Operation Z-Day (The Raven Falconer Chronicles: Episode One)

By Dennis F. Larsen

From the author of The Living Hunger comes a twist on the Zombie phenomena, introducing realistic life and death scenarios with a thought-provoking storyline.

In the year 2019 the world is ripe for the next great pandemic: viral genomes mutate on the fly, casual intimacy is common and travel is easy. These factors, and others, allow the spread of a caustic invader to overwhelm, then overcome their host organism -- us. Calgary, Alberta, known to the world for The Stampede and 1988 Winter Olympics, is home to Raven Falconer, an aspiring author, and her three roommates. The women, fun-loving and educated, are intent on furthering their careers and life's circumstances. Soon their lives will be tested to the very limits of friendship and human endurance.

The planet's history is put on hold as Canada suffers the devastating effects of an out-of-control virus, spawning a worldwide epidemic. Travel, commerce, all day-to-day activities are suspended, but it's too late. Thousands, then millions fall victim to the infection. The elderly and weak succumb, while the survivors lose brain function and ultimately their identity; spiraling into a zombie-like state where only carnal instincts prevail.

Seeing the writing on the wall, the friends retreat to the mountains of Banff in search of peace and shelter, hoping the worst will pass. They emerge from a secluded cabin to find marshal law instituted and a world turned upside down, where kill or be killed is rampant. Join Raven, her best friends Mick, Bobi, and Hannah for the ride of their lives. Throw in an Olympic Biathlon competitor, Nathan Edwards, infected with the transforming virus and nowhere is safe.

Episode One traces the roommates’ flight from the city and their face-to-face encounters with an emerging, deadly threat, the Huskers: animalistic post-viral humans who will do anything to survive. If you are a diehard zombie fan, with an unyielding view of the genre - the dead coming back to life to seek out brains - you should pass this one by. However, if you'd like to see some horrifying realism injected into the theme, then download the first episode of The Raven Falconer Chronicles today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis F. Larsen
• Release date: Oct 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9780991843121

Dennis F. Larsen

Dennis F. Larsen grew up in Brigham City, Utah, a small town set against the Rocky Mountains. He attended Utah State University before graduating from Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon with a Doctorate of Optometry degree in May of 1987. He has worked as an Optometrist in a group practice since that time. Dennis was married to his hometown sweetheart, Holly, in 1981 and they have four children. In recent years their lives have been blessed with the addition of six grandchildren. They currently live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Writing has become a wonderful release for Dennis, giving him a vent for his active imagination and need to stay active. His first novel, 'With Cruel Intent', is a crime thriller set in rural Georgia. It is presently being edited for re-release. 'The Living Hunger' takes on a new feel, plunging survivors of a nuclear and biological holocaust into a new world of death and dismay. The author's most recent work is a dystopian-themed story, following four roommates as they cope with a viral pandemic that turns humans into Huskers: animalistic, altered humans - not quite zombies, but far from 'normal'. Catch this one in three episodes or as a completed Series: The Raven Falconer Chronicles.

Book preview

The Raven Falconer Chronicles

Operation Z-Day

A Fictional Series

By

Dennis F. Larsen

COPYRIGHT

The Raven Falconer Chronicles

Operation Z-Day

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 Dennis F. Larsen

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

ISBN: 978-0-9918431-2-1

[e-mail]

Cover Design by Sean Strong for curtisANDstrong

Also by Dennis F. Larsen

The Living Hunger (Book 1)

Alberta, Canada

2019

Prologue

A cold, dense fog lifted from the still waters and effortlessly crept over the worn, smooth boulders that lined the shore of the lake, hiding the earth and the dead. Victor stood near the water’s edge with his raincoat pulled tightly around his neck, his left hand clasped at his throat, holding the lapels together. In his right he held a long, slender dagger, which widened very slightly toward the end, sweeping up into a highly polished point. Thick, red blood dripped from the steel and splashed in an ever-growing pool of crimson near his feet. Exhausted, he could not bring himself to wipe clean the instrument of his salvation, nor could he take his eyes from the bodies of friends and fiends scattered on the ground around him.

