Amanda Hocking

Amanda's Blog

Guestblog from Chris Kelly
October 19th, 2010 by
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Today we get a guestblog from Chris Kelly.  He authored Matilda Raleigh: Invictus, as well as runs Dun Scaith Publishing. He’s on Twitter (follow @Indiechris), and to top it off, he lives in England.
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They say that a picture is worth a 1000 words. 
Demon.
I don’t need a thousand words, just one, because demons come with a picture all their own. If you’ve ever seen Legend, you’ll know the image I mean. Massive. Red. Big teeth. Black horns. Sardonic expressions. Interesting eyebrows. 
Demon.
It’s the image of Satan, Lord of the Demons in the Christian mythology. It’s interesting to note that Satan was the most loved and revered of the angels, the highest of the host of heaven, before going bad. 
This blog post is about demons. It’s also part of the blog tour promoting my newly released novel, Matilda Raleigh: Invictus. Invictus is a steampunk sword and sorcery cross-over, so you’re probably wondering why I thought Demons would be a good subject to promote it.
Invictus has two demons in it, and both have roles that see them firmly in centre stage. On the one side, the side of the good guys, is a demon I fabricated called Ba’al Shamut. On the side of evil is Sephyr.
In Christian mythology, Vepar (also called Separ) is a duke of Hell who takes the form of a demonic mermaid. Yep, mermaid – I was a whole bit of what the heck, too, lol. In Invictus, Sephyr is a Duchess of Hell magically bound to Britain, and the demon of the ocean and sea. She’s a demonic mermaid. 
So, my book has demons in it, and in writing the book demonology was one of my most researched subjects. I have a tonne of notes on it, mostly because I find the whole subject fascinating. And the most fascinating thing about demons, in my mind, is that they are misunderstood. 
Let that sink in for a bit.
I’m sorry, but I don’t buy all that demons are bad, angels are glorious crap. I don’t believe in absolute evil, and I don’t believe in absolute good. The only thing I believe in is potentiality. As humans, we all have the potential for good and evil, and I don’t see demons or angels as being different.
Imagine the whole angel/demon thing as a work of fiction you have been asked to critique. Here we have the King of the Elves, an awesome being of ultimate goodness. His elves are ultimately good, too. One day ships arrive carrying humans (this always happens in fantasy. I’m always left perplexed by the idea that the world started after the ships arrived. Most of the time the original land isn’t even named. And after the first load of ships, no one else ever comes. Sorry for the tangent.)
The king of the elves decide that humans are good beings, too. Some elves disagree, and they are instantly changed (either simply by disagreeing, or because he was pissed, and cursed them. Is this a forgiving and merciful king of the elves? Why, yes, it is) into orcs. And become enemies of humanity for all time. Just because, okay?
Yeah, that’s a book I wouldn’t buy. You?
In my fiction, the demons are self-centred, arrogant, power-hungry, and greedy. They embody the seven deadly sins and flaunt the ten commandments. But they aren’t evil. In fact, Lucifer might be in Hell at God’s bidding… because if God is all-knowing, and angels have no free will, then not only did God they would rebel, he made them. 
And that would make God evil, right?
Demons, evil or misunderstood: what do you think? 
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If enjoyed Chris’s guestblog, check out his blog: http://dun-scaith.blogspot.com and his book Matilda Raleigh: Invictus.
 

Shall Arise First
October 18th, 2010 by
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Craig Hansen brings us a story with a Biblical inspiration. For more information, check out Craig’s site: www.craig-hansen.com
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“The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs … and appeared to many people.” —Matthew 27:52-53

The relentless sun rose above the wide Wisconsin horizon by rote, as it did every day. For the first time in her adult years, Kacie Morrin failed to beat the sun in rising. Instead, as she had for several mornings now, she pulled her husband’s pillow from its place and hugged it to her body. She buried her nose in it and inhaled. Karl’s distinctive scent was faint now, fading but still there. Axe Cologne Phoenix Scent, sweat, and Michelob Golden Draft, she thought as she drew in a deep breath. That was Karl, all right.

