Thank you for visiting. I have been a fan of the zombie genre for some time now, enough that I decided to try my hand at serious writing. My first series, White Flag of the Dead, chronicles the experiences of a man who is trying to survive a plague of the infected dead, and keep his son alive as well. It is a story of desperation, survival, and hope. It is a story that reminds us the most important thing is not just being alive, but living. Hope you enjoy.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Duncan's Diary

I watched the smoke from the fire rise over the piles of rock and sand, and wondered if I had done the right thing.  Truth be known, I wouldn't mind having few zombies show up right now to take out a little aggression on.  I couldn't get that little finger out of my mind, wondering what that poor child's final moments must have been like. 
I stood with my back to the fire, watching the waters of the canal go by when Up, my companion who was very tall and whose name I could never remember, called out to me.
"Company.  Fire must have brought them."
"How many?" I checked the surrounding area but couldn't see anything.  The water was to my back, as were the boats, so we could make an easy run for it if we had to.  Even if we coldn't get the boats started, we could cut the mooring lines and drift away.
Down, the shorter of my companions who was shorter than I was, came trotting back from the trees.  He was holding his rifle loosely in his hands, but I was glad to see the safety was on since he was pointing the barrel at my nuts.
"Has to be at least twenty.  Oh, sorry." Down apologized as I pushed the barrel away from me.
"Well, that's not a surprise.  Did you find anything else in the woods?"  I checked my AR mag, and loosened my Glock in it's holster.
"There's a boat ramp by the road, and an access to the main highway there." Down pointed to the bridge down the way where assorted zombies were milling about, unusre of what the smoke was, or even how to get to it.  As I looked over, one of the zombies tumbled over the rail and disappeared into the waters of the canal.
"Good enough.  We'll use it later, I'm sure.  Whoops, incoming."  A zombie was making its way across the loading yard, focusing on the two of us.  Down moved off to the left, bringing his rifle up, but I waved him down.  A shot would be more trouble than it was worth at this point, and we had what we needed to know right now.  The best thing to do would be to retreat and come back with more people. 
As the Z stumbled towards me, I waited until it got close, then I kicked it in the chest, tumbling it through the burning walls of the shed.  The flames quickly engulfed it, and the intense kerosene flames made short work of it.  It did manage to regain its feet before the fire reached it's brain, but only for a second.
Its not your killer, little ones, but it will have to do. I thought as I watched the flames flare bright red for a second, then return to normal.
I waved over to Up and Down.  "Time to get out of here."
"Walking back?"
"Nah.  Let's take the boat." 
Little did I realize the small decisions were the ones that effected us the most.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A note from John

Okay, I tried it, and I have to say that it's just not working out for me.  Maybe it's me, maybe I'm just not balanced for it, maybe I'm just inept.  Whatever the case may be, I have to come out and finally admit that I am totally worthless when it comes to using a sword on zombies.  Duncan and I found some in a store and he actually knew what was a good brand and what wasn't, so we grabbed a couple becasue I was interested in being able to finish off a Z without having to shoot it.  Truth be known, I was kind of looking forward to to serious slaughter with a sword.  Who wouldn't? 
I was a bit iffy about it though, since we had in the past buried a few people who had tried to off zombies with swords.  But I was willing to try, so we took a few back to the lodge and started some training.
I will admit, I sucked.  I was using a Cold Steel Hand and a Half Sword, a big two handed cutter. I was off balance, I swung too hard, or I overextended and left myself exposed.  It just wasn't somthing I was comfortable with. 
On the other hand, I did try out a what Duncan called a mortuary hilt sword, and I liked that a lot better.  It was a straight-bladed, single edged sword that I basically could use like an axe.  Much better.  I was used to my trusty pickaxe, so this worked out pretty well.  Don't know as I would use it as a primary weapon, but it held promise.
Point to all this is, don't be afraid to try something new.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Charlie's Guide

Physical Fitness.
Once upon a time it was the fashion, everyone was climbing stairs to nowhere and running like gerbils on treadmills and other machines for their cardio.  Good for them. 
Then came the Upheaval.  All that cardio was absolutely useless when a dead bastard was pulling you in for a virus-ridden kiss. 
Who were the survivors?  The ones who actually managed to fight off the zombies were the ones who were stronger than your average person, someone who spent some time in the weight room, or someone who had a job that required a good amount of strength.  I'll be honest, there were a lot more laborer survivors out there than lawyers.  God is kind, occasionally.
So what does this mean for you? Should you find some weights and start a routine?  You'll be betting your ass on it, so what do you think?
Here's the math, as we have figured it out.  Your average zombie is not as strong as your average person.  But a bigger zombie will be stronger than a smaller person.  In that confrontation there will soon be another, smaller zombie.  The best estimation we've come up with is to assume the zombie's strength to be  half to two-thirds of what it would be if they were alive.  More muscular zombies mean greater strength, skinnier ones and children mean lesser strength.  We won't discuss tenacity here.
You upper body strength in this new world is more important than your lower.  Don't ignore your legs, but you don't need to go crazy.  Find a weight that makes you work for ten reps, no matter the exercise.  Then add an additional five pounds.  When you can lift that without too much difficulty, add an additional five pounds.  Your goals should be to be able to bench press your own weight or more, and curl half your weight on a bar.  You should be able to do fifty push-ups without difficulty, and be able to lift one half to three quarters of your weight over your head.
Now for zombie specific exercises, I would recommend finding a sack of some kind and filling it until it weighs one hundred to one hundred anf fifty pounds.  Practice grabbing that sack off the grounds and throwing it from you as far as possible.  Whatever technique you are comfortable with.  The further the better, but if you lose your footing, you lose.
Practice makes perfect, but strength defeats the Z.

Charlie out.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Duncan's Diary

The inside of the room was a disaster.  It looked like someone had holed up in the place, hoping the zombies would pass them by, or maybe they would be able to catch a ride down the canal.  Why they didn't take one of the tugs was beyond my understanding.  In any case, there were the identifiable remains of a man and woman, plus a couple of children corpses.  Bits of flesh were in every corner, along with scraps of clothing and some survival gear.  I didn't see any spent casings on the floor, so I guess this family was unarmed when they had been attacked.  Their meager belongings were still in the corner.  Some backpacks, a container of water, and a baby bag.
I looked around, but I didn't see any evidence of any babies.  I wasn't surprised, though.  A large zombie can completely eat an infant in twenty minutes. 
I wish I was kidding.
I took my kerosene bottle from my pack and squirted some on what was left of the family.  I sprayed some on the walls, the smell very powerful in the small room.
As I stepped back out of the room, I tossed a match in, igniting the fuel and starting the pyre. As I walked out of the shed, I walked around slowly.  Outside of one window, there was a bloodstained blanket on the ground.  I walked over and picked it up, and a small object fell out of it. 
I squatted down to pick it up, then stood back up quickly when I saw what it was.  Reaching down with the blanket, I picked up the severed infant's finger and tossed both into the shed, putting the remains of the family's baby with it's parents. 
The smoke from the burning shed spiraled lazily into the sky, and I watched the flames finish off the work of the zombies. 
I guess when the zombies attacked, the mother tried to save her child by getting it out of the shed, hoping it might stay quiet enough for the zombies to pass it by, praying another family might come along in time to save it.

I hate zombies.