A Slow Burn: A Post-Apocalyptic Horror

By Shah Wharton

"Brilliant and addictive!" Amazon reviewer.

It wasn't the first time Bernie had woken up in a stranger's house with a sore head but it had been a while, and the​ ​stench of rot, an eerie silence, and the​ bloody ​head wound were​ ​all new.​ ​

Struggling to remember the events leading up to her taking refuge under a stranger's bed, Bernie stumbles around, wounded and disoriented. With death and destruction everywhere, isolation becomes a monster all of its own.​ Forgotten events​ ​soon​ ​assault her mind, offering only snippets of​ ​information and nothing of use. Desperate, she​ ​seeks out ​the​ ​living. When she discovers other survivors, will Bernie​ ​remember the most important details​ ​of what happened to her in time to save them all, or are their fates irreversible?

*This is one of three stories set in the UK, which feature in Dread: A Horror Collection by S. Wharton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WordsinSync Publishing
• Release date: Jan 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507031858

Shah Wharton

Shah Wharton is a British freelancer and author/publisher of dark fiction. She's a psychology graduate and in 2016-2018 she enhanced her creative and professional skills by achieving a Masters in Creative Writing. Her work has been published by Siren's Call Publications and by numerous anonymous clients. Her husband and their two dogs are the loves of her life. Some say she is mildly obsessed with Bob Dylan, and although she hated school, she's fantasised about attending Hogwarts. She adores fine red wine and robust coffee and lives in the West Midlands region of the UK.

Book preview

A Slow Burn: A Post-Apocalyptic Horror

Shah Wharton

Published by WordsinSync Publishing, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

A SLOW BURN: A POST-APOCALYPTIC HORROR

First edition. January 30, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 Shah Wharton.

ISBN: 978-1507031858

Written by Shah Wharton.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

A Slow Burn: A Post-Apocalyptic Horror

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Further Reading: The Dead Party

Also By Shah Wharton

About the Author

A SLOW BURN

MY HEAD THUNDERED WHEN I lifted it from a sticky, woolly surface. My fingers decided the rough low pile belonged to carpet. I had to squint to see through a kind of mesh draped over my eyes, though the world around me remained a fuzzy black. An eerie silence enveloped the space around me. It became stifling, claustrophobic, and static sizzled beneath my skin, making me itch. Although goosebumps weren’t helping. God, I was cold.

Movement, even a slow wriggle, set my head bobbing like an apple in a barrel of boiling water, and when the back of my head brushed the underbelly of something located an inch or two above me, the pain journeyed over my back in jolts.

‘Shit. Shush...’ I assumed it was a bad idea to make too much noise until I found out what was happening. These were not my usual circumstances. I snaked forward, keeping my head nearer the carpet this time, feeling with my hands for an opening. Once found, I managed to stand, though banged my spine a few times in the process. Leaning against the small bedside cupboard, I caught my breath and squinted, trying to see in the blacked-out room. All I could make out was the large bed I’d been under and large piles of...clothes, maybe, on top.

‘Why am I here?’ I whispered, just as a foetid stench hit my guts in the worst way. ‘Wow, someone needs a doctor. Using outstretched hands acted in place of sight, I tiptoed through the blackness. On my third step, I stumbled over a hefty lump a few feet away from where I’d been lying. ‘Oops, sorry,’ I said, nervously snorting. ‘Can’t see a bloody thing in here.’ There must have been a party the night before and this was a drunken mess at my feet. What else? ‘Haven’t dealt with this sort of thing since college. Well, it’s been a while at any rate.’ Before resting any weight on each step, I tapped my foot on the floor so as not to kick any other party revellers. Kicking anyone with a roaring hangover was never a great idea. Embossed wallpaper passed beneath my eager fingertips as I slid them across flat horizontal surfaces, hoping to find a door, a window, or a light switch. All the time, my head-wound burned.

Thinking aloud, I mumbled, ‘Maybe I knocked myself out? Maybe I’m concussed? Christ, I like fizz like the next girl but I’m never this bad.’

