Your 21st Day Gift for Christmas – My Newsletter. Why a newsletter? It leads to free books–and books on sale. Click here to subscribe. It is Advent, with me giving you gifts each day. Here are this month’s gifts.
Your 21st Day Gift – 49 Free Books of Various Genres
Your 21st Day Gift – 34 Free Books from Kindle Unlimited
Magic breaks out on the Earth. Suddenly, liars pants catch on fire. Stuffed animals stop gang members. But no one knows how the magic works. Welcome to the new Earth: eight billion sorcerer’s apprentices. Everyone is magical. Everyone gets their wishes granted. Does that sound frightening? It’s worse. Nuclear scientist Katie Garcia is doing her best to figure it out, using all the resources of Oak Ridge National Labs. Will she learn the rules of magic before humanity destroys itself—or her? Find out inside Magic Arrives.Get your free copy of Magic Arrives here!
Get your Zombie Turkeys here. You get a bushel of laughter with each book.
I’ve got another book available on royalroad.com for free!
Sam Melvin, an underachieving e-reporter from a small town, changes forever when he meets turkeys that won’t stay dead. You can shoot ’em, chop ’em, burn ’em—they come back stronger. The undead plague of poultry spreads uncontrollably, rocking the whole country. As Sam tracks down the zombie turkeys and how to eradicate them, his editor, Lisa Kambacher, nags him to turn his stories and expenses in on time.
During their years of working together, Lisa has mellowed into an irascible pinchpenny. Lisa snipes at Sam for plebeian writing but uses her intelligence to pursue the lucrative carnivorous turkey story.
Sam and Lisa ricochet across the landscape, tracking turkeys and fleeing the bloodthirsty hordes. Careening from shell-shocked grocery store owners fighting turkeys crawling out of refrigerators to machine-gunning turkey farmers to secret militia, Sam and Lisa doggedly report.
Throughout the turkey apocalypse, they dare ravaged cities, plow knee-deep in gore and corpses, and upload streams of zombie turkey video news to the world. With paranoid militias clashing with the federal government and unkillable turkeys, Sam and Lisa doubt their ability to survive.
Sam and Lisa have no superpowers. If you have a heart condition or lack humor, you should not read Zombie Turkeys, no matter how much you want to find out what happens.
Your 21st Day Gift – A Meme
One of my teen superheroes has a pair of prosthetic legs. Read about her in the next book, Secret Supers in Space
Secret Supers in Space audiobook cover. Click to listen.
The Secret Supers are bored out of their minds during summer vacation-until they go to Space Camp. They learn all about the space program, try out moon gravity and zero-g simulations, and practice docking with the International Space Station.
But that’s the easy part. The villains they defeated in the past are back with a diabolical plot that renders the middle schoolers’ superpowers ineffective. Jeremy, Aubrey, Dan, and Kayla face the biggest challenge of their lives. Even if they escape the villains’ clutches, will they survive?
Ace zombie reporter Sam Melvin has been fired–by his wife, Lisa. Their paper, The Midley Beacon, is barely surviving. How will they make ends meet?
Sam decides to give being a detective a try. He advertises his business–but his zombie experience comes with it. All across the country, people bring their zombie problems to Sam. Squirrels? Bulls? Sam’s on the case. But can his experience with zombie turkeys transfer?
Sam finds out in a series of deadly adventures–and so will you when you read this book. See if you can keep from dying from laughter.
Ten Books, Ten Chapters Free, all for Advent 20. I’m giving a gift daily. These books were from the previous ten days. Today, you get the gift of convenience. All the books are in one spot for you.
He felt different. More energetic, more alive. He bred with female after female in his flock without tiring. The tom stayed awake through the night. He feared no predator.
Then a turkey hunter shot him.
The setting sun overlooked a crisp, clear evening in early November. South of Bartonville, Illinois, a farmer had leased his wood lot to two turkey hunters. Big and burly in their bulky camouflaged outfits, they had just bagged one.
“Good shot, Pete!”
“He’s a big ‘un!”
Pete and Bob walked up to the tom turkey, bleeding on the cold ground. The rest of the flock had scattered into the woods. He had exceptionally good plumage and weighed perhaps twenty pounds. Pete reached down and picked him up by the neck.
“He weighs at least twenty-five pounds!”