After savoring her husband’s scent longer than she had intended, Kacie carefully returned the pillow to its place on the far side of the king bed. That side was where Karl had snored loudly for nearly fifteen years of marriage. His snoring had robbed her of deep sleep whenever he drifted off before her, which was most of the time, or it had until three days ago.

Kacie recalled the late-night rap on the door of their remote farmhouse, the bleary-eyed state she had been in when she awoke. The bedroom had been awash in the reflection of flashing red lights, and there was no sign of Karl next to her. She remembered the mixture of grief, fear, and determination in Sheriff Ruud’s eyes as he told her about the accident. Karl had perished, he said, when a foolish teen in a Chevy Blazer crossed the center line. The teen had been texting a friend on his cell phone while trying to drive, and had collided with Karl’s ancient Chevy Nova head-on.

Karl’s body was still at the funeral home in Hope. Kacie had been taken to the county morgue that fateful night to identify him, but since then she’d directed the care of his remains only by phone. It had disturbed her, the way Karl’s face had seemed too perfect, too unmarked, to be dead. How could he be gone with a face that perfect? The attendants had shrouded his torso from her, hiding the areas where the worst of the damage had been done, and so all Kacie could recall was that perfect face.

He is not dead, but asleep. Kacie recalled vaguely the words from the Gospel. Her limbs heavy, she turned over in bed and opened her Bible, soaking in the words of comfort she had been focusing on for days. She marked them with a yellow highlighter, which made them shout to her from the page.

“Stop crying,” He said, “the girl is not dead but asleep.”

“Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to wake him up.”

“Three days later, he will rise.”

“And the dead in Messiah shall arise first.”

These were the words Kacie kept mulling over—these, and her own personal mantra: I’m too young to be a widow.

Yet these were not the words she prayed on this morning. She had found something new, something she’d almost looked past in John’s Gospel. The words the Savior had used to raise His friend. Kacie prayed them now, as her eyes landed on them and her hand mechanically highlighted them, exchanging the name of the Savior’s friend for her husband’s.

“Karl,” she prayed, “come forth.”

As she prayed those words, whispering them to the rambling, vacant house, a chill went through her. Was she blaspheming? At the moment she couldn’t muster the concern to worry over it. All she could feel was the ache in her soul created by Karl’s absence. She repeated her prayer, this time above a whisper.

“I’m too young to be a widow. Karl, come forth.”

An even colder chill went through her. Kacie ignored it as drowsiness overcame her, and she slipped once more into oblivion. She dreamed vague, disturbing memories that felt real, even though part of her knew she was asleep. The grief-induced nightmares were preferable to the waking reality of life without Karl. With the funeral still two days away, Kacie had little to do except interact with people who had heard the news. They offered sympathy even though they had never given Karl or her the time of day when Karl was still vibrant and breathing. Kacie’s dream-hazed thoughts turned to the memories of the snoring that had robbed her of deep sleep when Karl was alive. How ironic that it now robbed her of deep sleep by its absence.

In the too-silent bedroom, Kacie slept restlessly, her Bible spread open across her chest. When she next rose, the sun was sinking down in the west, bringing on the night. Her head thick, she realized that her body’s urgent need to use the bathroom had pulled her back to the emptiness of the bedroom.

How long have I been asleep? she wondered. What day is it?

Vaguely, Kacie realized she didn’t care. She arose and took care of her needs in the bathroom, washing up in the sink that was still littered with the remnants of Karl’s last shave. She was careful to wash her hands in a way that did not disturb those last few golden whiskers.

As she dried her hands on the towel Karl had used on his last day on earth, Kacie closed her eyes and recalled his rugged features: his sparkling eyes, his infectious smile, the golden curls of his shoulder-length hair. For a girl born in the remote and heavily wooded reaches of northwestern Wisconsin, she had married well. Karl had been a beautiful boy when they found each other in high school. Through the years, his face had hardened, becoming a bit chiseled as he worked their hobby farm and long hours at Hope Dairy. Despite the hard work, the fresh young boy she’d first known—the boy he’d been before the Michelob bottles began piling too high, too quickly—was still there.

Buried just beneath the surface.

Numb, Kacie finally found her tears for Karl, and as they rose to the surface, overwhelming her with tidal fury, she prayed again, nearly screaming. “I’m too young to be a widow! Karl, come forth!” Another deep chill settled over her, penetrating her bones.

