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.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Change in plans

Okay. I thought I knew what it was doing. I had three books outlined, places mapped, and a good head of steam. Just scrapped the entire thing because I wanted to try something different and suddenly the story FLOWED.
Guess I need to see where this road takes me. Ignore previous post cause that won't be happening.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Here we go.

Well, the time has come to look at new things.  I have been working on the foundation for a new series, and I think I have struck a note which has started the creative process once again.  The story will involve a agent of espionage, an intentional group bent on killing the world, and a little virus that does some very interesting things to people.
I was trying to figure how to end the series, but in a flash it came to me.  And I'll make you read it to figure it out.  True fans of WFOTD will be mildly blown away, but when I worked this one out, I had a hard time suppressing my evil chuckles.

I'll update soon,

I also have an unfinished project I'll post here if anyone is interested.

And yes, the crew of WFOTD will return.  I have to fill in the lost years, don't I?

Monday, October 21, 2013

Generation Dead 2 Update!

Done.  Assembling and Editing.  Should be off to the publisher by Wednesday.  Thanks for the patience.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013


This last part of the book has been kicking my butt. Thought I was done two weeks ago, but the story took a twist and now I'm a chapter further than I expected. The good news is there is more to the book. The better news is I have a better writing schedule now.
Bad news is my wife's grandfather passed away last week, so things took another turn. This has to be worst year ever. I will probably post a teaser chapter just as a way of apology.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Back on Track

Should have Generation Dead Volume 2 finished in about a week. Working on the last chapters now.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Rest in Peace

For those of you who have been patiently waiting for the next installment of the WFOTD series, I want to apologize for being so far behind.
In November, my mother completed her chemo treatments for breast cancer, and we thought all would be well. In February of this year, we discovered she had stage 4 lung and liver cancer. The breast cancer had metastasized and was very aggressive. In March, it was discovered that the cancer had travelled to her brain and spinal chord.
It was a rapid downhill spiral from there.
This morning, my mother passed away with my father by her side. I am grateful for the time I had with her and the time she had with my sons. She was my biggest fan, a friend, and confidant. She will  be missed every day.

Friday, June 21, 2013


Hey all.
Sorry if I haven't posted in a while, there's been some serious family difficulties going on. I'm still working on Gen Dead 2, making decent progress. I'm about 60% there, so bear with me.
Got a link to a bio on a new (to me) site, so check it out and comment as needed.


Thanks !


Monday, May 20, 2013

Tommy's Tips

I've talked about what to take, what's useful and what's not.  I've talked about things that you should have in your pack, and things you shouldn't.  One thing I've not talked about it what to have on your person at all times when moving in zombie territory.  This is not in your pack, it's attached to you.
A knife of at least four to six inches.  
A compass.
Matches (Wooden ones are very good, keep them in an old pill bottle to keep them dry)
A large bandana.  Very useful for a lot of things.
Your secondary firearm plus ammo. A rifle should be your primary
Some form of dry food
String or paracord, about twenty feet
One of those small ponchos.  Being wet sucks.

This stuff should be distributed evenly throughout your clothes, and you should practice getting things in and out until it is reflexive that you know where things are.  You should not pull out a granola bar when you wanted your spare magazine for your gun. Your gun won't work.  Ask Duncan.


Sunday, April 21, 2013

Good News!

Story went in a different direction than I intended, but I am much happier with it now. Working hard to get Gen Dead 2 finished before June. I will probably finish before then, since I am really anxious to get to the last fight scene.

Stay tuned!

Monday, April 8, 2013

A note from John

One of the things the Upheaval taught me was to communicate.  Since every day could be the last you see someone, make sure you don't leave anything unsaid.  Don't think you have an abundance of tomorrows, when today might be the last one.  Too many times we heard of friends dying and wish we had just one more minute to say what we needed to say.
Sometimes I take for granted that people know how I feel, and I have always been one to let my actions speak louder than words.  But words are a comfort, and if I'm on the back end of a defensive maneuver that sees me back to back with Charlie or Tommy or Duncan fighting for my life and theirs, you'd better believe I'm going to be grateful I've said what I needed to .

