himself as he surveyed the area.

Mason saw movement on the roof out of the corner of his eye.  He noticed on top of the flat roof of Hogan’s pub that there were two guys, and one of them had a rifle. The man on the roof was shooting at the feeders that had surrounded the Land Rover.

A plan was forming in Mason’s mind as he aimed his AK at the meatbags and he too started firing. The feeders started to steadily drop to the ground from the effective headshots being delivered by Mason and his new ally. Mason heard the second man shouting something from the roof, but couldn’t make out what he was saying until the man lifted up a sign that read Keys In Visor!!!!

Mason gave big thumbs up to the other man and started to angle towards the truck. He pondered the thought of using his other grenade, but figured it was too close to his friends, and he didn’t want to be responsible for any more friendly casualties. Once he was within shouting distance from the truck, he hailed Brody, “Hey man! The keys are under the visor. Get in the fucking truck!” Brody nodded and started looking for a way down into the truck.

Mason and his sniper on the roof had dwindled the feeders down to about three or four, but when he looked to his left, down A1A (the only main road) he saw hundreds more coming towards them. All this gunfire must’ve rattled these bastards to come get us, Mason thought.  “Brody, we’ve gotta move. They are coming in force now!” Mason shouted, as Brody looked in horror at the army of feeders coming towards them.

It was Pualani who reacted when she grabbed Brody’s ball-peen hammer and smashed in the driver’s side window as she leaned off the roof rack. She cleared the shards away quickly before she threw her dog, wrapped like sausage in the messenger bag, through the window and into the back seat. Brody smiled goofily as he lowered her down into the truck. “Hand me the gear, and get your little redneck ass in here!” she shouted as she ripped down the visor, fumbling for the keys.

Mason had made it to the truck and rammed his bayonet through the open, gaping mouth of the last feeder standing as he heard the truck turn over and start to peel out.  Mason leaped onto the running board and held onto the roof rack, for dear life, as Pualani peeled out like a bat outta hell.

She drove straight at the pub, which was only across the street, when they noticed a rope ladder being lowered down to them. She changed direction and headed straight towards the back of the building where the ladder was.

The truck slammed into the pub, jarring everyone and sending Mason flying halfway across the parking lot. “Oops, sorry about that,” was all you could hear as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to shimmy up the ladder, with Cujo’s little face sticking out and barking.

Mason collected himself and ran to grab his weapons, when he saw the massive horde of feeders almost upon him. He slung his AK and picked up his ax and ran like hell towards the ladder. Brody had just finished handing up the remainder of the weapons and was hanging off the ladder firing his 12 gauge into the angry mob of feeders. “Cmon Mason, Run Mother Fucker Run!” he was screaming.

Mason was almost at the truck when he noticed the front of it had smashed through the side of the pub. He leaped like a cat up the rear of the Land Rover and scaled the rope ladder easily, rolling onto the roof like a man possessed. He closed his eyes for a second to catch his breath, and when he opened them he saw an outstretched hand offering to help him up.

“Nice moves; you sure are one lucky son of a bitch. I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” the man said, with a smile.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’ve no doubt we’d all be dead by now,” Mason said as he shook the man’s hand.

I just hope you’d have done the same for us,” he said, shaking Mason’s hand. “My name is Cap’n Tony and this is my son, Kalen.”

“Right on, my name is Mason, and this is Brody, Pualani and her dog, Cujo.”

The introductions were stopped short as the whole building shook from the force of the several hundred feeders that had  just slammed into the front and sides of the pub.

****

“Well, this sucks,” Brody said as he fired from the roof into the face of a co-worker he recognized from his previous life. “That guy was always a dick to me; I guess that’s some form of fucked up karma.” He grinned as he looked back at the group.

“Save your ammo, man, we are not directly threatened,” Mason said as he surveyed their latest predicament.

“It’s like surfing, they come in waves and then there’s a lull,” Kalen said. “If we lay low, they’ll leave.”

