The world ended twenty years ago. A new world arises from the ashes.
Diamond City, the last refuge for humanity after the zombie apocalypse, is on the brink of collapse. Their water source is drying, a rebel faction launches attacks on the Council, and worst of all, it appears the Horde descending on the city is actually evolving.
Mayor Robbie Wilson, the man lifted up by the people and elected into the Council by overwhelming popular vote, struggles with the eroding ethics of leadership and the grey moral territory he must navigate for his people’s safety. Are secrecy and deception necessary for their protection?
Scout Eric Bakman traverses the scorched, dead, and lifeless terrain outside the city walls, left blackened by the Zed Bomb. As he feels the invigoration of danger in his journey, he must also face the difficult reality that perhaps the scum of the Earth may in fact become its future.
The mysterious leader of Diamond City’s rebel group, a deformed man known only as Green Skull, plots his strategy to position himself as the forger of the world’s next dominant race, utilizing advanced knowledge of the virus that devastated humanity to rebirth it.
On a planet covered in ash and ruin, agents on all sides, human, zombie, and otherwise, engage one another in a power struggle for the fate of all.
Zevolution: Zombie Awakening is a 30k word book that begins a new zombie series unlike any you’ve read before.
Read the excerpt from the first chapter below:
Thomas held the gun over the face of the zombie, jaw lopsided, eyes the same faded red across the walls, skin the color of phlegm. It reached up in Thomas’s hesitation, wrapping its broken fingers as best it could around the barrel of his rifle. With little strength, it pulled on the weapon, eyes wide, suggesting where it could fire. The barrel met with its skull.
“What is it doing?” asked Garrison.
“Confused,” answered Captain Yelchin. “Shooting them down dizzies them, but it doesn’t last forever. Take care of business, Thomas.”
Thomas knelt down, keeping the gun against the zombie’s head, analyzing its expression. Its eyes were wavering, its cheeks twitching. Its tongue, however, seemed to be slithering in the back of its throat like a rattlesnake. Thomas squinted as he peered in. The tongue was black and split down the center one to two inches. The two sides fluttered in place, slipping past one another twice every second. Between them, a thick, black liquid lathered, building a pool in the back of its throat. As the amount of the substance increased, it seemed the zombie was returning from its daze, its eyes rolling down to peer at the wall of the train. Thomas followed them with his own, seeing then what had been scrawled out over the blood. Eric watched Thomas tilt his head up to the wall and inched forward to see for himself. Across the stained silver in the zombie’s black bile, still wet, stretched a series of symbols. They were surrounded by a border, a square drawn by two fingers that boxed the area in. There were lines drawn by a single finger, some crossing, with no pattern evident. Then, with thinly drawn lines, a more delicate image was made on left side of the box, nearer the top. Eric’s gaze laid on it, trying to discern. It was elaborate, but abstract. He had the thought of importance, and quickly scribbled down a copy in his notepad and returned it to his shoulder pocket.
“Thomas,” called Yelchin.
He didn’t look away. “He was painting.”
“What is it?” asked Garrison.
“A face?” Xavier posited.
“Thomas,” Yelchin called more urgently.
Thomas was still absorbed. “He was trying to express something.”
“Shreds of the mind that haven’t turned yet,” Yelchin explained.
Thomas shook his head, still staring into the design. “No, I think it’s just the opposite. I think it’s some resurgence. Or maybe…maybe, a new mind. A new person.”
Even Eric had to admit the zombie did not seem fresh. There weren’t any signs of human activity, the zombie wore civilian garb, not a scout’s. He also assumed recent transitions didn’t break apart so easily, with such disregard for their own bodies. That still didn’t change the fact it was a zombie, thought Eric. There was only one response to a zombie.
“I’ll do it, captain,” Eric volunteered.
Yelchin ignored him. “Pull that fucking trigger, Rosner.”
“I thought they didn’t know language,” Xavier stated.
The pool of black sludge in the zombie’s mouth gurgled over, spilling through the torn cheeks to collect behind its head. Its splintered tongue slithered out from the pool that filled its mouth to extend into the air.
“They know something now,” said Thomas. His gaze rolled back down to the zombie beneath his rifle, eyes fixed on his would-be executioner. “Do you understand me?” he whispered to it. “Where do you come from?”
Bubbles rose to the surface in his mouth and burst, the tongue retracting, curling in on itself and submerging. It released its grip on the end of the rifle. Silence fell. Eric noticed a rising smoke coming from the black sludge that met with the floor behind the zombie’s head.
“Goddamnit, Rosner!” Captain Yelchin shouted.
The zombie spewed forth a stream of black bile, striking Thomas Rosner in the face and chest, the rest colliding with the ceiling and showering down in heavy droplets. The scouts stepped back. Eric was forced back by Captain Yelchin’s arm, his other gripping tightly his assault rifle as it unloaded in a ceaseless stream. The zombie’s body was torn to shreds by his bullets, blasting away piece by piece from the forehead to the torso.