Vampocalypse
by E.S. Brown
Genre: SciFi Fantasy
Vampires have infiltrated the highest offices of the United States government.
Secretly working with top scientists in the CDC and the nation's most prestigious universities, this clandestine network creates the ultimate weapon for the undead: a particle bomb that, once detonated, transforms any humans within the blast radius into vampires. The world's human leaders deploy nuclear weapons in a desperate attempt to quell the out-of-control vampire infestation. In their quest for global domination, the vampires propel the world into the greatest of all wars. A nuclear winter envelops the planet, which provides a haven for the vampires to rise up and fully realize their domination over humankind.
Prater Saxon, a half-human/half-vampire survivor in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of the war, lives alone in a world in ruins. Despite his efforts to maintain his solitude as he makes his way through the desolate wastelands, Prater finds himself drawn into a new war brewing between the humans and vampires.For millennia, humans ruled the Earth.
Their rule...may have finally come to an end.
VAMPOCALYPSE is a dark, gritty, post-apocalyptic tale of survival in a land out of resources, high in crime, and overrun with vampires. When the military can't stop the danger, it's up to one man to lead the charge against annihilation.
Fans of The Walking Dead will love E.S. Brown's newest novel.
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PRATER
I
fucking hate vampires.
They’re vile, disgusting creatures. And they’re everywhere.
I see what the world has become. My gray eyes take in the world
around me as I walk among death. The never-changing monochrome skies – the
result of the ensuing war that took place after the Great Turn – blanket each
day with a gloomy hue. I wear sunglasses to filter out the sickening tone, to
put a damper on the dead sunrays that have been all but dispelled through the
damaged atmosphere.
True sunlight no longer touches the earth. And the world is all
the worse for it. Without the sun to shine through, the vampires no longer just
rule the night; they rule the day, too.
A putrid odor permeates the air and saturates everything.
Some may grow immune to the smell, but not me. I remain acutely aware of what
has become of our world. Adaptation is for the weak, for those whose only means
of survival is conformity.
The roads are long and the land is desolate. I spend much of my
time wandering. There are cities and towns, but I try to avoid them. I
occasionally come across other wanderers. Some travel alone, others in groups. Or
if they’re vampires, they’re usually – though not always – in packs.
Those in charge of this…new world…play a dangerous game no better or
worse than when humans ruled. A precarious existence has developed between
vampires and humans, though there’s no mistaking the vampires are in control.
Human or not, you never truly know who to trust. For most that’s a
problem. For me it’s easy.
I trust no one.
Not even the boy – I lowered my sunglasses to get a better
look…what was he, five years old? – who limped toward me that afternoon. He
approached from one of the long, dust covered driveways that led to the
occasional house branching off the barren road I roamed. I kept my eye on him
as he drew closer. He was pale and a bit unnaturally thin, and was hunched
forward a little to his right.
There was a “Stop” sign on my right. Someone had written “Beware!
Vampires!” on it. An effort in futility. I quickly surveyed the area around me.
From where I stood I saw half a dozen scattered homes with no one else around. Rolling
hills blurry in a fog of dust-filled air were in the far distance off one side
of the straight road. The other side was bleak and flat. Just like pretty much
everyplace else. I wasn’t exactly sure what part of the country I was in, but
it wouldn’t have mattered. Outside of the cities, from what I had seen, the
entire United States was one giant, dry dust bowl.
I stood at the end of the driveway and stared at the boy as he
continued to walk toward me. He was about twenty feet away. I pushed my
sunglasses back up.
“Stop.”
The boy stopped. We stood there for a few moments, neither of us
saying anything, as I slowly raised my hand behind my head…and grasped the hilt
of one of the two swords strapped in an “X” across my back.
The boy stretched a hand out toward me.
“Mister?”
He started to move forward.
“Stay right there,” I warned.
He stopped again.
“What do you want?”
The boy swallowed hard. Even at that distance I could see his lips
were heavily chapped.
“I’m hungry, mister. Do you have anything to eat?”
“No. I don’t.”
The boy cocked his head to one side. “I’m so hungry and I haven’t
eaten in days.”
The boy started walking forward again.
Dammit. I didn’t want this to turn into something it wasn’t. But I
had the feeling I wasn’t going to get my way.
I shifted my stance and redistributed my weight as I pulled the
sword partway out of its sheath.
Trust no one.
The boy pointed at the satchel hanging at my left side as he
continued to limp toward me.
“You got some food in there? Just…a bite? Anything, sir, please…”
I drew the sword completely and held it with both hands in front
of me.
“I don’t know you, boy. I’m telling you to stay back.”
The boy stopped – again – about ten feet away. He gave me a
curious look then stood up straight as if his physical ailments were suddenly
gone. A crooked boy no more. I held my sword steady.