Just then, a slow knock sounded at the door, unsettling Kacie. Whatever the hour, it was now pitch black outside, and late. She figured it was probably some well-intentioned neighbor who had noticed Kacie’s failure to emerge from her house that day. They had probably come to check up on her.

She made her way out of the bedroom and across the living room. As she approached the door, she heard the knock again. A single knock, heavy enough to shake the door on its frame. Who would be ignoring the doorbell? Who would be so loud about knocking at such an hour?

Kacie stopped short when she reached the door. She could hear something on the other side, a labored but familiar breathing pattern. A gust of wind blew a scent through the crack around the door. It was one she knew well. Axe Cologne Phoenix Scent, sweat, and Michelob Golden Draft. Strangely, however, there was something new as well, a distinct odor underlying Karl’s familiar scent. It was like the rank smell of hamburger forgotten on a counter for a long weekend away. It was the smell of rotting meat.

Kacie’s heart raced but she was oddly unable to dredge up any fear or excitement, or even curiosity. She slowly opened the door, and there on the other side stood Karl. His face—his perfect face—was no longer flawless. His skin had gone gray with a sickly pallor. His eyes were vacant and confused, and he seemed lost and lifeless, just as Kacie felt.

“Karl?” she asked, unable to believe the sight that met her own eyes. Excitement finally dawning, Kacie threw herself into his arms. It had all been a dream, or a lie. She was too young to be a widow, and Karl was here after all. He badly needed a shower, but he had returned to her. Karl had arisen—he’d come forth, back to her.

As she hugged him close, Kacie slowly realized he was sniffing her hair, a sign of affection that had occurred between them so often. She snuggled into him more tightly, even though his body felt odd. It seemed as though his flesh were loose, wriggling and alive underneath his ragged clothing. Kacie startled when she felt his tongue on her hair. Why was he using his tongue?

“Kacie…” Karl groaned. His voice sounded like the slow, tortured rasp of a man denied water for a week, like boulders grinding against each other.

“Yes, my love?” she replied.

He licked her head one last time, his teeth lightly scraping her scalp, and then whispered in her ear one final word, the last word Kacie would ever hear.

“Brains!”

Zomibiepalooza Giveaway & Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb!
October 17th, 2010 by
This post currently has 8 comments
It’s another Zombiepalooza Giveaway! Today we get an excerpt from Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb – a middle-grade novel by M.J.A. ware. M.J.A. Ware, known as MJ to his friends, lives in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains with his wife and two daughters. He has just published, Monster Mashup, a collection of short stories (available at Amazon or Smashwords). He’s currently polishing his latest novel, Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb. Checkout his website, www.MJAWare.com for updates and free short stories or subscribe to his blog at: www.MikeJWare.com.

Mike also runs an video arcade company and he has been so generous has to donate a copy of House of the Dead 3 video game for the PC! Info on the game and how to enter follow after the story…. 

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Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb

Ever have a really bad day? I’m not talking miss the bus, caught cheating on a test, bike gets stolen bad. I mean, people dying and coming back from the dead to eat your brains bad.

Guess it proves things can always get worse.

The whole mess started one night when my best friend, Misty, messaged me, “Let’s go to D. Q.“

I’m as down with Butterfinger Blizzards as anybody, but it was almost eleven p.m.

Somehow, she talked me into it–I can never say no to her. I mean, I can say it once or twice, but after eight or nine times, I give in.

You might have guessed, we didn’t exactly ask permission–and of course, we got caught by her dad.

He went ballistic. He’s normally too nice, one of those soft-spoken church-going types. But boy, did he holler. I thought he might whip out his Bible and throw it at me.

He grounded Misty for the whole summer. Not from her girlfriends–just from me.

He even cancelled our camping trip. Our families go every year, so that made it a tradition or something.

Almost three weeks passed before I heard a peep from Misty. I wasn’t sure if her dad really came down on her or if she was just too busy to bother with me.

“Look who’s calling. Guess I should feel honored,” I said as I answered the phone.

“Hey Nate, ready to go camping?” She replied.

“Who is this? I think you may have dialed the wrong number.”

