Read The List (Zombie Ocean Book 5) Online
Authors: Michael John Grist
The List (Zombie Ocean Book 5) (36 page)
Nobody called down. Ravi paced about nervously behind her, but then this was his first time, and she didn't blame him. No one liked a rifle being pointed in their face, and up there Anna counted three black barrel-holes aimed at her chest. Best was to wait, so Anna just stood and waited, while the gears of little bureaucracy turned beyond, atop the gate, until at last, wearing her cowboy hat and her denim jacket, she appeared.
Anna smiled. Witzgenstein. Yes, she looked good. Natural living, in accord with God's law or however she saw things out here, had done her good. Command had filled her out. Hopefully she wasn't lying any more, wasn't cheating, wasn't underhand, but so what if she was? She had people, and people were the real purpose now.
"Anna," she called down, in that rich, luxurious voice. "You're a long way from home."
Anna beamed back up at her. She couldn't resist. "Not that far. You ensured you were only a day's drive away."
Witzgenstein didn't let that fluster her. "What can we do for you?"
Anna's beam widened. This was the best part. "I've got big news, Janine. I've also got cheese, and beans, and back bacon too. Some ale, if you God-fearing folks are allowed to drink it. This is a trade mission with news from the world. We don't have any weapons. Would you open the gate?"
Witzgenstein stared down, and in that gaze Anna saw the white flag in the black-suited figure's hand again. It wasn't the same, she hadn't trapped Witzgenstein in a bunker underground, defenseless and hunted, but it was just as real; hope mingling with uncertainty in pursuit of something greater than themselves.
This was what coming together looked like. You didn't make peace with your friends, after all. All Witzgenstein could do now was open the gate. Or shoot her where she stood. Or ignore her until she went away.
"It's great ale," Anna added. That wasn't a line she'd often been able to say in France, Italy, or Tunisia, because back there she'd had nothing concrete to offer. Here though it seemed to do the trick, because Janine turned back to make a gesture to her people below, and the gate began to open.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading The List! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. As an indie author I'm keenly aware of how many great books there are out there, and I appreciate you taking the time to try this one. Would you consider reviewing it on the site you bought it and/or Goodreads?
It doesn't matter how many stars you give or how long/short your review is, as long as the review is honest. Honest reviews from readers like you are the lifeblood of indie authors, affording us visibility and social proof in a highly competitive market.
Thank you!
As a thank you for sampling my work, I'd like to offer you my free Starter Library of 2 post-apocalypse thriller books- one of them is The Last, the other is titled Mr. Ruins, and tells the story of an ex-marine after an apocalyptic global resource war, and his battles with a monstrous figure who wants to swallow his soul- Mr. Ruins.
You only need to enter your email to get Mr. Ruins:
You'll also be first to know when Zombie Ocean #6 is ready for launch!
In addition, I'm always looking for readers to join my ARC (Advance Review Copy) Squad, who get free copies of all my books, a month before anyone else, forever, in exchange for reviews on launch day plus any beta-reading/typo-spotting you (generously!) care to provide.
If you'd like to join the ARC Squad, please send me an email at [email protected] and I'll happily make you a member.
Now, read on for the first chapter of Mr. Ruins, Book 1 of the Ruins War!
- Michael Grist
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Huge thanks to the fastest reader in the West, Pam Elmes, for picking up on a host of typos that somehow slipped through the net, and letting me know within a day of getting the ARC! Thanks to Rob Nugen, as ever, for his incredible work of encouraging, as well as catching plenty of typos, a few lingering Britishisms, important plot points that had been overlooked in the drafting process, and the odd stray it's when it should be its. Gotta catch 'em all. Thanks to Megan who offered invaluable feedback on slow sections at the beginning along with typos, and to Chris Hooker who pointed out the somewhat choppy back and forth-ing of the PAST section, which I did my best to smoothe out. Thanks also to Michelle who caught several tricky typos, and to Ray Ferguson offered a final, thorough once over that snapped up hopefully the last few mistakes. Thank you!
- Michael
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael John Grist
is a British writer who lived in Tokyo, Japan for 11 years and now lives in London, England.
He writes science fiction and fantasy thrillers, and used to explore and photograph abandoned places in Japan, such as ruined theme parks, military bases and underground bunkers. These explores have drawn millions of visitors to his website
michaeljohngrist.com
, and often provide inspiration for his fiction.
OTHER WORKS
Zombie Ocean
(zombie apocalypse)
1.
The Last
2.
The Lost
4.
The Loss
5.
The List
Ruins War
(science fiction thriller)
Ignifer Cycle
(epic fantasy)
0.
Ignifer's Tales (short stories)
Short fiction
The Bells of Subsidence
- 9 science fiction stories
Bone Diamond
- 9 weird fiction stories
Non-fiction
Into The Ruins
-
Adventures in Abandoned Japan
Mr. Ruins
A mind-twisting thriller through the tsunami-ravaged future.