The boy raised his arms as he sneered at me. His fingertips had
transformed into sharp talons and his snarl exposed a mouthful of razors.
I knew it. A fucking vampire.
The boy – he, it – leapt at me, right at my head. The boy-creature
abruptly somersaulted midair and dropped – my blade sliced empty air, missing
due to his sudden airborne maneuver – and his feet landed squarely into my
groin. Sonofabitch.
I keeled forward, the pain reverberating through every nerve
ending in my body. The boy scrambled around and was on my back before I knew
it. He grasped at my head, knocking off my sunglasses, and covering my eyes with
his forearms. I tried to stab the sword blindly over my head. Despite his small
size the boy’s grip was strong and he started twisting my head sideways as I
continued my random jabs. Pain shot through my neck as it felt like it was
about to be twisted off.
One of my stabs finally nicked the boy on top of his head. He
screeched and loosened his grip. I reached back with a free hand, grabbed him
and flung him forward.
The boy twisted in the air, landing in a three-point stance facing
me. Saliva dripped from his fangs as he bared them. I displayed my sword high,
ready to strike.
“Stop now, boy, while you have your life.”
The boy-creature ran at me on all fours, snapping and snarling
like some sort of feral animal. Just as he was within reach of my blade he
jumped over me, bounced when he landed, went up and over me again, and bounced
again. Over and over this went, faster and faster as it progressed. It was almost as if there was more than just
the one of him. Sometimes he landed real close, and I would swing and slash but
always missed.
I was growing increasingly frustrated. Most vampires I’d faced
were relatively easy to dispose of…but once in awhile I would come across one
of exceptional speed and agility that provided me a life-or-death workout I
appreciated but never enjoyed.
At one point the boy cartwheeled in the air over me, close enough
to where he dug the claws of one of his hands into my face as he went overhead.
His razor-like fingers scratched from my right cheek, over my eye, and partway
up my forehead. Warm blood flowed into my eyes.
The boy landed on the other side of me and hissed. I wiped the
blood away and rushed at him. Every thrust, stab, and slice of my sword was
evaded through a complex series of inhuman twists and turns. It didn’t help
that he was much smaller than me. Good against an adult was one thing…good
against a child with speed and agility as if he was in the prime of adulthood was
something else. And I didn’t know how old this “boy” actually was. He could
have been decades old for all I knew…an aging soul forever trapped in the body
of a child.
This was definitely no mere youth, as I was reminded when he
dropped low under my blade and swiped at my feet with one of his legs. I fell
flat on my back. The wind was knocked out of me but I was able to maintain grip
of my sword.
The boy was on me in an instant. I brought my sword up just as he
bore his claws down at my face. He grabbed the blade with his hands. I pushed
up as hard as I could, trying to get the blade’s edge closer to the boy’s face,
but he seemed to have the strength of five men. He gripped the blade tighter.
The sword began to cut into his palms and blood dripped from his hands and onto
my face.
For a moment I tasted the cold, dead vampire blood.
With a final push, I thrust the sword up. The flat side of the
blade smacked against the bridge of the boy-creature’s nose. His head recoiled
back. I took advantage of the moment and shoved him off me.
I rolled up onto my feet and raised my sword for the final blow. I
swung down hard and fast…but the boy was just as fast. A well-placed swift kick
sent the sword flying out of my hands.
To the boy’s surprise I continued my downward motion, grabbing him
by one arm and one leg. I lifted him up while he writhed and screeched. Holding
him in front of me I spun around twice. With a final grunt I released him high
into the air with all my might.
The boy soared up and away from me. That is, until he twisted
around into an upright position…flight. Damn. Thankfully, not all of them are
capable of flight. But it’s worse when they are.
The boy’s arms were outstretched at his sides, and he glared down
at me with a combination of hatred and exasperation. I could only imagine that
I had that same look towards him.
The boy dove at me, claws first. Just as he was almost upon me I stooped
low, reached back and grabbed the other sword that was strapped to my back and
swung it. The boy’s body fell to one side of me…while his head fell to the
other.
With the adrenaline in me receding I realized how heavy I was
breathing. I shook off any loose blood and replaced the blade into its sheath
on my back.
I slumped down onto my knees next to the body and brought my
breathing under control. I put my hand to my mouth and carefully removed the set
of false teeth I was wearing and placed them in my satchel. My body tensed in
anticipation of what was to come. Even though I’d dealt with this for thirty
years, it never got any easier.
The pain was no longer excruciating but was there nonetheless. The
sharp points of my real teeth broke through my gums and extended out about half
an inch before stopping. At least my gums didn’t bleed anymore whenever this
happened.