Don't wait.  The only questions you shoudl have going into that long sleep are what's on the other side.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Giving thanks...

Thought I had lost all progress on Generation Dead Book 2 when my laptop died.  Turns out I had saved 30% of it on a flash drive, which makes the loss only about 10%.  AND I found my notes on the book, so as soon as I sort out my life issues, I will be finishing two projects.
I have the ending worked out for Gen Dead 2, but I have to get there from where I am.  Should be a trip.

I think this will be the last line of the last book of all the books connected to White Flag of the Dead.:

"Hi, Ellie.  Did I keep my promise?"


Wednesday, February 27, 2013


John Talon is now on Facebook!  Find him and say hi!  He's kind of gloomy, but that can be understood.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Zombie Wars

Found this the other day, apparently I had started something a while ago.  Never took it any further, but I thought I'd share.

Chapter 1

            “Watch this.”
            The words were spoken innocently enough, with just a hint of eagerness and desire for approval.  Most people would put down what they were doing, lift their head from their activity, and pay attention to the proceedings.
            Tommy Carter heard those words and responded by making sure he had no loose items that might come away in an explosion, his weapon was secured and he had a tight grip on the rail he was leaning against.  He debated whether or not he should shift his feet to a wider stance, then considered the source of the statement.  Tommy opted to widen his feet.
            “What am I watching?” he asked Duncan Fries, the originator of the current dilemma.
            “I’m aiming for the fat guy down there.”  Duncan pointed at a large man wandering amid several others below the interstate bridge the two men currently occupied.  The bridge was a simple country road that crossed the highway, but the highway fence kept the group gathered below from getting up around the embankment and causing some serious headaches.
            Duncan brought his hand back and Tommy could see he was holding one of his throwing spikes.  It was a tube of steel about six inches long and roughly an inch in diameter, tapered to a sharp point at both ends.  Duncan had tried other throwing objects but these were the things he was most consistent with.  Over the course of the Zombie War the ability to kill a zombie silently had become a serious asset, and Duncan was becoming deadly with the little things.
            Holding the spike loosely in his hand, Duncan concentrated for a second, then brought his hand sharply forward.  The missile streaked towards its target and punched into the skull of the fat zombie Duncan had identified earlier.  The pointed end, backed up by the heavy steel, easily penetrated the head of the zombie.  The Z stood for a moment, then toppled over onto its back, half of the spike sticking out of its head like a horn.
            Duncan turned to Tommy and smiled.  “About thirty yards, I’d say.  Not bad.”
            Tommy looked over the rail at the prone zombie.  “How many more do you have?”
            Duncan looked puzzled.  “Seven.  Why?”
            “How many zombies are down there?”
            “Twenty four.  Where’s this going?”
            “How are you going to get the spike back?”
            “Oh.”  Duncan looked back over the rail and cursed quietly. ”Shit.”  The spikes were a bizarre find in a house that had all sorts of weird weapons.  Most of it was useless, mail-order crap, but these had performed well.  Duncan looked upset that he may have to leave his toy.
            “Well, how’s the other group?”  Tommy asked.
            Duncan looked out across the landscape and saw the car they had used to get to their current position.  The zombies that had surrounded it for the last twelve had finally gotten bored and moved on.
            “They’re gone.  Think it’s safe?”  Duncan asked, picking up his weapons.
            “Safer than it was.  Let’s get moving.” Tommy answered.
            “What about my spike?”
            “Fine, but you have to carry my bag.” Tommy said, pulling off his rifle.
            Tommy ordinarily would have just left the silly thing, but then he would have had to listen to Duncan complain about it for about a thousand miles, and considering they had at least two thousand to go, lightening the load was a good plan.  Duncan had left his rifle in the car, which didn’t help here.
            “Here we go.”  Tommy leaned over and sighted in the first zombie.  Firing nearly straight down was not as simple as it seemed, and it was easy to miss.  But since the distance wasn’t great, he was able to get killing shots on twenty of the milling zombies.  The other four had wandered under the bridge and were out of sight.
            Tommy walked over to the other side of the bridge and looked over.  He shook his head as the stubborn zombies didn’t immediately reveal themselves to get killed.
            “Heading down!” Duncan called as he slid down the embankment. 
            “Not yet!” Tommy called, but it was too late.  Duncan’s head disappeared from view.  Tommy frowned and shook his head.  Little shit left my bag on purpose. he thought.  He picked up the backpack and went down the hillside, watching as Duncan shot the last four zombies with his Glock.  Since Tommy had fired his rifle, quiet was no longer necessary, although looking down the highway, Tommy could see several dark shapes slowly making their way in this direction in response. Zombies were nothing if not predictable.