Then the turkey’s eyes opened—and gleamed red. He kicked with his spurs and pecked savagely at Pete’s arms and eyes. Dozens of his hens attacked the men from behind.
“Gobble! Gobble!”
He felt different. More energetic, more alive. He had no memory of being shot, but a certain turkey satisfaction at killing his killers. The tom also enjoyed pecking at their dead meat. He had always liked frogs, but this meat tasted better. He led his flock down the road in search of more predators to eat.
“Sam, you’re fired.” Lisa’s green eyes met Sam’s brown ones.
“What? Lisa, you and I have worked together at the Midley Beacon for ten years! And we’ve known each other for fifteen! And we’ve been married almost two months!” Sam broke eye contact, stood up from his desk, and paced about their small office.
“Sorry, Sam. Romance has to take a backseat to finances. Ever since the bottom dropped out of the zombie turkey news market since the first of the year, the Midley Beacon hasn’t made enough to pay your salary.”
“But that’s our salary. We share and share alike.”
“We can still live on my salary. And you can apply for unemployment now that you’re fired.”
“But what’ll I do all day? I can only play Fortnite for so long.”
“What did you do before I hired you ten years ago? What did you do while I was in college?”
“Uh, mow lawns. Handyman repair. Stuff like that. But I’m a grown man now. I want more.”
“Hmm, you are a decent reporter.”
“Thanks, Lisa. That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Well, it’s the truth. You’ve grown from a crappy reporter, like ninety-nine percent of all reporters, to well above average. I did lay off everyone else on the staff before you, you know.”
Sam’s eyes misted. “Aw, you’re making me feel warm and mushy.”
“You know I love your mother. But your mother’s a zombie. Who wants to see one zombie, let alone four of them?”
“Now that’s not fair. Mom and Dad have adjusted to their zombiism very well. Mom still volunteers at church and bakes cookies and pies for the bake sales. Dad still works as an accountant at GM. There’s nothing to worry about!”
“That covers Diane and George. I know them. I guess I’m ready for them. What about your brother and this new girlfriend of his? I don’t think Don has said two whole sentences to me since I’ve known him!”
“He’d never get a word in edgewise with you, Ron. You said it yourself—you’ve had diarrhea of the mouth since you were born. He and his friend Maggie will be fine.”
“Whatever you say, Karen.” I knew when to surrender. I focused my eyes on the Indiana turnpike ahead.
“Hmmph!”
I glanced at Karen while I drove. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, and she looked out the window, away from me. Trying to make peace, I said, “I thought we dodged a bullet when the zombie turkey plague just missed Gary, Indiana. I never dreamt this zombie thing would hit our own family.” I kept my tone neutral
“So far it hasn’t hit us hard. Life goes on as usual.”
Great! At least she was still talking to me. “As great as it can with glowing red eyes,” I said with a big grin.
“Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about how hard life would be like that.”
Dirac sighed with relief when the US flag came down, and the surrender flag went up on the mast of the titanic luxury yacht. He didn’t mind firing rounds from his AK-47 over their heads, but he hated killing people. He knew they were only infidels, but they were still people.
Chapter 1 icon of Paranormal Privateers
Inhaling the salted breeze, he grinned back at Muhammed. He cheered and laughed in his seat behind the M2 machine gun in the bow of the boat they used to patrol the coasts and fishing waters of Somalia. The sun gleamed off his white teeth.
“Look, Dirac!” he said. “They’re stopping!”
True enough. The bow wave ceased as he watched. A pod of dolphins ended their sporting on the wave and submerged. The gleaming white yacht loomed above them. What were they doing in the fishing waters of Somalia? He couldn’t imagine the wealth on board. Enough for their whole village to eat well for a year!
Their supreme leader, Omar Ogala, organized Somali fishermen and former coast guard sailors to patrol their fishing waters. He ordered them to capture any fishing or cargo vessels they spotted. He told them the Americans and Europeans no longer cared about Somalia with the other crises around the world and they could defend their coasts from foreign competition—and dumpers. Many foreign nations, knowing Somalia’s military weakness, sent cargo ships full of pollutants and dumped them into their waters.
Dirac never expected to see a luxury ship here. It was as big as a cruise liner, but apparently a private yacht. He’d seen one once before when an Arab sheik visited Mogadishu. This one was three times the size! The owner would pay big to get it back. Maybe even a billion dollars? He couldn’t imagine that much money, and he was good with numbers. Let’s see: fourteen million people lived in Somalia. Divide a billion dollars among them would give each about seventy dollars. Unbelievable. A family of five could live comfortably for a year on that!
