Lone Star Zombie: Battlefield Z post apocalyptic action thriller series by Chris Lowry

Author:Chris Lowry [Lowry, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Ozarks Media
Published: 2020-09-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter

If people will forget what you say, don't talk.

If they will forget what you do, skip it unless it's an absolute necessity. But if people will always remember how you make them feel, then concentrate one thousand percent on that.

Make them feel loved

Make them feel valued and wanted.

And if they have set themselves as an enemy, make them feel fear.

This man had set himself as my enemy and I wanted him to check under the bed and in the closet for me every night before he closed his eyes.

I just needed to figure out how to do it.

Looking at me, I'm scary enough.

It's the scars.

They're what do it.

But if I didn't have scars, I'd look like any other mid-level manager just struggling to survive in a zombie filled world.

The apocalypse made me ugly on the outside, or uglier than I was, I suppose, but still nothing to stay up hiding under the covers about.

I'm not a giant.

Not a red headed stranger or a big bad bat carrying bad ass strutting around talking about the size of my pecker.

I'm just a guy.

Someone who got lucky more than once. Someone who was alone, and scared and filled my off time between every other weekend visit with my kids doing cool things.

Like running.

And fighting.

Shooting.

Part of it was the job. My ex-Vice President in the company I worked for had been a Ranger in the Army.

My Executive Director had been with the Navy EOD.

All they talked about was being tough, full of rough stories and experiences. My youth had been spent much like theirs, but on the civilian side instead of military.

But it was the mindset we had in common, a sense of discipline, and end result focus.

Sure, I wasn't trained to shoot an M16 by a screaming DI, but I learned to shoot on a rifle range.

And nobody jumped out of airplanes after the Z apocalypse.

"You're going to die now," the big bad man breathed his cigar soaked breath across my face.

There were eight large vans lined up in a row, elegant script etched on the sides indicated which church they belonged too.

White. Black. Green. Yellow boxes on the back of a van chassis.

I liked them for the eleven seats behind the tinted windows.

More than enough room for who we had left.

When they caught me, I was glad I chose to go alone.

The others were camped in an empty house five miles away.

They were tucked in tight and holed up, hunkered down while I hunted alone.

"Easier for one man to move by himself," I told them.

Plus, I had a lot of practice at it.

Heading halfway across the country on a hunt for my two oldest gave me that.

I held out my rifle with two shells and tried to look meek and innocent.

There were two men, both looking well fed and ornery glaring at me from the back of the last van in the row.

I could see the open door to the church behind them, more shadows moving inside.

"You know what we do with horse thieves around here?"

I didn't point out I was considering grand theft, not horse thievery.

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