“I hope you’re right, cause there’s a shit ton of those ugly bastards down there waiting to eat us. Just like they did to Barry,” Pualani said.

“Kalen’s right, they come in waves. I think all of that gunfire kinda rang the dinner bell for them,” Tony said as he lit a cigarette.

“Are we safe up here?” Pualani asked as she was petting Cujo, who was comfortably numb, resting in her arms.

“Safer than being down there,” Kalen said as he pointed to the crippled feeder that was being eaten by his comrades in death.

“So, Tony, talk to me man. How did you get up here? What does it look like inside the pub?” Mason asked.

“Well, we got here about three days ago. We came to pick up my wife and daughters across the street,” Tony said, dejectedly, as he flicked his cigarette off the roof.

“They didn’t make it, and we don’t want to talk about it,” Kalen interjected as he used his teeth to open a bottle of Guinness.

“It was relatively quiet when we got here, just a bartender and a couple of drunks that had been turned into these fucking gross monsters. We put them down and had started to stock up on supplies, when they started pouring in the door. We made it up here to the roof, through that door,” Tony said as he pointed to the only access point on the roof, which was locked and barricaded.

“Yupper, ain't none of those fuckers getting through that door,” Kalen chimed in.

“That’s right, and unless they can fly or learn how to climb, we’ll be ok up here for a while,” Tony agreed.

“Cool, but we’ll run out of supplies if we stay up here for too long,” Mason said, taking a visual account of what Tony and Kalen had gathered on the roof. He noted about two cases of Guinness, an M40 sniper rifle and an ammo can.

“Just managed to get the essentials I see,” Mason said as he picked up a bottle of Guinness. “May I?”

“Sure,” Tony said as he watched Brody cleaning and organizing their weapons.

“Looks like you guys are ready for world war three over here,” Tony said as he admired the bloody bayonet attached to Mason’s AK.

“Priorities, you know. Hey, was that your Land Rover we used to get over here?” Mason asked, talking to Tony.

“You mean the Land Rover you drove into the side of the bar? Yes, it’s mine, and I swear to fucking god, there better not be any major damage,”  Kalen interjected, just a little pissed off.

“Sorry, that was my bad,” Pualani said as she also cracked open a tasty bottle of Guinness.

“Relax, son, that truck can withstand anything. It’s made to drive through buildings, mountains and now feeders,”  Tony said as he put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna talk to my son privately for a second, I’ll be right back,” Tony said as he motioned to his son to follow him to the other side of the roof.

“No problem,” Mason said as he walked over to Brody and Pualani and leaned over to scratch Cujo’s belly.

“You guys alright?” Mason asked, genuinely concerned.

“Well, besides the fact that it’s my birthday, and I saw my boyfriend get shot in the head and eaten in front of me, I guess  I’m doin’ just fine,” she said, sardonically.

“Um… Happy birthday,” Mason and Brody said, in unison.

“Shut the fuck up, you guys,” she said, secretly wanting anyone to acknowledge that it was her birthday.

“Mason, what do you think about Cap’n Tony and Kalen? Do you trust them?” Brody asked.

“My gut says yes, and they did save our ass. The only way we’re going to get through this, is by sticking together. I’m pretty sure they’re having the same conversation about us right now.” Mason said as he looked over his shoulder and saw Kalen nodding his head, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

“What do you think, Brody?”  Mason asked.

“I don’t know what to think anymore, man. This is all just so fucked up. It’s like a bad dream, actually it’s like some twisted ass Stephen King shit. You’ve done right by me so far, whatever you think man, I’m with you.” Brody said as he finished reloading his shotgun, and started walking towards the beer.

“What about you, babe?” Mason asked, trying to be charming.

“Don’t call me babe, asshole,” she shot back.

“Wait a minute, let’s start over. Hi, my name is Mason, and did I do something to offend you in the short time that I’ve known you. If my memory serves me, I think all I’ve done since I met you is save your ass. So what is your fucking problem, already?” Mason said, not truly excited about opening this can of worms.

