The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire by Scottie Charles

The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire by Scottie Charles

Author:Scottie, Charles [Scottie, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2016-06-13T04:00:00+00:00


“Clever. Clever clever clever.” He was speaking aloud to no one in particular, and while the words were meant as an honest compliment, his hands were shaking with rage. That anger was making it increasingly difficult for him to work, and after another minute of sloppy progress he abandoned his current project with a howl of frustration. His gaze landed on his soiled coat and shoes, favorites of his that he had been unable to clean, and he screamed even louder.

One disappointment after another, and absolutely no pay-off or release. Feverishly, he began running his hands through his carefully managed hair, losing himself in his emotion.

I had found them, they were mine to deal with, but no. Orders. Orders were orders, and I have to obey. The longer he stewed on it, the more irregular his breathing became. Ragged inhales gave way to snarling exhales, and his outrage continued to escalate.

They took it from me. They stole my opportunity, my hunt, as if that were their right. As if I were a dog for them to command, content with the scraps they throw me and ever-eager to lap at their feet.

No. No no no. I am more than that, more than them, cowards hiding in their castle-cradle in the dark. Children playing in a world they couldn’t possibly fathom, couldn’t know nearly as intimately as I do. Worthless. Worms and wretches, the lot of them.

With no other outlet available to him, he had taken to pacing the rooftop that he called his home in a vain effort to relieve his ire. He was supposed to be watching for other survivors, cataloguing and observing their actions, but his spiteful nature refused. His masters didn’t let him play, so why should he continue to jump at their beck and call?

Memories roiled in the depths of his mind, his twitching fingers recalling the excitement he had felt. They were special, different, worthy. The soldiers had been all too willing to allow him safety in their number, so sickeningly happy to do “good work” for the people. He had felt a pang of joy, knowing that he would be removing their weakness from the world, and when the job was over he went to sleep knowing he had done well.

But the others had been different. He had screamed, begged, threatened, everything under the sun to get them to open their sweet shell to him, and they had ignored it all. Even when they knew he would likely be torn apart by hungry hands, they chose themselves, content to let the stranger at the threshold meet his fate.

He had felt such pride. They were beautiful, these new survivors. They knew what the world had become. They had seen the rules change, recognized what survival meant, and embraced it without pause. It had inspired him, and so he took his performance to a new level in their honor.

It hadn’t been easy. The undead were an indispensable tool for hunting, but they made for cumbersome puppets. Summoning



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