Now, what was he going to do? His boss just told him to double the productivity of Vegan Inc.’s pickle strain they used for their Kilwowski Pickle brand. That was completely impossible.
But keeping his job required it. Bryce was the low man on the genetic engineering totem pole at Vegan Inc., the last one hired and the first one to be fired if another recession hit.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t face this. So he cruised the internet.
“The origin of Zombie turkeys? I didn’t know they’d found that. Hmm, a Midley Beacon exclusive, the foremost zombie news source,” he read to himself.
Zombie turkeys had ravaged Illinois and the US at Thanksgiving. Thankfully, they hadn’t hit near Terre Haute, where he lived. He skimmed the article rapidly. Corn All, one of their agribusiness rivals, had genetically modified its corn to fight off corn disease. The genetic modification would adapt to the disease at a cellular level and neutralize it by copying the DNA from the disease organism, whether fungal or bacterial.
“Dear diary,” Jeremy Gentle dictated into his app on his tablet in his bedroom. “Today, I became a superhero.” Jeremy stopped, uncertain. Was that the best way to start his journal? Might as well just tell the story. He needed to sleep. He had a big algebra test tomorrow at Maryville Middle School.
Yesterday, school went as usual. It was the same old seventh grade. Same handicapped kids in the same class. Same problems transferring to the toilet from my wheelchair. Nothing new.
Oh, I take that back. I had one new, bad thing happen— I fell during physical therapy. There I was, between the parallel bars, halfway done. I tried with all my might to take another step. I couldn’t. My muscles screamed, at their end. My legs collapsed, and I hung like a marionette from the gait belt, held by my therapist, Fred Bernstein.
How fascinating! This book says there are libraries where hundreds of books live. It also says the fiction books are in order by author name.
Dancer scurried off Your Sixth Year Reader to look at Jeremy Gentle’s bookshelf again. Jeremy was Dancer’s owner and unknowing educator. Ever since he’d taught himself to read by studying the newspapers lining the bottom of his cage, Dancer had craved reading.
He hadn’t figured out why he’d started reading. One day Dancer had noticed patterns in the markings. He saw they repeated themselves in clumps which then formed more patterns. Then he started listening to his owners differently. They also spoke in patterns. “Jeremy” was always called “Jeremy” or “Jeremy Gentle” by his mother and sometimes by his father.
Dancer had learned to understand Jeremy and his parents, and then he’d put the terms they said with the clumps on the paper. Each letter had a sound, and together they formed clumps his master called “words.” The idea was brilliant. No wonder they were his owners and he was only a hamster.
Dancer read each paper eagerly to the point of memorizing it, but reading started to bore him. Jeremy only changed the lining about once a week. So he’d watched Jeremy open and close his cage door. Then he copied the motion, using his paws and nose. He left to search for more words to read.
Startled, I looked up from my computer and turned around in my wheelchair. My best friend, Dan, had slipped silently into my lab. I still thought of it that way, but we’d made it into the Secret Supers clubhouse almost a year ago. Dan’s round, brown face smiled down at me while his tall, wide frame loomed behind me. His dark glasses hid his blind eyes.
“I didn’t hear you come down the elevator.”
“I took the stairs. Your mom made cookies, so I came over. I could smell them from my house.”
“You mean, you could smell them from my mom’s thoughts?”
“And your’s and your dad’s. You were all excited, so I couldn’t help myself from taking a sniff from your mom’s nose. I didn’t snoop any further than that.”
“I know you respect everyone’s privacy with your mindreading power.”
“Except maybe yours. You did permit me to read yours anytime. But I haven’t read your mind about what you’re concentrating on. C’mon, tell your old friend Dan.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I want to surprise the Secret Supers.”
1 The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
The Pre-Existence of Jesus Christ
The Gospel Medley back cover
John 1:1–5, 10–13
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. [1]2The same was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through Him. Without Him was not anything made that has been made. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness hasn’t overcome it.[2]
This is the Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his servants the things which must happen soon, which he sent and made known by his angel to his servant, John, 2 who testified to God’s word and of the testimony of Jesus Christ, about everything that he saw.
What is the origin of the book of Revelation?