“Nathan!” she exclaimed, “Dad’s been keeping me under house arrest. Even confiscated my cell. It’s so humiliating.” The echo told me she was probably hiding-out in her dad’s workshop. “So, you up for camping or not?”

Apparently, no one bothered to tell her the trip was off. I tried to break the news gently. “Where’ve you been? Your dad put the smackdown on camping.”

There wasn’t much to do in our tiny mountain town, so this trip was the highlight of our summer: fishing, ghost stories, eating s’mores until you puke.

“Just because our parents are being stupid doesn’t mean we can’t go.”

I don’t normally do crazy things like run away from home. Which is probably why we weren’t prepared.

We lasted all of one day. Who knew a jumbo box of Little Betty snack cakes could go so fast?

On our way back we knew we were in trouble, but had no idea just how much. We quickly found out that the only bridges out of town had been blown. No one was around, except for the mayor, who tried to bite Misty’s head off. The only reasonable thing to do was take my dad’s ’69 Mustang to Walmart and lock ourselves in until help arrived.

We rounded the corner. Alone in the middle of the street stood a zombie. He wore an old style tuxedo, bow tie, even tails. It looked like a big chunk of its scalp was coming off; either that or it was a seriously bad toupée.

“Five points for hitting the zombie, ten if it doesn’t get back up.” Misty sounded almost cheerful.

“No way. I am not hitting a zombie with a ’69 Mustang.”

“What? That’s what you do, Nathan. Plow through zombies. How else are we going to kill them?”

“I’m not hitting it, end of conversation.”

“But-“

“No!”

“At least pass it on the left. I don’t want to look at it.” Misty folded her arms across her chest.

As I passed the zombie, the thought occurred to me that it might dive at the car. I hit the gas and dropped it back down a gear, only I forgot the clutch.

The car lurched, the zombie lurched, and the next thing I knew a rabid zombie was knocking at my window–knocking with its head that is.

“Nathan, get the car started, now!” Misty started crawling up the back of her seat.

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” Thick green goo dripped out of its eye and smeared all over the window. It took me a few seconds to think. Clutch in, turn key, a little gas, first gear, clutch out, more gas.

“You so cannot drive stick,” Misty said as we sputtered away, leaving the zombie behind.

“Oh no. No. No!”

“What, what’s wrong?”

“Zombie snot–it’s all over the window. That stuff will eat through the paint like your brothers at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“Don’t panic, we’ll wash it off.”

“If anything happens to this car, my dad is going to kill me.”

“Nate, we’re driving around an abandoned town overrun by zombies. I think you might get a few scratches on the paint.”

“No, no, unacceptable. See if you can find a hose.”

“There’s one by the mall. Pull it up on the sidewalk.” She pointed across an intersection to our town’s old, run-down mall.

Misty jumped out and ran for the hose. I followed out on her side. “Nate, there’s no knob. It’s one of those security things.”

I dove back into the car and popped the trunk. My dad always carried a tool kit for just such emergencies–well, not just such, but you know what I mean.

I grabbed a pair of vice grips and dashed to the spigot. Misty sprayed the window as I supervised.

“The paint’s okay.” A wave of relief washed over me. “It’s a sign–we’re going to make it through this.”

“Oh, brother.” She shook her head. “We’re already at the mall. Might as well pick up some cinnamon rolls.”

“We’ll drive right through the middle,” I said cheerfully. I loved those things.

I’m not sure who decided our mall qualified as a real mall; there must not be any actual standard for the word. Ours was really more of a large, beat-down shopping center. A couple dozen shops ringed an old three-screen theater.

We dragged a cement trashcan aside and drove down the mall’s center walkway.

Once out of the car, I realized we could easily get cornered here. Suddenly, I wasn’t so eager for my cinnamon roll fix.

Sappy jazz music floated overhead. Stores wide open, welcoming us as if we’d been expected.

“Miss, take the left side, I’ll go right. Get as much food as you can and keep an eye out for anything else we might use,” I said trying to sound like I had everything under control.

It wasn’t long before we’d loaded the trunk with cold cuts, cinnamon rolls, even gourmet cookie dough. One thing was sure; we weren’t going to starve.

