Pierre, Tales of an Undead Grenadier: Pierre the Zombie Grenadier, #1

By Larry Brasington

Pierre is a grenadier of Napoloens Grand Army. Trapped by the Russian winter Napoloen's army retreats. Pierre and his companions defend the last open bridge when they are set upon by the Czar's troops. The Czar in league with Necormancers uses their powers to create Zombies to fight and destroy the retreating french. In a desperate struggle for the bridge Pierre falls partially under the black spell becoming part Zombie, yet still part himself. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Brasington
• Release date: May 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497703865

Larry Brasington

As an author I the stories I write are ones I want to read. Having grown up in the Black and White movie days I saw every black and white Horror film, Detective Story and war movie I could. The Thin Man, Kansas City Connection, Maltese Falcon, Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Original Thing, the Day the Earth Stood Still, D-Day, Iwo Jima, Rhodan, Godzilla, just to name a few. I devoured books about American history. My first published story in 1968, “Temple in the Swamp”, a H. P. Lovecraft like tale, which might have been the start of my zombie phase. I enjoy writing stories that I would like to read. Currently I have published three novels: “Alien Madness” a science fiction tale, “Unholy War: the Brandenburgers—Russia 41” an alternative history-fantasy, and “Beyond the Wall” a historical adventure set in 168 AD in Scotland. I currently have a series of stories about Shane Eiland, Elf Detective called “Sum Yung Gye” and “The Case of the Missing Husband”. These are Noir style mysteries with a super hero flavor are my favorites and I hope the reader will enjoy them to.

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By Larry Brasington

Cover Design by Todd Hebertson

BookCoverArt.webs.com

Copyright © 2012, 2014 Larry Brasington

All right reserved North American and International. This is a work of fiction and purely the imagination of the author.

The Last Bridge

Bitter cold. Wind. Pierre’s breath froze. With numb fingers he checks the leather wrap over his musket’s firing pan. My powder is still dry. Huddled behind him his comrades cook the last horse over a fire made from their useless supply wagon.  The meat smelled divine though the aroma might bring the wolves. Damn them, Pierre swore, some Grand Army. A dozen scarecrows in remnants of proud martial attire—the green of dragoons, the red pelisse of a hussar jacket and the blue of the infantry, gather around the warm blaze.

Pierre, come eat, hollered Louis.

Pierre shouldered his musket, came and sat; he rubbed his hands letting the heat of the flames melt the ice on his makeshift blanket-gloves. Louis, merci, he took the offered meat. For a moment he did not feel the hot burning horseflesh, until he bit off a piece. His lips thawed and warmth spread.

Viva l’Emperor, he chuckled. A chorus of sarcastic quips fired back with muffled salutes.

Indeed, rumbled a large man in the uniform of the Imperial Guard. His great mustache is white with ice. I am sure our Emperor is safe in some mistress’ warm bed, and we are left here to guard his rear end.  The giant bent over and spit into the fire; his spatial froze mid air and hissed on a log.

To hell with him. Ah, but to see Paris again, sighed Corporal Louis.

Paris? You will be lucky to see a Russian barn before this night is through. A wolf howled on their side of the river. Or the inside of a wolf’s belly is more likely. Those damn wolves are everywhere, the guardsman said.

Dark shapes broke from the woods. Quick, back to back, Louis