“I’ll tell you what my fucking problem is,” she said as she put her dog down and started poking her finger in Mason’s face. “You, you’re my fucking problem! Who do think you are, you almost got us all killed with all of your bullshit. You’re running around here like you are 'King Shit' and we have to do whatever you say. My boyfriend is dead because of you, and now I’m stuck on top of this fucking roof, covered in blood and bruises, on my birthday!” she yelled, waiting for a reply.

Mason just looked at her, dumbfounded, not saying a word, really wanting to tell her to shut up and then hit her or kiss her.

“Lover's quarrel?” Tony asked as he walked over with his son in tow.

Not yet, Mason thought, glad of the save. “She’s pissed because it’s her birthday and nobody bought her a pony,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Everyone started laughing, including Pualani, as Cap’n Tony said, “Do you guys get seasick? I have an idea.”

****

“Kalen, get on the bow, and be ready to toss the eye over the bollard!” Cap’n Tony yelled from the wheelhouse of his tugboat.

He was approaching the dock and pointing the bow of the tugboat at a shallow angle towards Cape Marina in Port Canaveral. When Cap’n Tony had the forward most cleat slightly upstream of the bollard, he expertly turned he rudder slightly away from the dock, allowing the current to push them sideways. As the tire fenders made contact with the pier, Kalen dropped the eye of the bowline over the bollard and tied it off to the cleat on deck. Cap’n Tony took the engine out of gear and let her drift backwards, to allow the stern to gently line up to the pier. Kalen walked aft and dropped the stern line over the bollard and secured the line to the stern cleat.

“You can still drive this Tug like a pro, dad,” Kalen said as he waited for his father to come down from the wheelhouse.

Tony walked down the bridge ladder carrying his rifle, and he tossed his son a .357 Magnum. “Take the pea-shooter and look alive, son, we are not safe here,”  Tony said as he scanned the deserted dock. “Can you see our Land Rover from here Kalen?” Tony asked.

“Yup, it’s right there, and the keys are in my pocket,” Kalen said, double checking the Smith & Wesson, making sure it was loaded.

“Ok, keep an eye out for trouble, I’m gonna top off the diesel and make sure we can get underway fast,” Tony said as he went to get fuel.

Kalen stood watch, thinking about his five sisters and mother that were out here in this chaos somewhere. God, we’ve got to find them, and I hope they’re still alive, he thought.

“Looks like there was a hell of a gunfight here,” Tony said as he ran his finger through the large caliber bullet holes in one of the dry, docked boats.

“Where are all of the people, or feeders at? This is downright fucking eerie?” Kalen asked, as they walked across the parking lot to the Land Rover.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, we have to get your mother and sisters, pick up some supplies, and we are getting the hell outta here,” Tony said as they got into the truck and headed out through the parking lot and onto Scallop Drive.

They drove the two or three miles to Garfield Ave, without incident, and observed the chaos and destruction everywhere. Houses were on fire, bloody heaps of half eaten limbs and bones littered the streets.

“Get off the main road and cut down to the Ridgewood Ave, we’ll come up the back way,” Tony said, as Kalen turned the truck sharply to the left.

Kalen pulled up to the small, one storey house, which was where his father, mother and five sisters lived. They parked the truck on the side of the road, locked the door and cautiously walked towards their home. The front door was wide open, and there was a ton of blood smeared on the door jam.

“Oh my god, no!” Tony shouted as he dropped his rifle and blindly ran into the house.

“Dad, wait!” Kalen shouted at his father as he took off, running into the house like a bat outta hell. Kalen picked up his father’s rifle and went into the house to see his father on his knees, sobbing.

Kalen reeled in horror as his worst fears materialized into reality, right in front of his eyes. Kalen and his father had bright red hair and so did all five of his sisters. So when they looked at the heap of bloody destruction, there was no mistaking who the victims were.