How did John get the book of Revelation? Through which Persons did the Revelation pass?
What is the purpose of the Revelation?
Who is the intended audience of Revelation?
What is in the Book of Revelation?
Prayer: Thank You, Almighty God, for giving us the book of Revelation, directly from You through Jesus Christ our Lord. Thank You for using Your created angels and sons of men to spread Your truth through all the world. Amen.
God gives us the name of the book: the Revelation of Jesus Christ. He gives us the topic, things which must happen soon, and shows the provenance of the book as the knowledge flows from His throne through Jesus, to His angel, to John, and then to the whole church.
“Sam, you’re fired.” Lisa’s green eyes met Sam’s brown ones.
“What? Lisa, you and I have worked together at the Midley Beacon for ten years! And we’ve known each other for fifteen! And we’ve been married almost two months!” Sam broke eye contact, stood up from his desk, and paced about their small office.
“Sorry, Sam. Romance has to take a backseat to finances. Ever since the bottom dropped out of the zombie turkey news market since the first of the year, the Midley Beacon hasn’t made enough to pay your salary.”
“But that’s our salary. We share and share alike.”
“We can still live on my salary. And you can apply for unemployment now that you’re fired.”
“But what’ll I do all day? I can only play Fortnite for so long.”
“What did you do before I hired you ten years ago? What did you do while I was in college?”
“Uh, mow lawns. Handyman repair. Stuff like that. But I’m a grown man now. I want more.”
“Hmm, you are a decent reporter.”
“Thanks, Lisa. That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Well, it’s the truth. You’ve grown from a crappy reporter, like ninety-nine percent of all reporters, to well above average. I did lay off everyone else on the staff before you, you know.”
Sam’s eyes misted. “Aw, you’re making me feel warm and mushy.”
“That’s part of good management—emotional manipulation.”
“Uh, you mean you don’t mean it?”
“Nah, I mean it. Emotional manipulation is much more effective if you’re sincere. Say, why don’t you call Andy Zach and see if he has some royalties to share. We signed a contract with him to get half the royalties from his book Zombie Turkeys. We supplied more than half his source material right from the pages of the Midley Beacon.”
Sam shook his head. “I just called him yesterday. His sales haven’t paid for the cover yet, let alone the editing.”
“I told him to go with traditional publishing!” Lisa scowled.
“He’d still be trying to get an agent, let alone publishing his book. Who wants to represent a zombie turkey author?”
“So think of something to do with your reporting and investigative skills. That’s your first job. Get out of here and work on it at home. When I come home tonight, I want a decision from you. That’s a deadline.”
“Ok, Lisa. And thanks. You know I work best under a deadline.”
“Sure, dear. We’ll go out for dinner tonight to celebrate your new career, whatever it will be.”
“I’m kind of tired of McDonald’s.”
“We’ll spurge. We’ll go to the big city of Peoria. Maybe to the Country Time Buffet.”
“Wow. Thanks, Lisa.”
“Now, shoo!” Lisa pushed her hands toward him. “Don’t forget to clear out your desk.”
After packing his desk into a cardboard box, Sam walked the four blocks from the Midley office to their home at the corner of Maple Street and Main in downtown Midley, Illinois, population five hundred.
Lisa had given him one final assignment. Find a job using his reporting experience.
He set up his laptop and entered “experienced online reporter.” He quickly found he should be paid $44,000 to $66,000 a year, depending upon experience. At the peak of the zombie turkey plague, Lisa had paid him $100,000. That lowered to $50,000 and then $25,000 the week before she laid him off.
Sam applied for a dozen jobs online. He didn’t feel sanguine. He wanted to talk to someone.
What else could he search for? “Investigator.” He’d certainly done that.
Look at that definition. Private investigator—a person who does not work for the police or government but who undertakes investigations as a subcontractor.
He sure could do that. He needed a license in Illinois. Sam met all the qualifications except education and experience. He just had a diploma from Midley High, home of the Midley Meteors.
“Hi, Lisa,” he greeted dully when she came home. He hung his head.
“Why are you in a blue funk? Normally you’re like a puppy dog when I come home. Didn’t you find a job?”
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 4
Click to claim your pre-order discount!
“I really like the idea of being a private investigator, but I need three years experience or a degree, and I’ve got neither.”
“You’ve got that. You’ve got ten years experience with the Midley Beacon.”
