Excerpt
“Get those damn charges set, and let’s get out of here,” I growled into my mic. Shadows moved around me, and a turbaned face appeared out of the murky darkness. I shot the onrushing insurgent twice and looked around for more.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered. “We’re past time for evac. Move your slow asses!” Lt. Rodriquez was suddenly at my side, scowling. “We’re doing the best we can, Corporal. Hold on to your hat.”
“Charges set, Lieutenant,” Stevens called out. “That makes all four; we can blow this popsicle stand!”
“About damn time,” I snapped. “There are hostiles everywhere. What the hell is this place, anyway?”
McGavin scoffed. “It’s a temple, Brooks. Remember? We had a briefing and everything.”
“Screw you,” I told him. “This ain’t like no temple that I’ve ever seen. And it smells like a fucking crypt.”
“No lie,” my buddy, Lance Corporal Jeremy Stevens, chimed in.
“Marines,” Rodriquez barked. “Let’s go.”
I led us back out, the six of us in tight formation. Stevens was on my left flank; Sgt. Bates was on my right, and the Lieutenant was in the middle with the beady-eyed “guide” that the Colonel had stuck us with. McGavin brought up the rear.
Dead bodies were everywhere; our ingress had come with a high body count. I ignored them.
Two tours had made me immune to corpses. I had bigger priorities.
There was a commotion in front of us; heard but not seen. Voices cried out in excitement. We froze.
Our position was suddenly hit with massive spotlights. “We’ve been cut off! Break left!” Rodriquez yelled as gunfire erupted all around us. We returned fire, hot and heavy.
Being in front has its disadvantages. I got hit three times, twice in the chest and once in the leg.
My vest took the brunt of the two to the chest, but the leg shot really sucked. I went down but staggered back to my feet and kept fighting.
Stevens took over point; Lt. Rodriquez slid over to his spot and put me in the middle with the guide, who looked scared out of his mind. I didn’t blame him.
We raced through the gloom, moving downhill but not having a choice in the matter. McGavin took a round to the lower back and went down. I shouted, and the unit took up positions around our fallen comrade.
We created a semi-circle facing back the way we’d come, weapons up and ready. There wasn’t long to wait. The horde was on us quickly, the heavy sound of their AK-47s threatening to overwhelm the sharper cracks of our M-4s.
It was over in less than sixty seconds, and to my amazement, we were still standing. There were bodies all around us, and the air was thick with the smell of cordite. Clouds of smoke from the gunfire obscured our lights even further.
It was like being in hell, I thought, sweeping the area with my carbine. Something flashed in my light, and I swung back.
There was a figure standing at the edge of the light. It couldn’t be a friendly, so I shot at it. I missed, and it ducked behind a pile of bodies. The Lieutenant motioned, and Stevens and I went out to get whoever it was.
I’d taken maybe three steps when the figure reappeared, much closer. I could tell it was a man, head and neck wrapped in a shemagh. One arm was holding a bundle, and the other was outstretched toward the ceiling.
His eyes were glowing red. I blinked. His eyes really were glowing; it wasn’t goggles or an optical illusion. Glowing or not, I knew what my job was. I put that head with glowing eyes in my sights and prepared to pull the trigger.
Our guide, who’d been useless and paranoid the entire mission, started screaming and babbling in complete gibberish. The only part that I could make out was something about Manziel or manzazu or some such nonsense, but his outburst caught me off guard, and I missed my shot.
Suddenly there was movement all around us. The bodies of the enemy combatants were stirring. Impossibly, they were staggering to their feet. All around us, corpses were rising from the floor, their eyes shining a baleful crimson.
“What the fuck?” Stevens shouted. “This ain’t happening, man.”
I put a three-round burst into the chest of the corpse nearest me and blew out his heart. It didn’t seem to affect him at all; he just kept shuffling toward me, his arms reaching out. I shot him again, this time doing the Mozambique technique that had been drilled into all Marines. The two shots to the body didn’t do anything, but the follow-up round to the head dropped it.