He counted five heads with ginger hair in various states of mutilation. He saw his youngest sister, Jenna, picked clean, she had no arms or legs left, just a torso with her head barely attached to her tiny little neck. Kalen scanned the room and the corpses; he recognized the remains of all of his sisters, but not his mother.

“Dad, get it together, we have to look for Mom. I don’t see her body; she could still be alive!”

And, as if he called her name, she appeared from the kitchen. This was Tony’s loving wife of twenty years and Kalen’s mother of twenty-two years, but this wasn’t her. She had been infected by the Annihilation virus and had probably slaughtered and eaten her own children. The thought that she could have done this terrified Tony and Kalen to no end.

“No, Rose. Please, god, no!” Tony begged as his dead wife slowly moved towards him. She was drooling blood and one of her eyeballs was hanging out of her socket. It looked as though she had chewed through her own arm, and now she was almost on top of Tony, who was still sobbing, on his knees, with his head in his hands.

Kalen nonchalantly walked towards his mother, intercepting her before she took his father away from him, and pulled the trigger of his .357 point blank at the side of her head. Her head exploded like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, and her large body flew through the air, landing on top of her five mangled daughters.

“Dad! Get up…Snap out of it! They’re all dead, DEAD!” Kalen shouted, in a half crazy rage, as he was dragging his father outside by the scruff of his neck.

“C’mon there’s a pub across the street. I need a drink, and I’m sure you do too,” Kalen said as he and his father opened the front door to Hogan’s pub.

****

Back on the roof, Cap’n Tony had unveiled his escape plan to the group. He told them about the existence of Camp Freedom. It was an island about five miles off the Eastern coast of Central Florida, completely surrounded by water on all sides, accessible only by air and sea. The idea behind settling the island, was that it was perfect for a defensible position, where they could keep safe from the feeders.

Cap’n Tony and Kalen had gone on a mission to retrieve the rest of their family, gather supplies, weapons and any other survivors that they could find willing to come along. He told the group about how they were using solar panels and windmills to harness energy, and convert that energy into batteries, and about how they were purifying water through distillation, and how they had fortified the island by creating a Greek style walled city.

He also told the group about the military coastal blockade that was ten miles off the coast. The Coast Guard and the Navy were shooting on sight any boat, airplane, swimmer or raft that crossed the Military Demarcation line or the Red Line, coming from the quarantined zone.

Tony related to the group the story of how a hundred or so survivors had left Camp Freedom, by way of makeshift rafts built from palm trees. Once they had crossed the Red Line, they were obliterated by naval gunfire. No one survived. The residents of Camp Freedom watched in horror as they saw the sky light up with the explosions from the 5 inch naval guns. They could clearly see the refugees as they were blown apart, their limbs and splintered rafts littering the Red Line. It wasn’t long afterwards that sharks came and devoured what was left of the foolhardy runaways.

“There was an uneasy truce with the Government, and a general understanding that if we don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with us. We were on our own, and we had to take care of each other,” Tony had heard reports that over ninety percent of the population of Florida were either dead, or worse, they were infected and turned into a slimy disgusting feeder.

There were laws at the camp, and everyone was expected to pitch in, whether it was security, energy harnessing, construction, cooking, childcare or raiding the coast for supplies and more survivors. Camp Freedom had zero tolerance for crime, dissension or those who were infected. There was no incarceration or jail on the island, if you broke the law there were only two penalties, banishment or death.

Camp Freedom was founded by a retired Admiral from St. Augustine, Florida. He managed to get most of his family out after the Annihilation epidemic ravaged through the state. Throughout his illustrious career in the Navy, he had made note of a small island off the coast of Central Florida, and chose to set up Camp Freedom there.  He evacuated what was left of his family on his personal yacht, built an infrastructure on the island and began hunting for survivors and supplies.

