Paxton VS The Undead

By Kristen Middleton

Written by NY Times Bestsellng Author, Kristen Middleton.

Meet Paxton. A man who barely survived a plane crash and is now slapped in the face with a zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately, Paxton hasn't been out of his apartment for the last year, due to his Agoraphobia. But, he knows that the only way to survive this horror is to leave the safety of his home, whether he likes it or not. Especially, since Coborn's no longer delivers....

Dark humor, profanity, and violence. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadows Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386289838

Kristen Middleton

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Middleton (K.L Middleton) has written and published over thirty-nine stories. She also writes gritty romance novels under the name, Cassie Alexandra.

Book preview

Prologue

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I THINK WE should do it, whispered Andrea, a wicked smile on her face.

You’re serious? You want to ‘Mile High Club’ it? I replied, glancing toward the back of the plane at the bathroom sign. I couldn’t believe my normally very reserved fiancée wanted to get down and dirty in the lavatory. Let me guess, you’ve been reading mommy-porn again? I knew she’d been reading something a few minutes before. And it wasn’t any of the books I’d written.

I don’t need to read smut when we can make our own. She put her tray-table away and unbuckled her seatbelt. Now, you go in first. I’ll wait a couple minutes and then join you.

I don’t know if this is such a good idea. Although I was all for having sex anywhere or anytime, normally, the idea of trying to do it in the small, cramped bathroom seemed like a bad one. Plus, she was a loud partner.

Come on, live a little, Andrea murmured, putting her hand on my leg. She moved it up until I had no choice but to take her up on the offer.

***

EXCUSE ME! HOLLERED a voice on the other side of the door. Is there anyone in there?

I’d just given Andrea the best twenty seconds of her life—at least that’s what our private joke was—and we were getting things tucked away when the woman pounded on the door again. Hello?

Sorry, Andrea shouted back. I think I may have had some bad peanuts because I have one nasty case of the shits. Isn’t there another one you can use?

I smiled and our eyes met in the mirror. She was everything a guy could want in a woman, and her sick sense of humor was like icing on a cake.

That explains the noises, said another voice.

That comment made me lose it. Fortunately, Andrea clamped the palm of her hand over my mouth before I could give us away.

I swear, doesn’t anyone know what ‘Occupied’ means? Andrea whispered, turning back toward the mirror. She pulled her long braids over her shoulders and leaned forward. Licking her lips, she said, Lord, Paxton, you took off all of my lipstick.

"I couldn’t help myself. Your lips are so edible, I said, sliding my hands around her waist. I glanced at my own reflection and saw that some of her plum-colored lipstick was smudged on my mouth. And, this shade looks almost better on me, don’t you think?"

She snorted. I’m leaving now. Unless you want to go for round two?

Actually, you might not have been lying about those peanuts, I said, my stomach gurgling loudly. I’m going to need some privacy.

Apparently. You don’t think it was the big bag of Doritos you devoured when we first got on the plane? Or the two Mountain Dews? she asked dryly. I’m also pretty sure you would have been fine without the joint.

You’ve never flown with me. It’s not pretty. Normally, I wasn’t a pot guy, but a buddy of mine had given me some to help ease my anxiety over flying. I hated planes, helicopters, hot air balloons, or anything else that took one high enough to break every bone in the body, should there be a malfunction. I would have rather driven to Las Vegas, but Andrea’s parents had given us the airline tickets as a gift. I think they were hoping we’d elope, especially her mother. She wanted grandkids and was already becoming impatient about our wedding plans, which were still in the works. Andrea wanted a big wedding. I didn’t care one way or another.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. They say flying is safer than driving a car.

They. I grunted. "Let me tell you about ‘they’. Just last week ‘they’ said that coconut oil was good for your heart. Now they claim it will stop it. I don’t trust anything ‘they’ have to say."

You worry too much, Paxton. A plane isn’t going to be the death of you. What will kill you is your perpetual fear of things that will probably never, ever happen. She sighed. Let life take its course and go with the flow. When it’s your time, it’s your time. I’m pretty certain that time is not today.

The irony of those words would haunt me for the rest of my life.  As would her big, brown eyes. Her soft, mocha skin. The small gap between her front teeth, which she hated, but gave her character. The mango peach scent of her shampoo. And the beautiful smile of hers that sometimes took my breath away.

My stomach cramped up. Right now, my bowels are going to kill me if I don’t clean them out, I said. You’d better escape while you still can.

Sorry, she said with an amused smile. Good luck.

Thanks.

***

AFTER TAKING THE shit-to-end-all-shits, I washed my hands and was about to walk out of the bathroom, when another wave of cramps hit me. I quickly sat back down and was going a second round with the hopper when the turbulence began.

Dammit, I snapped, almost falling off the toilet. I grabbed onto the sink and held on as the plane dipped and rocked again. I thought about the conversation I’d just had with Andrea about dying.

You worry too much, Paxton.

She obviously didn’t worry enough.

What the hell is going on? I whispered loudly as the plane rocked back and forth, making me break out into a cold sweat.

Relax, I told myself. Don’t be a pussy. Turbulence is normal.

Closing my eyes, I began counting backward, which I read was supposed to help ease anxiety. It seemed to work, and soon I found myself relaxing as the plane leveled off and the ride became smooth again.

