My 4 All-Time Fave Zombies
The stories of risen dead originated in the voodoo religion, but they definitely got more fun when Hollywood took over. From the first zombie monster in 1932’s White Zombie to the decomposing walkers on The Walking Dead, zombies have always been my favorite movie monsters.
#4: Kyle from American Horror Story: Coven (2013-2014)
Kyle and Zoe had an instant attraction, but when he was killed the same night they met, what was a witch to do except piece him back together and raise him from the dead? He had a bumpy readjustment period, but with time Kyle learned to be (mostly) human again.
#3: Sophia from The Walking Dead (Current)
Technically, all my favorite characters on the show are zombies since they have the zombie virus inside them. But of all the turned walkers poor Sophia broke my heart the worst. I really wanted her to be okay and when she re-appeared I cried for her, Carol, and all of them.
#2: Freddie from Return of the Living Dead (1985)
This movie gave me nightmares, and it will always be my favorite horror film. The wiggling dog corpse. The tar monster in the basement. The cemetery literally coming to life. Not only is this movie crazy scary, but I was emotionally invested in Freddie being the good guy who would get a happy ending. Nope. Zombie.
#1: R from Warm Bodies (2013)
If all zombies were as adorable as Nicholas Hoult’s R, horror movies would be very different. First, the book was an amazing story I could not put down, but then the film was even better.
These characters, and countless others, inspired me to write my own zombie YA adventure, Remedy.
Remedy
A Red Plague Novella
Red Plague Series 4
Anna Abner
Genre: YA Dystopian
Publisher: Mild Red Books
Date of Publication: July 26, 2016
ASIN: B01FOKFCTO
Number of pages: 175
Word Count: 45,000
Book Description:
The red plague has devastated the human race, turning billions of people into zombies with red eyes and an insatiable hunger for human flesh.
Seventeen-year-old Callie Crawford is used to fighting. She was an all-star wrestler in high school, and since 212R destroyed her world, she hasn’t stopped fighting. When her high school boyfriend Levi caught the virus, Callie saved him by keeping him chained in a rural North Carolina barn, waiting for something to change.
Before 212R, Roman Duran was a computer nerd, but since the virus, he’s become a guard in the survivor enclave in Washington, DC. After volunteering for a rescue mission, Roman has been belittled, robbed, and left for dead. He hasn’t saved a single person.
Until he stumbles across Callie. Because she has a zombie on a short leash, and Roman is carrying a syringe full of zombie cure.
Callie and Roman will face soulless survivors and rabid zombies on their journey to save a single infected. Along the way, Callie will have to choose between her past and a whole new future.
Excerpt:
Roman Duran ran
a step behind Jared and saw the moment the other man faltered on his wounded
leg, careening into a chain link fence. Without missing a step, he ducked under
Jared’s arm and forced him forward. The pack of infecteds was only two or, at
the most, three blocks behind.
“Here,” Pollard
Datsik, the third member of their trio, hissed, slipping around a block wall
and sprinting up a set of exterior stairs to an apartment above a liquor store.
Roman dragged Jared behind him.
While Roman
helped Jared to a sagging sofa, Pollard shut the door with a quiet click and
peered through the window, his breath a puff in the silence.
“Are they
following?” Roman whispered. “Are they swarming the stairs?”
Pollard
stretched his neck to see further, and then soft-stepped to the next window and
stared at the street below.
“I’m fine,”
Jared murmured unnecessarily. “I tripped. It won’t happen again.” He shoved
Roman away. “I just need a couple minutes.”
Roman didn’t buy
it. The injury in question was a jagged slash above Jared’s knee he’d earned
climbing a fence the night before. Though they’d stopped running long enough to
wrap it, Jared wasn’t as energetic as he’d been before the wound.
Separating from
Jared, Roman peered through a broken windowpane, blinking away the exhaustion
that had dogged him for the past couple of days. Without enjoyment, he chewed
one of their last handfuls of goldfish crackers, the food dry and pasty in his
mouth. Water was about to become a serious issue.