The Arctic ice is gone, blown apart in desperate resource wars. Global tsunamis have left the world an apocalyptic wasteland, and survivors cluster on lawless floating slums, living in fear of the next big wave.
Ex-marine
Ritry
isn't afraid. He lost more in the Arctic wars than anyone, and it left him numb. Now he works in the slums as an expert graysmith - diving into living minds to inject and erase memories - until he meets the shadowy
Mr. Ruins.
Ruins offers Ritry a better life, but demands a terrible price: his soul. Ritry must dive deep into the terrifying maze of his own mind to escape, where plastic soldiers man the trenches and a massive worm eats all invaders. There the war for Ritry's uniquely powerful soul will begin.
'Inception' meets 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind', packed with blood, twists and space marines of the mind.
MR. RUINS (EXCERPT)
The needle enters Mei-An's eye socket smoothly, nestling beside her bright white eyeball and passing back into her brain. She barely flinches, though I know it's uncomfortable as hell.
She's a pretty young half-Asiatic, maybe 28, and I can't imagine what she's doing out here in the skulks. She came in to my graysmithy building an hour ago with a hunted look in her eye, asking for a very specific inject: a hand-made combination of languages and vocational skills. It's plain she's running from something, but it isn't the job of a graysmith to ask questions.
I steadily depress the syringe plunger, injecting its silvery contents into her mind. It's dangerous stuff, enough to radically change her brain content and chemistry, but she doesn't seem too phased. A moment passes then I draw the needle out and lean back, giving her time to blink away the discomfort.
"How do you feel?" I ask.
"Shivery," she says. As her mouth opens I see the black tattoo on her tongue: DZ. The brand of Don Zachary, king of the skulks. OK then. "It's cold, like brain freeze."
I force a smile and study her, sitting there on the input tray of the bulky ElectroMagnetic Resonance machine. She's clearly strong despite her slight frame, and determined as hell. Her stark black hair is a stark contrast against the dive room's simple gray walls. Her long thin legs dangle down the EMR machine's side like a child's, though she's clearly no innocent. You don't get Don Zachary's brand and stay innocent for long.
A silvery tear beads from her eye and I dab it away with a surgical cloth.
"Let them settle for a few moments," I say, "then we'll dive."
She nods.
I leave her, exiting the spartan gray dive room to stand in the polished steel corridor alongside my assistant Carrolla. He's tall and shaven-headed, with features just shy of model-worthy. I think he must have had marine training, though he never fought in the Arctic skirmishes. Working here in the lawless skulks is his war.
He raises an eyebrow, and I know what he's thinking.
"She wants a dive," I say.
"I heard the Don crucified the last guy who crossed him," Carrolla says conversationally. "Nailed him to the tsunami wall. Does that sound like fun to you, Rit?"
I shrug. There are no shortage of legends about the Don. "I'm not turning her away."
"You fucking should."
"I'm fucking not."
"Don fucking Zachary," Carrolla mutters under his breath, "he'll pull your face right off."
I let it go, and we stand quietly for a moment, waiting. In Mei-An's brain the silvery inject will be spreading, starting to make connections and change the architecture of her mind.
"I need you tight on me for this," I say. "It's a bigger job than usual."
Carrolla nods sharply, like a marine. He's got discipline, I'll give him that.
We go back into the dive room together. Mei-An is sitting there like a dab of milk on a slate. Carrolla takes up position at the control panel by the EMR machine's large hollow hub. I sit on the stool before Mei-An and look into her artificially widened eyes. I offer my hand and she takes it. It's good to get the skinship started in small ways, to start our systems aligning.
"There are serious risks to this," I tell her, though I've already told her it once. "Potential damage to your memory, to your wits, to your personality. I'm good, but there's always a risk. I need to hear you say you're sure."
She nods. "I'm sure. I don't have a choice."
I understand that.
"Lie down on your side," I tell her, "facing me."
She does. I climb onto the tray and lie down beside her, face to face.
"It'll be OK," I say. "Carrolla."
Carrolla pushes the button to fire the EMR up. Inside the large ring hub at its head electromagnets start to whir and thump, forming a soupy electromagnetic static between us. The thumping gets louder and I can feel the tide rising. The input tray jerks into motion, drawing Mei-An and I into the machine's hollow heart.
Electromagnetic waves wash over us like an ocean, and I reach out with my mind to begin the synchronization of our thought patterns. Dimly I sense the outline of her brain, a hazy sphere of heat barely glimpsed through murky waters, transposed atop her face. I focus closer, building the bridge across which I'll pass into the outer reaches of her mind, then-
"Shit!"
It's Carrolla. I hear his shout tinnily through the waves, followed by a red flash splashing across my field of view, like blood in the water. Then I feel it, fuck. Her mental immunity is kicking in fast, the Lag, reaching out to take a bite. It's a goddamn shark out here, and already furious at the presence of the silver inject.