The secluded cabin had seemed the perfect place to seek refuge from those that were dead and should have stayed that way. Events around the world had unfolded far more quickly than governments could react. The release of a new, highly concentrated nerve agent, by an extreme terrorist organization, had spread panic and then death in its wake. Thousands, then millions were affected, succumbing within minutes once they were exposed to the chemical. The world community may have survived this alone but the horrific, unexplained transformation of those, thought dead, into savage, blood-crazed zombies tilted the scales against anyone surviving the initial attack.

When the streets of New York reeked of death and before the dead walked again, Victor Graves and his friends had loaded a van with the few hurried items they could secure and had run for the hills. Pockets of the living were evident as they had driven further north, but death was also present. It seemed there was no rhyme or reason, as if the transforming agent had literally been carried on the winds, killing like an angel of death seeking out the wicked. Arriving at his uncle’s property well after midnight, the little party set about making beds, fixing food and looking for weapons. Victor had pulled the dagger from the mounts above the fireplace as soon as they had entered the home, while others were satisfied with the kitchen cutlery.

It was then, as they prepared to make the quaint, little outpost their home that the wave of repugnant, flesh-eating dead had attacked. They swept over the beleaguered band in seconds, easily ripping entrails from their first victim, who fell before she could utter a sound. Victor and company had battled bitterly, retreating to the slowly lapping water’s edge as their last stand. Screams had echoed for what seemed like hours but in reality were mere minutes. When the scene had matched the tranquility of the placid lake, he stood alone, covered in blood and tissue, unable to fathom what had just occurred and not wanting to accept it.

He pirouetted a full 360 degrees, confirming that which shrouded him in a blanket of pain and unthinkable horror -- they were gone. All of them – DEAD! Victor dropped to his knees, thrusting the blade deep into the soil at his side. He raised his hands high above his head and shouted, profaning God and emptying the anguish from his soul. Suddenly the snap of a twig alerted him, a warning that he was not alone. He reached for the dagger but it was too late. A pair of cold, spiny fingers curled themselves around his neck. He desperately tried to wrench himself free from the creature’s hands but strength existed in the grasp where he expected there to be none. Victor pushed himself forward into a clever somersault, slipping the blade from the ground as he did and breaking the assailant’s grip. Free, he spun, the dagger ready, but he could not strike. Standing before him was Sky, a woman he had once loved, a faint recognition in her eyes, which were now clouded and grey.

She advanced, walking slowly and dragging her right leg. A fresh bite mark oozed serum from her neck, a remnant of the arterial pulse of spewing blood that had ceased once her beating heart had stopped. Sky reached out for him, her fingers curling and clawing while her teeth gnashed together, creating a ghoulish clicking with each closure. There was nowhere to hide, no place he could run and no option but to plunge the weapon into her skull and end it. As she approached, he extended his hand and clutched her throat, keeping her snapping jaws at bay. Lifting the dagger to strike the fatal blow, he hesitated, but only briefly, before he slammed the blade down, burying the steel in her head until the hilt struck bone.

Noooooo! he yelled, as she dropped to the ground, pulling the blade and his hand along with her.

* * *

Not bad, Raven quipped, pushing her chair away from the keyboard and looking at the glowing screen in front of her. The budding, young author stood, ran her fingers through her sleek, black hair before she hustled to the fridge and retrieved another can of Dr. Pepper.

Chapter 1

Fall’s cool bite nipped at passersby walking briskly from car or bus stop to the warmth of their home or workplace. The sudden cold snap had arrived in minutes, unexpected and unwelcome. For the inhabitants of Southern Alberta it was the first impending sign of months of snow and shortened days. On a corner of Bowness Road, near the Calgary Children’s Hospital, a condo complex stood, casting its late afternoon shadow obliquely to the northeast. The earth’s axis was shifting, putting the sun further south and distancing its warmth from the Canadian city. Winter would soon be upon them.