“I’m so
thirsty,” he complained in a whisper. “And dirty.” What he wouldn’t do for a
clean, clear stream of fresh water.
Roman glanced at
his companions, noting their equally stained and stinking uniforms. Maybe
volunteering to leave Washington, DC had been a crappy decision all around.
Maybe the veep should have sent older, more experienced survivors on her search
and rescue mission. Maybe his eighteen years on the earth weren’t enough for
this kind of mission.
A pack of infecteds
had caught their scent in Raleigh and hadn’t let go. Forty-eight hours without
sleep or rest. Two days of running, of hiding, of trying to lose the predators.
And now, they were out of food and water.
“What if we
climb on the roof?” Roman whispered. “We could wait them out.”
Pollard took the
bag of crackers from him and crammed a handful into his mouth.
“We’re out of
water,” Jared reminded them. “What if they trap us for days? No.” He shook his
head at the room’s closed door. “We could end up a lot worse than we are now. I
say we keep running.”
“Forever?”
Pollard scoffed. “There has to be a point where we say we can’t continue like
this. A point where we circle around the pack and head home.”
Roman wouldn’t
call Washington, DC home. But then he’d never called anywhere home. An orphan
kicked into the system after his mother abandoned him, none of the dozen foster
and group homes he’d lived in had ever been his home. And DC was no different.
It was a way station to somewhere else, no matter whether he had an apartment
or a job or a purpose. It still wasn’t home.
Roman had yet to
find his real home.
Swallowing dry
crackers, Roman double-checked the number of rounds for his M-16. When they’d
left the safety of DC’s walls, they each carried forty rounds for their
personal firearms. It had sounded like a lot at the time, but he was down to
nineteen rounds. The other two men had less.
For an entire
day, Jared had fired warning shots at their pursuers—a mistake, Roman realized
now—but the only result had been bringing even more infecteds into the pack, as
nearby stragglers were attracted by the noise.
His ears perking
up, Roman rushed to the far window and scanned for movement. Was he crazy, or
did he hear a car engine?
Roman had left
DC wanting to help people, both infecteds and survivors. After running into
people, one worse than the last, his companions were nearly to the point of
abandoning the mission. But Roman hadn’t given up. Even though they hadn’t
helped a single person.
Between two
rooftops, he caught a glimpse of a fast-moving white Range Rover driving in a
westerly direction. A part of him wanted to catch up to the driver, but another
part of him, a starving and sleep deprived part, wanted the vehicle to pass
them by and disappear.
The sound of the
Range Rover’s engine quieted as it drove out of sight.
“Let’s try the
distraction method again,” Roman suggested. The last time they’d thrown empty
cans near the zombies, they’d been curious enough for Roman and the other two
men to escape. “It worked before.”
Their rescue
mission to Myrtle Beach could still be salvaged once they shook this pack.
Unhindered by the starving horde of infecteds, the three men could scavenge for
food and water, sleep safely in shifts, and cover ground at an easy pace. This
running for their lives, though, couldn’t go on forever. Without water and more
substantial food than goldfish crackers, he wasn’t going to survive much
longer.
“I’ll open
fire,” Pollard said, as if Roman hadn’t spoken, “and you two run for the cell
tower at the end of the street. I’ll meet you there.”
“Good plan,”
Jared said, “except you’re a horrible shot. I’ll do the shooting, thanks.” He
stood, trying to hide a wince of pain and failing.
Pollard clenched
his jaw at the insult. “Fine.” He grabbed Roman by the sleeve and dragged him
toward the door.
“You sure about
this?” Roman asked, still thinking his idea would work better than wasting more
bullets and hoping to find each other under a tower.
“Just run fast,”
Pollard said.
About the Author:
Anna Abner lived in a haunted house for three years and grew up talking to imaginary friends. In her professional life, she has been a Realtor, a childcare provider, and a teacher. Now, she writes edge-of-your-seat paranormal romances and blogs from her home in sunny Southern California about ghosts and magic. You can connect with her online at AnnaAbner.com.
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