By the time we reached the end of the mall, we’d made a pretty good haul.

“Hey Miss, I’m going to check out the Sharper Image. You finish up the food court.”

“Got it.” She wasn’t carrying food, but rather an armful of clothes and designer handbags.

I got a bag and started stuffing it with anything in sight. When I got to the binoculars, I took my time. Lots of models were on display. As I picked up the most expensive looking pair, I heard a scream.

I ran back as fast as I could.

“Nate, help!”

Misty stood behind the counter of the Krazy Karrot Smoothie Bar, a zombie close behind.

I didn’t worry about the Mustang. It was in my way, so I hopped up and slid over the hood. Just like in those old car movies they play on the free movie channels, except that I slid right over and onto my butt. I would have been embarrassed, if I wasn’t so panicked.

By the time I got to the counter, Misty was cornered. The zombie was almost on top of her. She desperately held up a stool–the only thing between her and its teeth.

I headed towards the counter, when I realized I’d messed up. I’d left the axe in the car. There wasn’t time to go back and get it. I had to find something to hit this thing with or Misty was zombie chow.

 I picked up a plastic chair and threw it at the zombie, hoping to draw its attention–it just bounced off its head.

The zombie, inches from Misty, pushed against the stool, jaws full of brown rotting teeth snapping at her.

I grabbed the largest thing in reach–a five-gallon bucket of lemonade. Struggling, I got it over my shoulder. Somehow, I managed to swing it over my head and upside down onto the zombie. Lemonade flew everywhere. I was about to tackle the thing when I heard an ear-piercing scream. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Misty. It was the zombie.

This guy really didn’t care for lemonade. It fell, first to its knees, then flat on the ground. Its legs jerked and kicked, like its head was in an electrical socket.

A second later it stopped. Smoke rose out of the bucket, still stuck on its head. The monster lay motionless.

Rather than step around it, Misty climbed over the counter and walked over to me, not once taking her eyes off the corpse.

“What was in that lemonade?” I said.

“Nothing. It was just lemonade, even tasted some.” I looked over at her. She was shaking slightly, splashes of lemonade on her face and shirt. I wanted to take her hand, but guys don’t go around taking their best friend by the hand–even if they had just fought off a killer zombie together.

I could see the tails on its retro tux. “Misty, I’m really sorry. It’s the same one. I should have hit it with the car. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is the best break we’ve had. We’ve found their weakness. We know how to kill them.” She looked down at the puddle of lemonade and zombie pus pooled on the floor.

“What–lemonade? You think lemonade kills zombies?”

“Probably not lemonade, but something in it. The sugar maybe? I don’t know, but look, it works.”

I couldn’t argue. Smoke still billowed out of the bucket. This zombie was toast.

“If you’re right, we’ll need some weapons. There’s a CB’s Toys down at the corner. Go grab some water guns. I’ll see if I can’t find more lemonade.”

Before running off, she grabbed a large cup of the stuff to take with her.

I found three full buckets of lemonade in the fridge and several cases of lemons in back.

Misty returned with the largest Super Soakers I’d ever seen. These things had tanks you wore on your back. I wondered what kind of terrible people my parents were for never buying me one of these.

“Says they shoot up to seventy-five feet,” she said.

“Um, yeah, that should do the trick.”

We used an entire five-gallon bucket filling up the two Super Soakers and a few smaller guns. I grabbed a few tools, like the lemon masher and funnel, so we could turn the rest of the lemons into zombie-killing juice.

I strapped the tank on and started pumping the gun. “Now we’re ready. Bring on some zombies.”

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House of the Dead 3 is rated M for mature, and in the game, you kill a lot of zombies. 

The giveaway for the PC version of House of the Dead 3 has the same rules as the other Zombiepalooza giveaways –

1. To enter to win, comment on this blog, leaving an email address to contact you in case you win.

2. The giveaway runs from now until October 28th at midnight. On October 29th, winners will be chosen by random.org and contacted. They have 72 hours to reply before the prize defaults to the runner-up.