“I can see that, but you’re not a private investigator.”
“Ha! Running a small-town newspaper is just like being a private investigator. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the paperwork done for you, and me and you can start practicing tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Lisa, but I don’t see how this can work out.”
“Let me do the thinking. That isn’t your strong suit. Your strength is interviewing and getting people to like you.”
“OK, Lisa.”
“Now let’s go out to celebrate your new private investigator job. I’m thinkin’ of chickin.”
“Which restaurant?”
“Mama’s Chicken in Peoria.”
“Mmm-mmm. I can already smell their fried chicken and biscuits!”
“You drive. I’ll take my laptop and fill out the online application for a PI agency and a PI license for you.”
* * *
The next morning as Sam woke up, Lisa smugly handed him a printed piece of paper. He looked at it, and his mouth dropped open. “Lisa, I can’t believe you got me a PI license already!”
“And I’m the proud owner of the Midley Detective Agency—and have been for ten years. I’ve got the documentation to prove it.”
“How could you do that so fast?”
“I’ve got some friends in the government and all the documentation. Plus, we move at internet speed here at the Midley Beacon.”
Part 5
“But is all that legal?”
“Legal enough to hold up in court. All the documents are back dated. That’s all I care about. Don’t worry so much, Sam.”
“I’ve got some good news for you. A couple of PI agencies have contacted me. They’re from Chicago, Springfield, and St. Louis. Most of them want me to investigate domestic cases or politicians.”
Lisa frowned. “Domestic cases are boring. Politicians are too, but at least that’s steady work. Start with them and also advertise yourself through the internet. A lot of PI agencies don’t. I’ll advertise as well. Here’s a list of free places to advertise.” Lisa handed him a printout.
“Great. Let me kiss you before you go to work.”
* * *
Sam took out ads everywhere Lisa suggested, on social media, mailing lists, and local services sites. Then he waited for his phone to ring and email to ding.
Nothing.
He called the PI agencies. They wanted him to have experience with domestic and political investigations. “Thanks, but no thanks,” they said.
As he went to sleep that night, Lisa, said, “Don’t worry, Sam. Tomorrow will be better.”
Soon after Lisa went to work the next day, she called him.
“Sam! I’ve got a job for you!”
“What is it?”
“There’s a possible zombie animal sighting in Normal, Illinois. I just got an email.”
“That’s not normal.”
“Yeah, well, it’s right up your alley. Dutchman’s Dairy. Here’s the address.”
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 6
The Chapter 5 London chapter icon – what could it mean? Click and find out!
Sam drove to Normal in his hulking 1984 Lincoln Town Car. He was glad it’d had bodywork and a new paint job during their prosperous months after the zombie turkey apocalypse. The two-tone brown paint looked spiffy. And it hid rust.
Sam left I-74 after Bloomington and headed to Dutchman’s Dairy. Black-and-white cows dotted the green fields around a barn. He parked, then walked to the door and entered.
“Hi. I’m Sam Melvin, private investigator.” He’d practiced that opening line on the way over. “I heard you have some sort of zombie animal?”
“Zombie animal?” The middle-aged woman at the counter frowned. Refrigerators full of dairy products lined the walls around the room. “I wonder if Mr. Haagen knows something.”
“Who’s Mr. Haagen?”
“He’s the owner of Dutchman’s Dairy.”
“And what’s your name?”
“I’m Shirley Holzheimer.” She picked up her phone and tapped.
“Mr. Haagen? . . . Did you call a private investigator? . . . OK, he’s here at the store.”
She set her phone on the counter. “He’ll be right here.”
“Thank you.” Sam looked around. Milk. Yogurt. Cheese. Ice cream. Hmmm. Vanilla, strawberry. Maybe Lisa would like a half gallon? He would.
An elderly but spry man entered.
“Mr. Haagen?”
“That’s my name—don’t wear it out. Or you can call me Steve. You are . . .”
Part 7
“Sam Melvin, private investigator. I heard you had some zombie animal here.”
“Or something. You saw my cows as you came in?”
“Sure.”
“Every night for the past week something has been breaking through my fence, and my cows have been escaping.”
“Wow. Could it simply be your cows getting out?”
“Nope. The fence is broken from outside.”
“Um, try a bigger fence?”
“It’s electrified. I amped up the voltage. Nothing. I put steel fencing behind the wire. Down it came. I even tried cinderblocks behind the steel fencing. Everything was smashed.”