“He is known as Admiral, and he is a fair but firm man. He rules Camp Freedom with an iron fist, and he doesn’t take criticism well. He is a brave and strong man, and almost single-handedly built the entire camp and has kept over two hundred souls safe since the epidemic began.”

“Well, Camp Freedom it is then,” Mason said as he looked at Brody and Pualani. “I’ve got one stipulation—nobody gets left behind. No matter what, agreed?” Mason stared at the group, solemnly.

Everyone nodded their head, and they quickly realized that they were becoming a family.

“Are there any girls on this island?” Brody asked, “The last few days have been a real sausage fest around here.”

“Yea, there’s a few, but they’re all a bunch of fucking cows,” Kalen said, smiling.

“That’s ok. My dick doesn’t have eyes,” Brody said, licking his lips.

“Ugh… You’re a nasty little redneck fucker,” Pualani said as she playfully punched him in the shoulder.  “Sounds like a plan; Cujo and I will be going,” she said, relieved that there might actually be some kind of hope.

“Hey guys, look!” Mason said as he walked to the edge of the roof and pointed down. The bulk of the feeders had left, there were only a few stragglers remaining. “We need to make our move outta here,” Mason said as he looked at Cap’n Tony.

“This is good. We can take those feeders out easily and make it to the Tug,” Tony said as he looked at his wristwatch. “We need to wait until dawn, we have about three hours, and then we’ll go.” Then he said to the group, “Kalen, take the first roof watch, and everyone else get some rest, we‘re in for a crazy day tomorrow.”

Dawn came quickly, and the rotten putrid smell of death permeated the air. Mason and Brody stealthily shimmied down the rope ladder, armed with only an ax and a hammer. The plan was simple, Mason and Brody would quietly dispatch of any feeders blocking their escape, while the rest of the group would load the Land Rover with the remaining weapons and supplies. After they were on the road, they would make a quick stop at Beach Pawn, to rummage for more weapons, ammo and any other supplies they could find, before heading to the tugboat and getting underway to Camp Freedom.

“Heads up,” Mason whispered to Brody as they came around to the front of the pub. There were about five feeders mindlessly meandering around the parking lot. Mason signaled to Brody to stay low and pointed at two feeders that he wanted him to terminate. Brody nodded in silent acquiescence as he moved forward slyly.

Mason signaled the rooftop party to start moving down the equipment to the truck as he advanced behind three feeders with his ax raised high. Mason saw Brody mercilessly slaughter his targets with ease. This kid is a natural born killer, he thought, as he saw the deadly precision of his ball-peen hammer cave in both of the feeders heads, with one stroke apiece to the temple.

As Mason crept up inches behind the first of his three feeders, he swung the ax over his head in a circular motion, decapitating his first target from behind. The foul monster’s head came clean off and rolled, like a bowling ball, into the next feeder’s shin. The second feeder, now alerted to his presence, picked up the decapitated head of his comrade and took a bite out of his cheek.

Mason fought hard to control the bile rising in the back of his throat, he had a strong stomach, but this was almost too much even for him to witness. As he moved in to put an unholy end to this vile piece of shit, he recognized the feeder as one of the bastards that had bitten and infected his former friend, Irish Barry.

Mason tossed his ax into his left hand and started to jog towards the feeder. It looked as if he were in a bowling alley and he was totally focused on bowling a strike, only it was an upturned ax in his hand.

He covered the ten foot distance, like a mountain lion advancing on her prey, and, with vicious precision, he brought his Estwing Camper’s ax up between the feeder’s legs and into its groin. Using his momentum and torque, he split this infected creature in half, from dick to chin.

Brody watched in morbid fascination after he efficiently pulverized the last feeder’s head. It was a violent and gruesome mutilation that Mason was completing, but his ax was stuck in its rib cage. Brody watched in horror as Mason was stomping on the neutered feeder's face and limbs, desperately trying to yank his ax free. After a massive heave, Mason was able to free his ax and sent bits of the monster's shattered ribs soaring through the air.