I looked at the lifeless body lying in front of me. I didn’t even
pause as I dropped on top of the boy-creature and sunk my teeth into the open flesh
of the headless neck – sucking and taking in his blood. Human blood was good,
but vampire blood was always better. My body felt reenergized as the nectar began
to course through me…
I wished there was another way, especially when it came to
children. But this was what the world had become. Survival of the fittest. Dog
eat dog.
Or, more accurately, vampire eat vampire.
‘cause, you know, we all gotta eat.
Just because I don’t like what I am doesn’t mean I don’t deny what
I am.
Just because you are what you hate doesn’t mean you don’t have the
right to hate. I didn’t choose to be this way. I was born this way.
After I finished feeding, I got up and retrieved my other sword
and put it away. I then headed back to the street where our fight started.
And there they were. My sunglasses. I picked them up and – dammit
– the earpieces were bent. Again. I hate it when that happens. I gingerly
straightened them back out. I’ve done that way too much. Only a matter of time
before they finally…
{{{SNAP}}}
One of the earpieces broke off.
I fucking hate vampires.
Every good author has a story to
tell! In this case I’m not talking about my books; rather, I’m talking about
myself – my personal story.
Ever since I was seven years old
and saw the original Star Wars the first time in a movie theatre, I knew I
wanted to be a storyteller. When I saw those title words flash across the
silver screen, with the fanfare in my ears, and that star destroyer screaming
overhead in pursuit of the rebel freighter, I knew fantastical stories were in
my blood. Unfortunately, it took another 37 years before my first story made it
to the published page. Life is made up of the choices we make, and it was
nearly three decades before I took pen to paper (literally) to create notes
that would ultimately become my first novel (titled “Starphoenix,” which was
released in the summer of 2014).
I was born in Seoul, South Korea,
to a Korean mother and American father, who met while my father was in the U.S.
Army. We moved to the states when I was two, and settled in Tacoma, Washington,
upon his retirement after proudly serving 32 years. I loved my father very
much. I remember telling him after seeing Star Wars that first time that I was
going to be a novelist someday. Well, Dad, I made it!
Unfortunately, I did not pursue
this dream of writing until after his death in 2000. I was living in Boston
with my wife and newborn son. He died back in Washington State. I was
devastated. I felt like I couldn’t go on living so far away from where I truly
felt was “home,” so I quit my job and we returned to Tacoma. It was another 14
years of creating notes (sometimes written on a notepad or post-its) and
culling them together before I finally created a readable piece of work.
In 2010, I had the privilege of
working with New York Times Best Selling Author Steve Alten (Meg, The Loch) on
that first novel. He was at once an amazing and down-to-earth teacher. His
no-holds barred approach made me look at my writing and storytelling in ways I
had never considered and gave me much thicker skin. And it turned out he was
suffering from Parkinson’s disease, which had partially attributed to my
father’s passing. I felt a special closeness with Steve and his tutelage was
invaluable.
After a lot of hard work (many
late nights fueled by caffeine after my kiddos – which by then we had two –
went to bed), I was able to complete the manuscript, secure a publishing
contract, and release the book. Unfortunately, life had a new twist to throw my
way. Just two weeks before the book’s release, my marriage dissolved and my
wife left me after a 25-year relationship. The shock and distress derailed any
marketing efforts I had planned for the book and it was released to lackluster
fanfare on my part. As a result, the situation ruined my writing processes for
many months – years, in fact – before I got to it again.
It was another five years of
writing before I finished my second novel, “Vampocalypse.” I am very proud of
both works, but “Vampocalypse” is definitely a tighter, more concise read. I
matured greatly in those five years, and it made me a much better writer.
So here I am now! Refreshed, in
some ways reborn, and moving forward! I have sequels in the works for both
“Starphoenix” and “Vampocalypse,” along with a project on how I dealt with my
divorce and came in to my own (a three-year journey), and a supernatural spy
thriller. Writing isn’t yet my day job and it’s still relatively slow going.
But perhaps someday I will be at the top of the New York Times charts myself!
Until then, thank you for getting to know me. See you at the top!
E.S. Brown has lived nearly his entire life in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, which has provided the ideal climate for him to foster his love of writing. He is fueled by an overactive imagination and caffeine - a perfect storm that has translated into many late nights researching and working on any number of fantastical tales waiting to be told.
His interests include a love of living a healthy lifestyle, inspiring others, and simply enjoying life and all its wonders. VAMPOCALYPSE is his second novel, following the release of STARPHOENIX in 2014. He is also a poet and is working on a self-help book (a journey of healing following his divorce in 2014). Other works in progress include sequels to Starphoenix and Vampocalypse, as well as a supernatural spy-thriller tentatively titled CODENAME: SCARLETT.
E.S. Brown lives in Puyallup, Washington, where he balances writing with his day job and his cat and his two amazing kiddos.
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