            Tommy ran towards the car while Duncan retrieved his spike.  He pulled a pair of channel-lock pliers from his bag and wrenched the steel from the dead zombie.  He wiped it off with the man’s shirt, then tucked it into a separate compartment in his backpack for sterilizing later.  Hard lessons had taught the survivors of the Upheaval that the virus could stay dangerous for forty-eight hours if left on an exposed surface.  After that it was harmless, but if someone touched the infected area, then touched either an open wound or their eyes, they had nearly a one-hundred-percent chance of getting infected. 
            Fire killed the virus immediately, so it was part of everyone’s gear to have some means of open flame to sanitize weapons used on the dead.  The good news was there was very little splatter when combating the undead, since their blood wasn’t flowing like a living person’s did.  Bullets to the head caused some mess, but not as much as a live human.
            Tommy Carter reached the car, and unlocked the doors.  Zombies typically couldn’t figure out how to open a door, but lately more and more of them were figuring it out, and sometimes they got lucky when it came to car doors.  It was better to lock up than have a ghoul leave all sorts of dead bits inside the car you want to drive away in.
            The two men stashed their gear and drove away, heading back to the outskirts of St. Cloud.  They had left their caravan to do some scouting, and had only a few hours left before the group would figure them lost and move on without them.  That was the standing rule in the Zombie War.  Always stay on the move, draw them out, kill them.
            The road was fairly clear this far north, as it was discovered that apart from the main cities, the infestation wasn’t as bad as other, more populated areas.  Tommy and Duncan headed back to their group, which was waiting for them near a lake just off the road by St. Joseph. 
            Six men and four women made up the personnel of the caravan, and they had been on the road for nearly four months.  The War had started in earnest when the first cold winds blew down from the north.  John Talon, the duly elected chief executive of the represented states, had declared unconditional war on the zombies to the unanimous support of the population.  One week of planning and the teams were off.  The goal was simple: kill zombies, find survivors, kill more zombies. 
            Tommy and Duncan were tasked with the Northern Campaign.  They were to take their team, head north, find as many survivors as possible, and spread the word of the new government.  Communication was spotty at best, but things were getting better and more and more communities were turning the power back on.  Major cities were still a problem, but they were handled best in the winter months.  John had made it clear that the teams were to try and find survivors, but serious exploration was forbidden.  Too many zombies still roamed the halls of the cities, and without serious firepower and manpower, they were going to stay that way for a while.  It was generally agreed upon that the cities would be uninhabitable in the near future, so unless there was a significant survivor population, cities were to be left to rot.  Duncan, in his enthusiasm, tried to burn down the cities that were useless, and managed to succeed with a couple, but it was chancy at best.
            Tommy hit the gas and sped down the road, figuring to be at the rendezvous point in about twenty minutes.  St. Joseph was a hard fight and the crew had decided to take a day and rest.  Tommy and Duncan had figured to scout ahead when they got surprised by about thirty zombies checking out their car after inspecting a farmhouse.  The zombies chased them down the road and the two men spent a good half day waiting for the curious dead to move away from their car.  The rest had treed them on the bridge and forced them to cool their heels outdoors for a bit.
            “Where do you think the survivors went?” Duncan asked as they moved along Minnesota’s County Highway 2.  He put a hand up to brace himself as Tommy swerved around a decent sized crack in the road.
            “Not really sure.” Tommy said.  “We had a mess of Z’s around Minneapolis and the surrounding cities, but I expected a whole lot more.  Minneapolis had what, three hundred thousand?”
            “Between Minneapolis and St. Paul, there was supposed to be over three million.”  Duncan said.  It was standard procedure to check the population of any town before going in just to see how outnumbered they were going to be.
            “And we didn’t see nearly that many.” Thank God, Tommy thought.
            “No, I figured at worst it was maybe fifty-thousand.” Duncan said reflectively. “Now that I think on it, the Twin Cities was easier to deal with than St. Cloud.”
            Tommy thought a minute, moving the car around an overturned bucket in the road.  “So that means there are a lot of wandering zombies out there, or a bunch of people just up and ran away.  Which way do you think our luck will hold?”  Tommy shot Duncan a sideways glance and got a snort in reply.
            “Based on experience, I’d say we’re screwed.”  Duncan said.  He narrowed his eyes.  “Those are our cars, we’re here.”
            Tommy slowed down as he approached the small group of vehicles.  There was a Ford F-150 which carried much of their gear, a Honda Pilot, a Range Rover, and a Jeep Liberty.  The truck and SUV’s were parked in roughly a square, leaving about four feet between each vehicle.  The idea was to use the SUV’s as shelter when no other option was available.  The space between the cars was a choke point to keep from getting swarmed, if it came to that, and it also served as an escape route.  In case of serious trouble, the vehicles had enough room to get away, and each was chosen because it was heavy enough to push through a crowd of zombies.