I could hear my unit screaming, cursing, and shooting the reanimated dead bodies all around me.
They were coming at us from every direction.
We tightened our circle, trying to cover each other as we changed mags and shifted targets. It didn’t matter; they overwhelmed us. There were just too many of them, and we couldn’t put them down fast enough.
I watched in horror as my best friend, Jeremy Stevens, was pulled down by a mob of freaking zombies and torn apart. Behind me, Lt. Rodriquez screamed, and then his voice trailed off into a muffled gurgle, and I knew he was gone, too.
My mag ran dry, and I reached for another, determined to keep fighting. My fingers closed on air. I was out. The undead pressed in, their hands clawing for me. I swung the empty rifle like a club, trying to clear a space.
The undead mob pulled the rifle from my hands, so I drew my Colt 1911 handgun. It was a fine weapon, and I was good with it, but it only held eight rounds. Those eight rounds went quickly.
When the pistol was empty, all sounds of gunfire ceased.
I was the last of the unit standing. The zombies surrounded me. To my right, two of the obscene things were eating my Sergeant. Behind them, more were tearing our guide to pieces.
I spun to my left and saw what was left of Stevens. Hands fastened onto my vest, and I twisted away. More grabbed hold of my legs, and I went down.
The zombies crowded around me. Behind them, looking on, was the man with the glowing eyes, triumph on his face. He cackled with glee.
In desperation, I felt around for anything to use as a weapon. My hands reached above my head and found the remains of the Lieutenant. His head had been ripped off. My hands shifted lower and found the detonator on his belt for the explosive packages that we’d set.
I yanked it free and held it up. The zombies were all over me, and their leader was looking down at me, sneering.
“Fuck you,” I screamed and pushed the button. There was a distant rumble, a pressure wave, and then the world collapsed on me.
Author Info
The Book Junkie Reads . . .Reckless Dreams Interview with . . . Samurai Dan Coglan ...
How would you describe you style of writing to someone that has never read your work?
For the series that I am currently working on, the Deathstalker Chronicles, I would tell people that I write in first person sarcastic. I try to let Brooks tell the story in his own way, which as a Marine is not flowery prose but at the same time isn’t knuckle-dragging stupid, either. He has a sense of humor, which shows through at sometimes the wrong times and situations, despite the seriousness of what he’s up against.
Do you feel that writing is an ingrained process or just something that flows naturally for you?
Writing to me is like anything endeavor that people undertake, whether it’s sports or sewing or martial arts, which is my background. There must be a part of it that is natural and flows from the person, that is nurtured and enhanced by training. Training by itself can’t make someone truly exceptional at something that they have no aptitude for, but training can and does make someone with aptitude BETTER at what they do. This is why writers go to retreats, and seminars, and study; they are enhancing their natural abilities to become better storytellers.
What mindset or routine do you feel the need to set when preparing to write (in general whether you are working on a project or just free writing)?
I wish that I could say that I can just take a deep breath, let it out, and then sit down and type away and create good content, but I can’t. Writing is still a creative process, not merely a reflex action, and thus, I have to set the tone, or mood. For the majority of my writing, when the weather is cooperative, I go for a half hour motorcycle ride, and try to empty my mind. Not blank out, and not pay attention to the road, mind you, but simply let all the distractions and voices clamoring in my brain go quiet. When things are still and peaceful, like a Zen garden in my soul, the story comes out.
Do you take your character prep to heart? Do you nurture the growth of each character all the way through to the page? Do you people watch to help with development? Or do you build upon your character during story creation?
I am a huge student of humanity. I delight in watching people. It’s the only good reason to go the mall, other than Sarku (Japanese restaurant at our mall). When I’m working on a project I will just sit for hours in public places, and watch people, studying how they move, how they interact, and how they behave when they’re alone versus with a group. I get wonderful ideas on characters from that, and then once they’re in the story, they continue to grow and evolve, just as “real” people do.
