Z-Burbia Box Set | Books 1-3 [The Asheville Trilogy] by Bible Jake

Author:Bible, Jake [Bible, Jake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Jake Bible
Published: 2021-06-16T04:00:00+00:00

THE SUN BEAMS DOWN on John as he kicks back in the deck chair, his feet up, and a cold beer in his hand. He hasn’t caught a thing all day, but the fact that he’s on leave and away from Fort Bragg for a few days makes up for that. He’s happy just to enjoy the gentle rocking of the small boat on the intercoastal waterway as he sips his beer and watches the swaying of the fishing pole locked in place. Gulls fly overhead, making strange, low noises, but again, John is just happy to be somewhere that isn’t overrun by Zs.

By Zs?

He sets his beer down and shields his eyes. Why would he think of Zs? He’s on leave, enjoying some much needed rest and relaxation. Zs aren’t his problem. Then more gulls fly overhead and the sounds coming from them chill John’s bones. Gulls don’t moan. They don’t hiss and snarl. And are they getting louder?

He starts to stand up, but the gentle rocking of the boat turns into some seriously rough rocking, and he falls back on his ass. Pain shoots out from his shoulder and he glances down, surprised at the blood blooming through his t-shirt.

What the fuck? Is there a storm coming? He crawls to the side of the boat and looks into the water. It is completely still and calm, not a wave. Yet the boat keeps rocking. He starts to look away then realizes the reflection in the water isn’t of his face. The face staring back at him is missing one eye and most of its nose. And it isn’t alone. More faces stare back at him, their mouths opening, timed with the sounds of the groans and hisses.

John scrambles back from the side, his hands frantically searching behind him for his pack and his cell phone. He has to call this in. Something is very wrong in the North Carolina outer banks. Crazy sounding gulls? Dead people looking at him from under the water? What the hell?

His hand finds his pack, but something finds his hand. He looks back over his shoulder as a shadow passes over him. Looking up, against the sun, he can barely make out the features of the person that has taken hold of his arm.

“What the hell is going on?” John shouts. “Who are you?”

The person leans forward and John wants to scream. The face that is pressing close to his doesn’t have any flesh; nothing holds its jaw on except for a couple strands of dry tendon. Its tongue is black and swollen, coated in wiggling maggots that squirm off of it and fall onto the boat’s deck. John finally does scream as he sees the thing’s eyes.

Eyes he has seen in the mirror every single day of his life.

Still screaming, John bolts awake, thrust back into the true nightmare of real life. Panicked, he looks around, realizing he’s still in the SUV, surrounded by Zs, with a shoulder that, while no longer literally on fire, fucking hurts like it.

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