The summer, at least for some, had come and gone as they always did, a chronic lack of sun-filled days and too many mosquitos, but for others it had been the beginning of a living hell. Rainwater, combined with the persistent melting of the snowpack sitting atop the Rockies, had gorged the rivers and flooded many homes while sweeping others away. Some homeowners had lost everything, including their lives. The past June had been particularly bad, even by Canadian standards. Billions of dollars in damages had forced thousands from their homes and sent hundreds on their way penniless; their hope-filled lives shattered and happiness, now just a matter of wishes and dreams.

On the uppermost floor of the condo building, a two-bedroom unit faced into the sun. The shades were pulled, inviting the fleeting rays of summer into the room, warming and brightening the space. A quartet of beautiful yet very different young women occupied the unit, each with unique aspirations and goals but being the very best of friends. The condo had been modestly furnished with hand-me-downs from family and friends when the four had decided to move in together. From that day forward they’d never looked back with regret. Although today something was amiss, as three of the roommates gathered together in the living room, reminiscent of diminutive players huddled up during a powder-puff football game. They spoke in hushed whispers but loud enough to covertly reach the fourth of their party sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a list of items she’d created the night before.

Raven wound her long, black tresses around the fingers of her right hand while she tapped a pencil against the pad with her left. She could hear the trio of conspirators plotting against her but chose to ignore them, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of distracting her from the decision she’d made. What else will I need? She ran the itemized list through her mind one more time, desperately trying to imagine every possible scenario and what she would need to cope. Anxiety, mingled with fear and excitement, stirred her imagination. She’d debated leaving for days but knew there was only one logical decision: pack her bags and head for the hills, if only temporarily. It will be fun, she told herself, almost believing the notion. Raven’s first big break as an author was there, teetering in space, just daring her to reach out and take it, but the distraction of living with a houseful of well-meaning roommates was slowing her efforts.

The girls hadn’t intended to interrupt or intrude and were apologetic when they did, but that’s just the way it was. Four women in their twenties with active lives were impossible to keep down and Raven did her best to understand. Bobi, the youngest and shortest of the bunch, had been so cute the day before when she’d learned of Raven’s choice to depart for a month.

Rave, we can do this. I know we can. We’ll be like . . . ah . . . mice, that’s it . . . church mice. You won’t even know we’re around. Come on, tell me you’ll stay. She’d been so convincing, almost shedding a tear but Raven knew her friends better than they knew themselves. They would toe the line for a day or two, staying out of her way and letting her work but before long boyfriends would show up, others would drop by, party invitations would come and her concentration would vanish.

The would-be author had remained understanding and tactful in her delivery. It’s only a month. You’ll hardly know I’m gone. The reply, though sincere, had not brought a smile to her little friend’s face but sent her away disappointed and crying. Raven had called after her, I’ll be fine. I’ve been there before. There’s really nothing to worry about. Come on, Bobi, don’t be so sad. The words had bounced off the bedroom door as Bobi closed it, but not before she’d glanced back, her quivering lips and red eyes saying what her voice could not.

Tonight the three were preparing an ambush to keep her in Calgary and she knew it. However, she had a little tactic of her own that she was quite certain would bring the friends around to her way of thinking.

Raven Falconer was a deep thinker and dreamed of writing classics that would one day stand on shelves next to the likes of Hemmingway, Tolstoy and Alcot. Her present venture, Operation Z-Day, would win her no awards or put her on the bestseller lists but it might secure her a spot with a local publisher who had insisted the novel be completed by the end of the month. For weeks she’d battled her own busy schedule, and those of her friends, in hopes the time to write would miraculously appear. It had not and now that she was down to the wire, she literally felt there was no choice but to get away and write day and night until it was done. Smugs, Raven's uncle, had graciously offered his cabin and she'd readily accepted, having visited often as a child she knew it to be secluded and quiet, presenting a perfect atmosphere to get her creative juices flowing.

Across the room she could still make out most of what was being schemed and plotted quite openly by the trio of ‘mice’. The dark-haired beauty twisted her