The Red Eye Revelation (Through the Eyes of a Child, Book 1)

By John J. Fero

In the course of one night, civilization has fallen and terror has risen as zombies have taken control. Twelve-year-old Drew, has awoken to a world overtaken by chaos and destruction. Now Drew, along with his mother and father, must find a way out of the inner city of New York that is overrun with the ever-growing undead.

They are led through this perilous journey by Drew's father, Rob, an ex-Marine who will stop at nothing to protect his loved ones. While on this treacherous trek through this urban landscape, they come across two teenagers, Ricky and Yvette, a brother and sister, forced to fend for themselves after losing their mother at the hands of a zombie. Together they search for an escape out of the city in hopes of discovering a place where they can find safety-assuming one still exists-with the newly reanimated dead lurking around every corner. It is a fight for survival that will test the courage and resiliency of them all, a heart-pounding horror story told through the eyes of a child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John J. Fero
• Release date: May 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463392959

John J. Fero

John J. Fero is a contemporary writer of fantasy and horror. He was born October 1, 1981. With the sacred scale of the zodiac, he is a proud Libra. His love affair with writing began at a young age. In his own words, "As far back as I can remember, I always loved to create stories. As a child I would make up stories, some with heroes, others with monsters and ghouls, and my friends and I would act them out in plays for family and friends." Around the age of thirteen, fate led him to a certain vampire named Lestat. Infatuated with the works of Ann Rice, specifically "Interview with a Vampire," John began a lifelong fascination with the way words on a page could bring a character or a world to life. So, with his undying artistic temperament, he vies to create his own worlds of fantasy and horror. He is also a self-proclaimed "die hard" sports fan and follower of the vast majority of New York teams: the New York Knicks, Giants, and, of course, the Yankees. He currently resides in New York with his wife and two kids.

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Copyright © 2018 by John J. Fero

Cover Art © 2013 by Duncan Long

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

To Jay Jay and Deidrah Ann,

who taught me the true

meaning of unconditional love.

Contents

Chapter One: Awakening

Chapter Two: What Was Is Not

Chapter Three: Dreadful Dawn

Chapter Four: Feeling Lost

I jump up and gasp for air as a loud voice awakens me from my sleep. Stop! Don’t come any closer! Someone abruptly screams from the living room. The voice echoes through our two-bedroom apartment. It sounds like my cousin Carlos, I think.

I quickly wipe my eyes and throw my blanket aside. I’m up faster than a child on Christmas morning as I rush to open my bedroom door. My hand searches for the doorknob in the obscure darkness of the room. The yelling from the living room grows more intense. Get off me! I hear, and a loud thud rattles the wall. My mind is still cloudy from sleep.

What’s happening? I wonder. Are we being robbed? Is Carlos fighting an intruder? Butterflies agitate my stomach as my sweaty palms finally find the doorknob. I open the door and slowly walk out of the bedroom. Impulsively, I stop and look down the hallway.

The screams have lowered to a muffled gurgle—as if someone were drowning and trying to talk at the same time. Without warning, my parents’ bedroom door opens, and my father emerges. He is half asleep as he peers down the hallway toward the living room. He turns his head in my direction and we lock eyes. He whispers in a firm voice, get back in your room. His Louisville slugger is grasped tightly in his hand. Suddenly, a head peeks out of the doorway in which my father is standing. It’s my mother, looking at me with fear in her eyes. Robert Andrew Rivera, she whispers, get back in your room. I inherited my name from my father, and she only speaks its entirety when she needs my full attention.

Father takes small cautious steps as he inches his way down our narrow, twenty-foot-long hallway. Against my better judgment, I follow. The muffled gurgle from the living room is succeeded by a steady, low-pitched moan. As I pass my parents’ bedroom, I feel two hands fumbling against the back of my pajama shirt. It’s my mother, and she has grasped me with vigor I didn’t know she possessed. Her tight clasp on my shirt halts my trail, but my eyes remain fixed on my father. His steps lead straight to the living room—the origin of Carlos’s shrieks. My cousin knew that my father would never turn his family away, so a month ago, when his girlfriend had kicked him out of her apartment, he went straight to his uncle’s couch. Now, he might be fighting