Do you have a character that you have been working on for a long time that still isn't quite ready, but fills you with excitement to work on the story?
I have had the idea for a story that I’ve had in my head and in notes on my laptop, for almost ten years. The character is a tragic hero, as so many are, but the scope of the story is much bigger than I normally try to write or tell. In this case, it’s literally world-changing, which intimidates me to no end. I’m STILL not ready to write the story, believing that I’m not ready yet, and won’t be able to do the subject justice, but the idea of the story and the character are cool enough to keep me up at night, pacing around the house, and thinking about plot points!
Have you found yourself bonding with any particular character(s)? If so which one(s)?
This may be a weird thing, but the I WANT to bond with the characters that I create, since they are my creations, and the heroes of the stories that I’m telling, but I can’t! I mean, I form huge attachments to them, but I don’t end up identifying with them, the same way that I do with characters in a story told by someone else. It’s possible that this happens because the characters I create are frequently inspired by actual people that I know, and none of them are me!
Do you have a character that you have been working on that you can't wait to put to paper?
I have a character that was in book two of the Deathstalker Chronicles that will be back in season two, that I am ridiculously excited about, but it’s a very weird feeling to be impatient to “reintroduce” a character that hasn’t even appeared on print yet!
Can you share your next creative project(s)? If yes, can you give a few details?
I am currently working on the fourth Deathstalker Chronicles book, Hexed. In this story Brooks and his surviving friends are pitted against an evil coven of witches, who are practicing blood magic and need stopped. I have a number of friends who are involved in the more positive side of witchcraft, and they are helping me with the research.
I’m also re-working my first published novel, Fenris Firar, to be done professionally with my publisher, L’Oste Vineyard Press.
What are some of your writing/publishing goals for this year?
Our goal for 2021 is to NOT HAVE IT BE 2020! Like most people on the planet, 2020 was a horrible year, and we are working like mad to make 2021 the best year of our lives. I’m speaking not just for me and my wife, Jillian, but for the husband and wife publishing team at L’Oste Vineyard Press, John and Kate Peragine.
In terms of my work, I believe the goal is to get Invasion of the Undead out on May 28th, and then the sequel, Pack Problems, out in the late fall.
Have you ever felt that there was something inside of you that you couldn't control? If so what? If no what spurs you to reach for the unexperienced?
I have within me a serious snark, that finds ways to get out at the most inopportune times. I have a lively sense of humor, and while it comes in handy performing onstage, and doing comedy improve with different groups that I interact with, it causes problems in casual conversations and business meetings.
If you could have dinner/dinner party with 7 fictional character, who would they be?
If I could throw a dinner party and invite 7 fictional guests, I would pick a mix of movie, TV personalities, and book characters. Let’s see…
Corporal Hicks, from Aliens.
US Marshall Raylan Givens, from Justified.
Hawkeye Pierce, from MASH.
Repairman Jack, from The Tomb, by F. Paul Wilson.
Aragorn, from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.
Sherlock Holmes, from Arthur Conan Doyle.
Erin, from the movie You’re Next.
If you could spend one-week with 5 fictional character, who would they be and where would you spend that time?
If I could spend a week with 5 fictional characters, I’d probably choose to go train on tactical courses with the characters from NBC’s SEAL Team, led by Master Chief Jason Hayes (David Boreanaz).
Where would you spend one full year, if you could go ANYWhere, money is not a concern? What would you do with this time?
If I could spend an entire year, to indulge myself, with no responsibilities or ties to the world at all, I’d probably go insane! I’d have to divide the year up into various trips, because the world is such a huge, beautiful place, with so much to see and experience, both the natural and the man made. Since I love to travel, being able to go anywhere to see whatever struck my fancy would be amazing! I love having my acreage to retreat to, but being on the road is my happy place.
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Thank you for hosting Dan's Book on his blog tour!
ReplyDeleteI second what John said! Thank you SOOOO much for including my book. By the way...that's an impressive (and intimidating) amount of books on your bookshelf; very cool!
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