“C’mon boys, let’s go!” Cap’n Tony shouted from the Land Rover as they were all loaded up and ready to go.

“This was for Barry,” Mason said, darkly, to the mangled corpse lying at his feet. He took one last look and spat on it as he turned to jog to the truck.

Mason and Brody jumped onto the running boards of the truck as he noticed that Pualani was driving. “Hey, try not to run into the building this time,” Mason said, playfully.

“Get fucked!” Pualani said as she was shakily driving the two blocks to Beach Pawn.

If we get through this alive, I just might. Mason thought to himself.

****

The group pulled into the parking lot of the pawn store, and Cap’n Tony jumped out and issued quick commands. “Pualani, stay in the truck and keep it running. Brody, Kalen, stay out here and watch our backs. Mason, you’re with me.”

They opened the door, and there was an eerie quiet about this place Mason thought, deep down in the pit of his stomach.

“Mason, clear the left side of the store, I’ll take the right. Use your ax; we don’t need any unwanted noise. I’ve already seen that you’re pretty handy with it.” Tony said, with a smirk.

Mason nodded his head and methodically started to clear the aisles one by one. He didn’t see any feeders, but what he found rivaled a pot of gold. “Cap’n, come here, you’re gonna wanna see this,” Mason shouted from across the store.

“Yea, one second,” Tony shouted back as he watched the feeder amble out of the back room towards him. This must have been the owner or manager. What a waste of a pretty woman, Tony thought.  She smelled like the aftermath of a million uncleaned port-o-potties, and she was still wearing hooker shoes  and a revealing and sexy outfit.

Tony covered his nose and mouth as he scanned for a weapon, he saw a Martin guitar hanging on the wall, and he quickly snatched it by the neck and slammed the body of the solid top instrument into her face. Her head quickly snapped back, and she collapsed, smashing through the front display counter, making a loud crash.

“Tony, what the fuck… Are you all right?” Mason yelled from across the store.

“No, I’m definitely not all right,” Tony mumbled to himself as he made his way towards Mason.

“Holy shit,” was all Tony could say when he laid eyes on the .50 caliber M2 machine gun. She was a work of art, they both thought as they stared in silence at this powerful weapon of mass destruction. There was a mount and several ammo cans full of explosive rounds.

“This is essentially an auto cannon, we can mount it to the deck of the tug,” Mason said, smiling and genuinely happy.

“Oh yea, this is a fantastic find, we can…” Tony trailed off as bursts of gunfire erupted outside.

“Dad, Mason, we gotta go! There is a shit load of them coming,” Kalen said as he opened the door to the pawn store.

Tony grabbed the auto cannon and motioned to Mason to carry out the ammo. When they got outside it was a full on battle, it looked like a war zone. There were feeders everywhere coming from all sides, and moving in on them fast.

“Brody, fall back to the truck,” Mason shouted at him as he was recklessly firing into the crowd of feeders with the AK. “Pualani, let’s go! Why are we not moving?” Mason screamed at her.

“What in the goddamn hell do want me to do Mason?” she shouted back, evenly. There were a dozen feeders encircling the truck and blocking their escape route.

“Drive this mother fucking truck through them!” Mason roared, a little more aggressively than he meant to.

Pualani closed her eyes and put her foot down on the gas, peeling the tires and launching the Land Rover into the cluster of feeders that were encircling Brody. The truck served its purpose well, crunching through the infected like a Sherman Tank.

“Need a ride?” Mason said as they pulled up next to Brody.

“Hell yeah! Get me the fuck outta here,” he replied, jumping onto the running boards and holding on for dear life as Pualani drove through the feeders like she was navigating through an asteroid field.

“I can’t believe the damage you caused to my truck,” Kalen said, dejectedly, as they pulled away from the cluster of feeders, which had almost ended them.

“This truck is the least of your worries, son. We’re together and we’re alive, and now we have this,” Tony said as he held up the M2 machine gun to show his son.