The thick meaty stench stuck to the roof of my mouth like cement dust; I wanted to rinse and spit. When my finger found a wet slimy residue covering parts of the wall, I snatched my hand away, wondering what filth I’d exposed myself to.

The dank room, an all-over dull ache, not knowing where I was, and silent darkness made the room feel like a tiny box, its walls closing in on me inch by inch. Panic hummed inside, until a thought could no longer be ignored

‘What if someone assaulted me? What if hiding under the bed saved my life?’

My grasping hands searched and found fabric hanging on a wall. Curtains mean a window. I snatched the curtains aside, but shutters still locked out most of the light. I worked on the latch. It wouldn’t budge. ‘Who locks these things?’ My heartbeat seemed to echo between my ears.

My eyes whizzed around until they caught site of a tiny silver key twinkling from the window sill. After unlocking the shutters, I pushed them back quickly hoping to avoid the inevitable creak. Still sounded like a whining cat, but reassuring daylight flooded the room. It stung my eyes, despite heavy grey clouds obscuring the sun. Once they adjusted to the light, my eyes stopped watering. Panic eased a little when I acknowledged that it’d be a stupid kidnapper who left a key to any exit, even a window on the first floor.

So, if I’m not kidnapped, I could still just be a party guest who overstayed her welcome.

I was wearing a lacy, navy cocktail dress; something I would normally wear to meetings – distracting male clients from my high fee had been a pretty worthwhile policy over the years. Use what you got, I always said. When I craned my neck to see the room I found two people face-down on the bed—the bed I’d been under for however long. Another person, the one I’d stumbled on, lay coiled at my feet. Shade still veiled most of the room, but I could see similar dark blotches on their clothes and walls. ‘Wow.’ What is that? And where’s the stink coming from? ‘Must’a been a good night,’ I said jovially, feeling anything but.

My head injury radiated pain which grew with each step, as though standing and the thud of stepping added enormous pressure to the skull. Even frowning made my face itch and when I scratched, a crusty layer clogged my fingernails. Felt like a mudpack, which made absolutely no sense. ‘Not sure a facial fits

Reviews for A Slow Burn

[David Royce · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When a story starts out with an extremely hung over woman who wakes up and finds herself UNDER a bed and somewhere she’s not familiar with, you just know that story will kick you in your horror head! “A Slow Burn” does start like that, and it WILL kick you in the head from page one.

Author Shah Wharton has crafted a story that not only captures your imagination, but forces it into a windowless van and blindfolds it. You just have to go along for the ride.



The main character, Bernie, wakes up under a bed with a nastier than average hangover. The stench of death surrounds her and she’s not quite sure where she is or how she got there. She soon discovers the one thing NOBODY wants to discover, much less with a hangover like this. Dead bodies and blood. Lots of blood.

“A Slow Burn” brings us along as Bernie tries to figure out what happened between drinks and waking up. It’s obvious from the start that it’s not going to be pleasant. The isolation and loneliness she feels at first makes her as sympathetic a character you could want. You find yourself drawn into her world as she struggles with what has happened to the rest of the world.

I’m not going to spoil anything. You’ll WANT to find out for yourself what happens. But along the way Bernie finds other survivors. And, as we all know by now, other living people can be just as dangerous as the walking dead you’re surrounded by. Who do you trust? Who do you avoid? What parts of your instincts do you listen to?

These are the questions “A Slow Burn” brings to the characters involved. One wrong choice could be very dangerous in this world. And you’ll be reading with fingers crossed and eyes glued to the page.

All the characters are well rounded and belie the short length of this novella. The conversations are quick and well written and this is one of those filler free books that makes you glad you gave it a try.

If books were music, “A Slow Burn” would be rock n’ roll. A modern day zombie book with a take no prisoners attitude and all the scares you can want. It’s a good thing when you can SEE what you’re reading playing out in your mind like a movie. And that’s what I found with “A Slow Burn”.