3. Only one entry per giveaway. (But you can enter as many different Zombiepalooza giveaways as you want.)

4. US only. Sorry to our international friends. 🙁

Zombiepalooza Giveaway & Alice Ghosting
October 16th, 2010 by
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Today’s a Zombiepalooza double feature – LK Rigel’s giving us her flash fiction Alice Ghosting and THREE copies of her ebook Space Junque. 
LK Rigel’s novella Space Junque is a paranormal space opera romance, set about eighty years from now when earth metamorphoses into an alternate reality. The world-wide catastrophe is set off by oil spills, sea level rise, and massive pollution. Today’s flash story is Alice Ghosting – set at the brink of the disaster. 
For more info about LK Rigel, please visit: www.lkrigel.com. Details on how to enter to win an ebook follow after the story. 
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A jeep was coming up the levee road. The engine noise slowed and the jeep turned off the levee and rolled down into the field. Heads popped up out of the rice and flax to check out the noise. Hardly anybody came in a vehicle now.

The last one was the car my dad drove into the swamp pool a month ago. It’s still stuck there. The tires are already rotting and the paint bubbling and peeling. When we got out of the car, it was weird. My dad looked at it like he used to look at problems. Like he was thinking of a solution.

For a minute, my stomach had felt funny. I think I was excited. I guess I thought he was going to do something about it. Move the car out of the swamp. But the light in his eyes went out, and I thought who cares.

I found a pretty good place to sit. At first, my little brother Fifo stayed next to me.

Sometimes he went off somewhere. Probably wherever my dad and mom went. My place is a little dip in the field where the flax lays down and it’s not too hard to sleep on. It’s pretty clean too, I think.

The jeep lurched down to the field and dipped at crazy angles, hitting holes and driving out of them. I almost laughed. The drivers weren’t ghosts. They cared about holes.

At least this time the jeep didn’t run over anyone. A car hit someone on the levee road a few days ago. I think it was Fifo. I think that’s why he hasn’t come back.

The jeep’s doors and hood had PZ/EPA painted on them. I forgot what that meant, but I knew they were bad letters. Not as bad as IHS. If it was IHS, we wouldn’t look. We’d keep our heads down. We still know that much.

The jeep stopped next to the muck pool. It’s not as deep as the swamp pool, but it’s nastier. One two three four five people got out, all in yellow haz jumpers with big black EPA on the front and back.

“Shibad, it smells like shit.” One of the men screwed up his face. None of them wore helmets.

“That’s because it probably is,” the other man said. “How can they stand it?”

“Let’s get this over with and get out,” said one of the women. “The ghosts are thick out here.”

Ghosts. That’s what they call us. We don’t care. Ha. I made a joke. We don’t care about anything, including what they call us. That’s why we’re so thin. We don’t even care about food anymore. Why bother?

It’s probably why the rattlesnakes don’t bite us. We’re like walking skeletons. Move along. Nothing to eat here.

The jeep people were all fat, and the get-this-over lady was the fattest. She must have been the boss because when she talked the others acted like she’d just said something brilliant.

Maybe she did. I don’t know anymore what’s brilliant.

Yes, your Honor, they said. Oh, yes, ma’am.

“Have you got the camera?” your Honor said. One of the other women made a frustrated noise and went back to the jeep.

Smells-like-shit said, “I told IHS to douse these fields three months ago. You’d think they wanted the Pacific Zone quarantined.”

“Okay, everyone. Line up,” the camera woman said as she finished shooting the field. “State your affiliation and your findings.”

“Pacific Zone/Environmental Protection Agency,” said smells-like-shit. “Findings: Tainted.”

“Central Zone/Environmental Protection Agency,” said the other man. “Findings: Tainted.”

“Garrick Corporation,” said the third woman. “Tainted.”

“Superior Court, Third District, Pacific Zone,” said your Honor. “Findings accepted. Quarantine is hereby ordered.”

“Dammit, I’ve got to pee,” said smells-like-shit.

“Do it, then,” said Garrick Corporation. “It’s not like any of them cares.”

SLS didn’t see me until he’d opened his fly and was in the middle of pissing into my nice little dip. I started to feel something about it, but it wasn’t worth it. He saw me when he was zipping up. His face changed fast: surprise, embarrassment, realization, relaxation, disgust.