“Whoa…Yea baby,” Kalen said as he inspected their new weapon of mass destruction.

They arrived back at the Marina with two flat tires, an engine that was dangerously overheating and, as they turned the corner into the parking lot, the Land Rover came to a shuddering halt.  There was a moment of total silence as the group sat in the broken blood-stained truck, and gathered their wits.

“We’re on foot from here, let’s gather all of the weapons, ammo and supplies and get the hell outta here.” Cap’n Tony was the first to break the silence.

As the group gathered and distributed the equipment, they started walking towards the Tugboat and found it as they had left it.  The Marina was devastated; there had been an obvious last stand here. Yachts were sunk, shell casings littered the ground under their feet, and the ripe smell of death was in the air.

“No sight of feeders, so far so good…” Brody said, relieved after his latest brush with a terrible fate.

“That can always change in an instant,” Kalen said as they walked onto the dock where the tug was moored.

Cap’n Tony hopped over the gunwale of the Tugboat and, back in his element as a captain, gave his orders. “Brody, Kalen, you’re with me on the boat. Mason keep watch on the dock until we’re ready to get underway.”

Kalen and Brody eagerly joined the Cap’n on his boat, while Mason walked up to Pualani and sat down beside her on the dock.

“You look like hell,” he said as he put his arm around her.

“Thanks, you always know the right things to say, don’t you?” she said, smiling back at him.

“How’s the dog doing? He must be traumatized by now,” Mason said as he watched Cujo sniffing around everything on the pier.

“He’s fine, I’m sure he’s happy to be out of this bag and able to run around a little.” Pualani said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few strips of beef jerky that sent Cujo into an absolute frenzy of delight.

“I love this dog so much, and I don’t know what I’d do without him, or you.” She said as she put her arms around Mason’s waist.  “I know I’ve been a little bitchy to you, but I just really wanted to say thank you. I think that ah... If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be dead by now. I guess… I uh... just want to….” She said, fumbling for the right words, when Mason delicately brushed his fingers up the side of her cheek and into her long beautiful hair as he leaned over and kissed her passionately.

Pualani fiercely returned Mason’s kiss, briefly, and then placed her cheek against his chest and mumbled, “Just hold me for a second, please.”

It was a long precious moment that they spent, holding each other, as the bustle from the tugboat was drowned out by the waves smoothly rocking the pier. It was a bond that they had formed by overcoming adversity together, killing feeders together, surviving through this apocalypse together.

Cujo’s unmistakable yap brought them back to their present situation.  He had disappeared from sight and was around the corner, barking like a champ.

“I’d better go get him before he brings those fucking feeders on us.” Pualani said as she got up quickly.

“Yea, I’ll go with you, I think they’re almost ready to get the boat underway.” Mason said as he trailed behind her.

Mason felt a sharp pain in his back as he rounded the corner; he instantly dropped to his knees, putting the back of his hand on the small of his back. “Ugh...What the fuck?” he said as he looked up to see two men standing in front of him.

They looked like hell, but they weren’t infected, Mason thought, as he got a glimpse of the first man. He was in his forties with an enormous gut and broken black teeth. He was smiling at Mason and holding the rifle that he had slammed into Mason’s lower back as he walked around the corner. The other man looked much younger and had his arm around Pualani’s waist, and his hand was covering her mouth.

“What are you doing?... Let her go. I swear to fucking god if you…” Mason’s tirade was cut short as the fat man kicked him squarely in the face, knocking the back of his head against the concrete, immobilizing him.

Mason was lying in the parking lot of the Marina, he felt dizzy and the back of his head was oozing blood. He heard voices as if they were from a dream.

“C’mon bring this bitch to the boat. She looks like she needs a real man.”

“What about the others?”

“I don’t think they’ve seen us yet, and there are too many. All we need is her. She’s a nice piece of ass, and I haven’t fucked anything in a long time.”

“What about this asshole?”

“What about him?” The fat man said as he took the butt of his rifle and slammed it into Mason’s face.