Sighing in relief, I said a silent prayer and then carried on with my business. As I was grabbing toilet paper, an outlandish thought occurred to me—good thing I’d been on the toilet when the turbulence had hit, because I would have surely shit myself. That would have gone well. In fact, some might have wished the plane had gone down. Whatever I’d eaten smelled worse than death.

I smirked as I thought about my body being recovered while still on the shitter. I imagined the headlines:  International Bestselling Author Paxton Graham’s Last Moments Spent Pinching A Loaf.

Yeah, it would have probably immortalized me in the book world.  

There was a loud ding and the seatbelt sign turned on.

Seatbelts on, ordered a loud female voice. Everyone, back to your seats!

Someone began to pound on the bathroom door. You need to get back to your seat, whoever’s in there, hollered the same voice.

I cleared my throat. Uh, okay.

Hurry.

I quickly washed my hands and was about to open the door when another wave of turbulence hit. This time, I knew something had gone horribly wrong because of the way the plane was flying. I slipped, and right before my head hit the sink, I overheard the stewardesses shout in unison, Brace. Brace. Brace.

Then... everything went black.

1

One Year Later

Monday, April 28th

6:25 p.m.

PAXTON, ARE YOU there?

Yes, I typed back, listening to the sirens outside as they drew nearer. I was on Facebook having a private conversation with a woman from Florida.

Marissa Storm.

At least, that’s what she called herself. For all I knew, her real name could have been Ethel Glinkenheimer or Clive Baker. Marissa was a writer. She focused on romance and I’d learned that many of the authors in her genre used pen names. My specialty was horror and science fiction. Needless to say, I used my real name, which had actually become quite popular, but not in the way I would have ever anticipated. No, my name was well-known; it had been in the news for several weeks after the infamous plane crash. Late night talk show hosts joked about my survival. There were memes dedicated to me. Gifs. Blog posts. I’d been an overnight sensation because I’d been the only person to walk away without as much as a scratch.   The media had been obsessed with my survival. Some even suggesting that I’d been rescued by aliens, while others claiming that I actually was one. The truth was, I’d lost more than my beloved Andrea. I’d lost myself. Now, my writing was the only thing that kept me from going completely insane. That, and my lengthy conversations with Marissa, who’d become a good friend.

Marissa: Have you heard about the flu epidemic? It’s bizarre, isn’t it?

Paxton: Yeah, it’s all over the news, I messaged back.

Everyone was getting sick. It was so bad that many of the schools had even closed temporarily.

Marissa: Yeah. There’s been a lot of rioting downtown. I saw on television that they’re bringing in the military.

Paxton: Martial Law?

Marissa: Apparently.

That was big news, and for some reason, made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

Marissa: So, did you get a flu shot?

Paxton:  What do you think?

Besides my therapist, Marissa was the only person who knew about my Agoraphobia. I couldn’t leave the safety of my condo to buy food, let alone get a vaccine. Fortunately, I’d made progress, though. I could now walk through the building and down to the workout room—and even use the equipment—without having a complete nervous breakdown.

Marissa: Oh yeah. Sorry.

Paxton: Hey, no problem.

I still felt shame. I knew it was a weakness, and that women liked strong men. Not that I was trying to impress her. Although we’d gotten to be very good friends, there was nothing intimate about our online relationship. But I was still a man fighting to retain a sliver of pride. 

Marissa: It’s crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Crazy?

She had no idea...

I’d been through crazy and survived. At least physically. The man I’d been—the strong, semi-rational one—had died... along with the love of my life. Along with all the other passengers onboard. I still wasn’t exactly sure what caused the crash, just that it was some kind of a mechanical error. One that left me with a large settlement and an even larger hole in my heart.

As I typed another message to Marissa, memories flashed through my head of mutilated bodies, young and old. Detached limbs and, lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. Although, shockingly, I hadn’t found Andrea in the crash, I’d never forget the image of a young mother still clinging to her baby in death. Or the nice, old couple who’d been on a trip for their fiftieth wedding anniversary, Beatrice and Jim. They’d sat across from us, both of them still very much in love. At least they’d died together, I suppose. If that was any consolation.

I looked over at the photograph of Andrea sitting on my desk. They’d found her body about one hundred yards from the crash. Investigators told me she hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt. I had to wonder if she’d been thinking of checking on me at the last minute.

Pulling myself together, I asked Marissa if she’d gotten a flu shot.

Marissa: No. My sister, Anna, is worried about the new vaccine. She claims she heard rumors it wasn’t tested properly and not FDA approved.

Paxton: That can’t be right. They wouldn’t be able to distribute it if it wasn’t approved.

Marissa: You’d think. But Anna is a nurse and she would probably know.

I imagined with the horrible outbreak, that it was possible the government had no other choice but to get what they could out to the public. People weren’t just getting sick. They were dying. And not hundreds but tens-of-thousands. It was happening all over, too. The United States, Europe. Asia. Everywhere.

Marissa: This thing is really upsetting. I wish you lived close. For the first time in a long time, I am scared of being alone.

I knew Marissa lived by herself and was fighting her own demons. One of them being an ex-husband who used to terrorize and beat her. He was now in prison, but he’d done such a number on her that she didn’t trust many men, and even had a hard time connecting with women. Marissa was also now a hermit in her own right and spent most of her time writing books and chatting with me on

Reviews for Paxton VS The Undead

[bec · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Slightly different take m, easy to get into & definitely worth the read!