A huge roar filled the field, louder than anything I’d heard in ages. A classic 2031 Malibu, aquamarine, raced along Baseline Road. That must be what a hundred miles an hour looked like. My heart raced with the car. I could feel my blood rushing through my veins. It was exciting. I wished Fifo could have seen that.

“Shibad, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” your Honor said. She waddled toward the jeep just as an explosion went off somewhere to the southeast in the city where we lived before.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Garrick Corporation. “Now.”

SLS tripped on his pants and fell. “Wait!” he screamed.

They didn’t.

The jeep was already climbing up onto the levee road when he tripped and fell again, this time in the shallow muck pool. I heard the rattle before he did. His scream was way louder.

“What are you smiling at?” he said.

I didn’t know my face could smile anymore.

He didn’t look so good. His fat face went pale and he turned over and puked into the dead dry flax. From the gurgling sounds he made, I don’t guess he felt so good either. A snake bite will do that.

It didn’t last, but for a few more seconds I felt happy.
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The world is on the brink of ecological cataclysm set off by the Oil Spill of 2010 and exacerbated by the Sea Level Rise of 2070.

When the Defenders of Gaia set off dirty bombs in random cities, Char Meadowlark accepts an invitation to visit the Imperial Space Station until the terror subsides.

Mike Augustine, Char’s connection on the station, wants more than friendship, but Char is attracted to Jake Ardri, the pilot who transports her off planet in his shuttle, the Space Junque.

When Char is stranded in orbit, Mike pushes for a relationship, but Char can’t forget the shuttle pilot who rescued her.

Is love possible in flagrante apocalypto?

The giveaway for an ebook of Space Junque  has the same rules as the other Zombiepalooza giveaways –

1. To enter to win, comment on this blog, leaving an email address to contact you in case you win.

2. The giveaway runs from now until October 28th at midnight. On October 29th, three winners will be chosen by random.org and contacted. They have 72 hours to reply before the prize defaults to the runner-up.

3. Only one entry per giveaway. (But you can enter as many different Zombiepalooza giveaways as you want.)

4. US only. Sorry to our international friends. 🙁

Zombiepalooza Giveaway – Halloween Care Package from Imogen Rose!
October 15th, 2010 by
This post currently has 27 comments
Today’s Zombiepalooza giveaway  is courtesy of Imogen Rose, who has created a fantastic Halloween care package. Imogen is the author of the Portal chronicles, and her package includes signed paperbacks of the first two books in the chronicles – Portal and Equilibrium,  as well as a few other goodies that I’ll just leave as a surprise. 

For more information about Imogen Rose and her books, please visit: imogenrose.com/

Portal  – the highly acclaimed first book in the Portal Chronicles… 


Come find me two years ago…


Six words that propelled ice hockey playing tomboy, Arizona, into an alternate dimension. In one moment, she went from being a varsity hockey player in New Jersey to a glamorous cheerleader in California. 


She found herself with a new dad. She found herself in a new life. One that she had apparently lived in always. Everyone knew her as Arizona Darley, but she wasn’t.


She was Arizona Stevens.


She knew she had to find her way back to her real life, to her real dad…


Then she met Kellan. 

Equilibrium – the exciting sequel to Portal

It’s not every day you see a naked body slumped by the side of the road…

This ominous sight is just the beginning of a mystery that will span two dimensions.

When California teen Arizona Darley and her siblings go missing, their mother, Dr. Olivia Darley, discovers that the time-travel portal she invented has been hijacked.

Is the hijacker responsible for the disappearance of her children? Have the children been transported to another dimension? If so, the police and FBI will never be able to find them, and Olivia Darley must find a way to rescue her children on her own.

How will she do this without access to the portal?

The giveaway for the Imogen Rose’s Halloween Care Package has the same rules as the other Zombiepalooza giveaways –


1. To enter to win, comment on this blog, leaving an email address to contact you in case you win.

2. The giveaway runs from now until October 28th at midnight. On October 29th, winners will be chosen by random.org and contacted. They have 72 hours to reply before the prize defaults to the runner-up.

3. Only one entry per giveaway. (But you can enter as many different Zombiepalooza giveaways as you want.)

4. US and Canada only. Sorry to our international friends. 🙁

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