I thought I would do something a little different for today's blog. Instead of writing about writing or telling a story about my day, I thought I would share a little from the first novel in my post-apocalyptic series, Pandemic Dawn Book I.
I started writing this novel in 2008 and published it two years later. There are four novels in the series, with another in the works.
Pandemic Dawn Book I, Book II: Rise of the State, Book III: Day of Abomination, and Book IV: Before the Sun Sets.
Series Description:
Taylor knew the zombie-filled suburbs wouldn't be safe, but a group of slaves needing rescue may be what stops him from finding his missing son.
Taylor has not seen his teenage son since the Cleansing. He knew his travels through the radioactive and virus-infected suburbs he used to call home wouldn't be simple, but he had to find his son, and nothing would stop him from looking. That is until he met them, a small group of women and children slaves in desperate need of rescue. He knew that he had to save them, but if his son was still alive, he needed to keep searching.
Dr. Miles Richards works on a cure for the ever-spreading virus in a hidden island military base. With the aid of Dorothy, a self-aware robot he created, they discover far more than mutated viruses hidden deep in the government computer. Who was Dr. Atkins? Moreover, why was all of his research encrypted? Did it have anything to do with his dead daughter or the multiple variations of a virus that had already killed millions of innocent people? Can Miles find a cure before it is too late?
The Pandemic Dawn Series, by B. A. Shields, combines a suspenseful journey of conflict with romance and loyalty. A gripping story of one man searching for his lost son and finding hope, while another who searches for a lost cure discovers his true identity.
Pandemic Dawn Book I: Chapter 1 - Prologue
The day no longer mattered. The seasons no longer discernible. The smell of fall leaves, the dew in the early morning, and the aroma of the air after a fresh rain—gone.
Mornings now brought with it the wind, and odors of those who had died. No one knew how many were dead, but most knew how many they had lost. No one knew whether the virus itself claimed the most victims or the government’s steps to combat the infectious and mutating disease.
Most of those living now did not keep track of the days as mankind once did, marked with calendars and dates—but by the rising and setting of the sun. There were rumors of groups who had made it their sole purpose to collect the histories of this once great and clean world. Recording a new history from the date of the second fall of mankind, that they referred to as The Apocalypse.
As the sun rose that morning, Karl sat up from his makeshift bed of cardboard and plastic. The sky was a dark orange. The residue of the cleansing still hung in the air. The winds blew a wet stench, with a humid, putrid odor. He often wondered how long it would take to get used to the smell that made his throat want to slam shut.
It was hard to hear anything over the gusts of wind, but some sounds found their way through in the lulls between.
He opened his suitcase and placed a few pieces of cardboard inside. It had become his ever-expanding traveling home. Calling it Sam, an abbreviation for the factory which manufactured this particular luggage.
First things first, he thought to himself as his stomach still ached of hunger from the night before.
Hating to leave the safety of the alley with two exits, which was always comforting in case of attack, there was nothing to eat or drink here. It had been two days since he ate, and at least a day since he had had anything to drink. He walked out onto the street where a few dozen people could be seen wandering about.
Seeing a trashcan, he began to forage. With the lid already removed, his hopes were not too high for finding anything of value. Near the bottom of the can, he found a fast food cup with almost three swallows in it. It had been there a while, and there was no specific taste, but it was wet, and enough to remove the sand from his throat. Now to find some food. Since the fall there was disorder and confusion all around. Pillaged supermarkets and ransacked homes littered the landscape. At this point, either you hunt and scavenge, or buy from a not-so-honest black-market vendor. They too evolved with the changing times and opened up shops almost the day after the cleansing.
Of course, in these times, money no longer had any value. As far as the vendors were concerned, they desired only a few choice items. Water, food, weapons, ammunition, or services. Some services they required were as simple as finding someone or something. Others are as detestable after the fall as they were before.
Slavery had once again become a part of life. Instead of singling out a particular race such as done in the past, people who were weak became the targets of slave traders. Mostly women, and children, but occasionally men as well. Men were rare. Most men—even the weak ones put up a fight against slave traders and were often either killed in the capture or wounded beyond use.
Feeling refreshed from the few swallows, he gathered his senses and looked at the rising sun giving its warmth. With the morning winds dying down the stench relieved its relentless pungent suffocation. He decided to look elsewhere for food. Because he was on the edge of the city, it was easy to make treks into the outer suburbs to search for things. It was far too dangerous to travel too deep into the suburbs because of the bandits and psychopaths.
One of the strange things that came with the fall was the changing role that cities and small towns played in society. Cities had once been the refuge of violence and disorder for criminals and gangs, while smaller towns were safer from most of that. Most of the survivors ran to bigger cities looking for help and the security of order and government. Small towns turned into gang sanctuaries where bandits could do what they willed with no recourse.
Small towns turned into personal kingdoms of warlords and gangs, who moved in and took over without much resistance. There were no police, no laws, no enforcers—humankind had reverted to a Darwintopia, survival of the fittest. Humankind now reduced to animals by one swoop of a little-known virus.
As he walked toward the suburbs, he stayed on what was left of the main roads, being sure to keep aware of an escape route in case something happened. It was hard enough to walk with Sam, but running was almost impossible. If he had to, he would leave Sam behind to save himself.
The suburb was only about two miles from where he was, and he was sure he could find food and be back to the city before nightfall. The closer a suburb was to a major city, the safer it was. As he approached the streets of the small neighborhood, he began to feel a little uneasy.
He was hoping to get in and out with a full belly before dark, but he had not anticipated what the day would reveal. He was becoming used to that. Each day brought with it new challenges in this new world. The challenge now was to eat, drink, and sleep—just another day in the hell that he called life.
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