We Will Rise: An Adrian's Undead Diary Novel (Lockey vs the Apocalypse Book 2) by Carl Meadows (best historical biographies txt) 📕

Dean climbed to his feet and offered his hand, which the man took and nodded.

“Good to meet you, Dean,” he said in a voice like a low rumble of thunder. “Erin’s told me a lot about you.”

He was a little older than the police officer, maybe early fifties, but he had the look of a man to walk the mountains with. As the two men clasped hands and Dean thanked him repeatedly, he saw the way the old warrior glanced at Erin as she bounced around in happy circles on the balls of her feet, and his smile only widened. It was the same way Dean looked at her, the same way he smiled at her boundless energy, and Dean knew without doubt that Nate Carter was a good man that genuinely cared for Erin.

Sarah, Alex, and Zain nervously edged out of the ruined pharmacy, drawn by the happy din.

“Is that your goddaughter, Sarah?” asked Erin, as she caught sight of the three youths.

“It is.”

“Aw shit, Maria’s gonna explode!” Erin’s smile was almost painful for its width. “Well, isn’t this just a great fucking day!”

Nate had already moved to the bodies of the four men, examining them.

“Do you know who they were?” he asked.

“Never seen them until today,” answered Dean, one arm around Erin, the other pulling Sarah to him. Alex and Zain were staring at Nate with the awe only young boys could have for a real warrior. “But we should have a talk about them, as I think they’re going to be a problem for everyone.”

Nate just nodded and moved his exploration to the Humvee.

“All that can wait for now,” said Erin with a wave. “Dean, Maria is about two minutes down the road,” she said, pointing back in the direction they had come from. “We’re down at the army surplus store. Come on.”

“Hold your horses, Erin,” said Nate. “Let’s finish what your friends here started, gather up the weapons, and I’m not going anywhere without this up armoured Humvee.”

Erin laughed and turned to Dean, shaking her head, and rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Boys do love their toys, eh?”

Dean smiled in response and for the first time since the world collapsed around them, something sparked deep within him. It was bright and warm, filling his soul as he watched Erin perform another happy pirouette.

Hope.

NOVEMBER 3rd, 2010

REUNITED

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Dean is alive! Alive and well! We found him and holy crap, I don’t think our timing could have been more perfect as he was teeth deep in shit when we stumbled across him.

Was it coincidence? I remember teasing Nate about Particles’ supernatural lucky status and quoting V for Vendetta with the line of, “There is no coincidence, only the illusion of coincidence.” I have to wonder if there’s some truth to it now though. With all the weirdness surrounding the undead getting temporarily frisky for yours truly, it’s made me think a lot about the force that caused the undead to rise. There’s more out there than we know or can ever understand with our tiny little mortal minds, but the timing of us finding Dean, just when he needed us?

I don’t know. That’s the simple truth. I have, however, decided to award a name to this celestial or supernatural force that’s making the dead get all psycho on humanity. I can’t keep calling it “this force” or “that bastard” so, for the purposes of referring easily to this cosmic fucktard in my future writings, I am giving the celestial bell end an identity that is easily remembered, that captures the essence of this dark force tormenting us.

Captain Evil.

Not my best work, I’ll grant you, but it’s easy to write, solidifies the dickhead easily in my mind, and clearly identifies what I will be referring to in the future. Also, it’s whimsical, therefore my own personal rebellion and middle finger to it. I could call it the Lord of the Undead, or the Dark Spirit, or some other dramatic name, but that would make it sound like it was cool.

So, fuck you, Captain Evil. I’m getting all whimsical up in your business.

I’m so happy right now, as my poetic opening to this entry can attest to. We went out heavy to the army surplus store, leaving just Mark, Norah, and Charlie under the protection of Particles at the lodge. There was little issue taking the same service road even though the surplus store was further along it. We smashed the back door in (snigger), before clearing it nice and easy. No problem.

Nate and I took first shift on sentry duty outside while Maria, Isaac, and Alicia were like worker ants, in and out with stuff and loading up the van. We intended to rotate out every half hour or so, letting everybody take a turn at security and sharing the burden of manual labour, but just as it got towards the end of our half hour, there was an absolute storm of gunfire that erupted nearby. And when I say nearby, I mean it was freaking loud from where we were. There was the distinct boom of a shotgun, and a staccato blast from a submachine gun, with the shattering of glass and all kinds of din.

“What kind of idiot is making that level of noise?” huffed Nate. “They’ll draw in every undead for miles with that racket. Come on,” he gestured to me. “The rest of you, gear up and wait here.”

It only took us a minute to jog up the road to where we could hear voices. No further barrage of gunfire had followed the initial explosion of noise, but even the men talking weren’t trying to be quiet. It sounded like they were even sharing a joke. Bloody lunatics.

We edged down an alley to the corner of a building, allowing us to peer round to find four men all facing a ruined little pharmacy. One man was popping