Mason opened his eyes and felt a throbbing pain in his head, worse than any hangover he’d ever had.  “Pualani?” he said, faintly.

“I’m so sorry, brother, but she’s gone,” Brody said, sadly.

“Gone? What does that mean? She’s dead?”  Mason asked as his eyes began to focus on Brody, Kalen and Cap’n Tony staring down at him.

“I don’t think she’s dead, Mason, but she’s been taken, we saw the speedboat take off and found you on the pier. You’re pretty banged up, kid, you need to rest. We can talk about this later,” Cap’n Tony said, seriously.

“No, fuck later. Talk now,” Mason said as he made a feeble attempt at sitting up.

“Jesus Christ, Mason, relax, you’re going to hurt yourself more,” Kalen said as he knelt down next to him. “I recognized the men in the speed boat; they were pirates. It looked like Billy Boy and Vinnie the Guinea. They’ve been a plague to our Camp.”

“Wait, what?... Did you say Pirates? She’s been taken by Pirates; there are Pirates?” Mason asked, inquisitively, as if this was some kind of a joke.

“Yes, Feeders aren’t the only threat out here. We are in a different world now, and it’s everyone for themselves. That’s why it’s so crucial that we stick together and build a community of like-minded good and honest people,” Kalen said, withholding the fact that these Pirates were bottom feeders, and that Pualani was probably being abused and gang raped as they spoke.

“I made a promise… We all made a promise… No one gets left behind… No one gets left…” Mason said, weakly, as he closed his eyes and drifted off into total darkness.

“I know, Mason, and you have my word. When we get to Camp Freedom and you heal, we’ll scour this coast relentlessly until we find her,” Cap’n Tony said as he gently laid Mason’s head back on the main deck, and walked aft to look over the stern of the tugboat.

****

Copyright © 2013 by Griffin Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Episode 2

Episode 2 picks up where Pualani has been kidnapped by pirates, and America has fallen to the Annihilation infection. Our enemies have risen up in the Middle East, and formed the League of Islam. They believe this zombie like plague is a sign from the prophet Mohammed to colonize the world, and punishment for being an Infidel.

Join Mason and his group as they discover Camp Freedom, hunt the pirates that are in cahoots with the League of Islam, and try to rescue his companions, kill feeders, and all without getting infected or captured.

You'll be in for a sick, twisted adrenaline rush throughout this whole story.

Now available on Amazon here.

Season 1 (All five Episodes)

Run like hell...

The United States as we know it has just collapsed. It all started after the release of "Annihilation", a synthetic designer drug that was marketed as a perfectly legal high. This drug turned its unsuspecting users into "feeders." (It causes imminent death and then re-animation into a zombie like state.)

Our enemies around the world have witnessed the destruction. They have risen up in the Middle East, and formed the League of Islam. They believe this zombie like plague is a sign from the prophet Mohammed to colonize the world. And those infected are being punished by Allah for being an Infidel.

This Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian series of episodes, follows the adventures of Mason Briggs, and a group of survivors that he meets and loses along the way. Join Mason and his group as they discover Camp Freedom, kill feeders, hunt pirates, rescue his companions, and fight the invasion of the League of Islam. All without getting killed, infected or captured.

You'll be in for a sick, twisted adrenaline rush throughout this whole series.

Now available on Amazon here.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Griffin Smith was born in New England, and is the misbegotten son of an accountant and a rock and roll singer. He's a traveler, writer, editor and has spent most of his life on the road and on the ocean. After being honorably discharged from the Navy in 2006, he has settled down in Cape Canaveral, Florida. He writes full time, and enjoys a wonderful life with his wife Lani and their Boston Terrier Lola.

Connect with Me Online:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GSwriting

Website: http://gswriting.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/TheRiseofChaos

Table of Contents

Prologue

Rise of Chaos (Annihilation)

Copyright

Excerpt

ABOUT THE AUTHOR