A note from John

I've sometimes wondered about the answers I give when people ask me why I do the things I do.  Typically I answer "It's what I do." or "Because I can."
Why do I do the things I do?  Why do I risk my neck for little to no reward?  Would I be happier just taking care of my own and the hell with the rest?  I started the ball rolling, now let the rest of  them take charge of keeping it on?
Maybe.  But I doubt it.
When I look at the second answer, it's probably the more honest of the two.  I do what I do because I can.  I am physically capable and mentally prepared to do battle against that which threatens me and which threatens you.  I have fought and killed and survived to make sure you do to.  I am capable of dealing with the threat therefore I have a duty to deal with it.
Charlie and I had this conversation on a regular basis.  He said the zombies brought out the true nature of ourselves.  If we were craven cowards under the surface, but never admitted it to ourselves or anyone else, the zombies sure as hell got us on the truth train.  Likewise, if we were calm under fire, and threw ourselves into harm's way to rescue our own, the zombies revealed that as well.
The bottom line is I am capable of making a difference, therefore I have a responsibility to do so.
The other answer is probably more simplistic.  I think, therefore I am.  I fight zombies, therefore I kill zombies.  It's just the job I happen to have at the moment.
Sarah says its the answer I give when I can't think of anything clever or better to say.  She's probably right.


Friday, January 11, 2013

Tommy's Tips

How prepared are you?

Most of you would say you're right up there with the best.  SHTF, you got it covered, no sweat.  Right now, at this moment, where is your weapon?  If it's not within reach, it's useless.  Right now, where is your kit to get the hell out of Dodge?
If it's on the other side of the house, lodge, whatever; it's useless and may as well not exist.
A good rule of thumb would be to keep a weapon nearby in every room, and a stocked backpack near every door.  That way you can bolt from wherever and be just fine.
By the way, bottled water is only good for two years.  Just an FYI
What clothes are you wearing?  Would you fight in them right now?  Better be sure.
Where are your meds?  Where are your car keys?  Anything you have to hunt for will eat up precious seconds you don't have to spare.

An attack can come at any time, from any direction.  You can live or die.


Thursday, January 3, 2013

Charlie's Guide

What's the best camo when it comes to hiding from zombies?  Quick answer is scenery.  At first blush, you might wonder what the hell I'm talking about.  But the truth of the matter is the zombies are looking for people shaped things to chew on.  You ever see a zombie chew on a desk, or a simple cardboard box?
Me either.
I'm not going to go into too much detail, but becoming part of the landscape saved John and I in Denver.  It gave us precious seconds to get away and get ahead of the hordes.
If you need to move in zombie territory, make sure you don't smell like a human and hide your shape.  Move slowly, and don't attract attention to yourself.  
Word of caution, though.  Don't put yourself into something you can't get out of quickly.  If they do discover you you'd better not try to run down a street wearing a file cabinet, because you will get eaten.

Charlie OUT.