Undead Freaks

By Jesse Bastide

It’s fast, it’s gory, and it’s a struggle to survive.

When zombies overrun the town of Calvert Falls in Southern Maine, a small band of survivors has to fight their way out. But it’s more than just teeth and cannibalistic appetites they have to worry about....

A zombie thriller novella that won’t let you go until it’s done with you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jesse Bastide
• Release date: Aug 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310029479

Jesse Bastide

I was born in France and raised in Maine. And my parents live in a house where Stephen King may have played as a kid. How's that for a strange pseudo-connection to the master of horror?Now I live in Sweden with my wife and two sons and a growing collection of mountain bikes.I'm doing something a little different right now. Or maybe not all that different, but it's a change. I'm giving away my novel, Pure Evil, for free. I hope you read it. I hope you get something out of it. Above all else, I hope that it entertains you.I'm not one of the big-name writers. I'm starting as a nobody, just like everyone else getting into this game. So clean slate. Big playing field. If you want, tell me what you think of my stories. I tend to listen.I'm working on my second book right now. It's a fictional account of a haunting that takes place in a real location in Maine. It's based on real feelings and observations. I'll even go so far as to say that any fiction has some grounding in reality. You can't write about the supernatural without having some belief that there are things beyond our understanding. And you can't write about the infiltration of evil into the lives of good, ordinary people without believing that the same things can happen in real life.So art imitates life and vice-versa. And sometimes the imagination makes things bigger and badder than they are, but that's okay too. We're wired for story, as one writer put it with a book by the same name. I think it comes down to the fact that most of us are empathetic creatures by default. We like stepping into someone else's shoes, feeling what they feel. I'm not going to take it any further than that. You can draw your own conclusions.Enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.Jesse

Book preview

UNDEAD FREAKS

Jesse Bastide

Copyright 2014 Jesse Bastide

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

Contents

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1

Kelly heard the knock on the door downstairs. She was up in the shower, massaging the shampoo into her scalp. It smelled like oranges. She'd gotten it at Whole Foods on her Friday trip down to Portland. The water was on a little hot for summer, but she liked her showers on the hot side. That was just the kind of girl she was.

She wasn't expecting any company, but more likely than not it was an Amazon delivery. She wasn't signed up for the drone deliveries yet (those were crazy to think about), but that didn't stop her from keeping the UPS guy busy with her online shopping. Her husband Terry didn't say too much about it. Maybe it was because she had no problem ordering that sexy French lingerie he liked.

Was that the secret to a long and happy marriage?

She wasn't sure. At least shopping online gave her something to do when she was home. It wasn't like there was much else to do. She and Terry didn't have a lot in the way of outside responsibilities. They had no kids. They were single income, but Terry was fifty percent owner in the Calvert Falls Toyota dealership. When he bought out that old fart Norman Prince, the place turned right the hell around; they were pulling in better sales numbers some months than they were doing quarterly before, and that was making life very comfortable for Kelly and Terry.

The only thing she'd change, if she thought about it, was her husband's name -- Terry. His first name made him sound like he was Asian and trying to hide it or Black or something. There weren't any people like that in Calvert Falls and it was a damn shame he didn't have an All-American Wonder Bread name like she did. It would probably make sales at the dealership even better. She'd even told him that it would be a good idea to change it (his name), and he'd just laughed it off, like he didn't think she was serious. Maybe that was better. If he'd known she really wanted him to change it she might have pissed him off.

Terry had a temper. She accepted that as the price of being married to him. Every marriage was a bargain, and part of hers was that she had to deal with his temper. It had a tendency to flare up now and then like a nasty hemorrhoid. She kept the bruises hidden well, and he was careful never to hit her face.

What happened between them stayed between them.

She rubbed the latest tender spot. It was on her upper arm, and the bruise was turning yellow. She tried to remember what she'd done to piss him off for that one. It was hard to remember, and there was a good chance he'd been drinking when he'd done it. The yellow spot meant nothing sleeveless for a while, which was too bad because it was warm enough to go sleeveless at night. But she didn't think too much about the physical pain. Bruises healed. And Terry took care of her as much as he slapped her around once in a while. She knew the Amex he'd given her had a fifty thousand limit on it, and he paid it off every month, no questions asked.

Can you imagine that? she thought. Fifty thousand a month limit and never one bad word about the goodies I get shipped to my door free courtesy of my Prime membership.

Maybe it was a little excessive. Maybe she was selling out, staying married to a guy who hit her; it was too damn comfortable to leave him. But she didn't want to leave Terry, no matter how she sliced it. They fought, sure, but the sex was still dynamite (especially after a fight). Neither of them wanted kids and she was on the pill. So no condoms to get in the way and take all the good out of it. She liked to think she was still as tight as she was in high school, which may have been close to the truth given the fact that she was only twenty-seven years old and kept herself fresh.

She heard another knock on the door downstairs. Maybe it was more like a pounding, when she listened.

She thought: if they want a signature they'll have to come back tomorrow.

Wham wham wham.

More pounding from downstairs. Now it was just getting annoying. Whoever was there outside banging on the door wanted to see if someone would answer. She didn't see the point in hanging in front of someone's door knocking if no one was answering. But this was some real banging. Like it was something important.

She felt her impatience flare up like a newly lit match; she shut off the water. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed her white bathrobe from the hook on the door. She put the robe on and tied the waist and opened the bathroom door. Her long brown hair was dripping. She walked down the upstairs hall toward the bay window overlooking the front lawn; she wanted to know if it was worth answering the pounding at the door, as annoying as it was. Who knocked like hell in the middle of the day?

She looked down and saw a man hunched over. His head was hanging down and to the side. He had a dirt-stained brown hat on. It looked like it might be Marvin Searles from the