“I guess I’ll have to watch it overnight.”
“Yeah, I thought of that, and then I thought of you, the famous zombie turkey reporter. I didn’t want to try this without your expertise.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“So you’re working as a detective now? A zombie detective?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, detect.”
Sam went to the broken fence with Steve. A hundred yards of electric fence wire lay on the ground, pointing toward the barn. The steel fencing was bowed and flattened. The cinderblocks were scattered about like cereal pieces from a toddler’s high chair.
“Whoa, there was some real force used here.”
“I’m glad it’s you who’s investigating.”
“Uh, yeah. What are these tracks all over the ground?”
“My cows. When the fence goes down, they go out. They come back in the same way.”
“They return?”
“Sure. They know where the food is.”
“What’s on the other side of the fence? Who’s property is it?
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 8
“It’s my neighbor’s wood lot. We’ve gone through it together, but we haven’t found anything.”
“I hope you were armed.”
“Yup. We read about the zombie turkeys. We had shotguns and flamethrowers. Zombie Burners brand from Amazon.”
“That’ll do it. I’m not sure the shotguns would help. They only slow them down while they regenerate.”
“Heh. I’ve been reading up on zombie turkeys. They’re loaded with rock salt.”
“That’s a new one. I know salt water works on zombie turkeys to kill the bacteria, but I never thought of rock salt.”
“You put a load of rock salt into a zombie turkey and what do you get when it dissolves? Salt water.”
“That might work.”
“We’ll find out tonight.”
That evening, Sam enjoyed a hearty barbecue steak dinner with Steve and his wife, Abby, around their dinner table. They filled in the cracks with corn on the cob and homemade French fries.
“That was a great meal, Steve, Abby. Thanks.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sam. Seems we always have plenty of beef around here,” Abby said.
“Sun’s down, Sam. Let’s go on our ‘steakout.’”
“Ha! Did you get the fence back up?”
Part 9
“Yup. The boys are getting pretty fast at repairing that baby. I even had them mix up a bag of concrete and pour it over the cinderblocks.”
“Would it set that fast?”
“So happens we were laying a new driveway and I got this concrete admixture that hardens it faster. Plus, I had some rebar lying around, and I put that in too.”
“Let’s see if that slows down this thing, whatever it is.”
“You don’t think it was those zombie turkeys?”
“No, there’d be turkey feathers everywhere, and they’d attack your cows.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I’m afraid some other animal has gone zombie.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yes. I hope you have your flamethrower.”
“Yep. I’ve got the big one I use to protect the house. I hooked an old well pump to a fifty-five-gallon barrel of napalm. I read about that in the Midley Beacon.”
“Yes, that was from one of the turkey farmers who survived.”
As they settled down in a duck blind to watch the fence from fifty yards away, Sam asked, “Steve, did you have any zombie turkeys out here?”
“Yeah, we got one flock come through before Thanksgiving, but the flamethrower did the trick. I’d say I owe you one, Sam.”
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 10
They watched the fence in the light of the setting half-moon. Out of the woods galloped a huge shape. Its eyes glowed red. It accelerated and hit the fence head down. Sparks flew as the electric fence wires snapped. The steel fence slammed into the reinforced cinderblocks. The blocks and the concrete cracked and bent but didn’t break. The steel rebar held.
“What is that?” Sam cried “It’s a zombie something.”
“I think—” Steve was cut off as the thing slammed into the fence again and again, like a horizontal jackhammer. With each blow, chips of concrete and cinder blocks flew yards from the back of the fence, hitting the blind like shrapnel.
“I think it’s going to break through!” Sam said.
The rebar bowed more and more as the concrete and cinderblocks crumbled beneath the massive blows. Then like a spring, a whole section popped out of the gravel that once was solid. The creature followed with a snort and a bellow.
“It’s a bull!”
“A zombie bull!”
Simultaneously, they sprayed the huge bovine with their flamethrowers.
Crazed, dazzled, and maddened by the flames, the bull ran in circles and then fled back to the woods. They could trace its path by the burning underbrush in its wake.
“OK, it’s time to see if this salt buckshot works.” Sam checked the magazine of the shotgun Steve had given him. He found it full and trailed the bull’s fiery tracks, carrying the shotgun.
“It worked on the zombie turkeys, but I don’t know about this bull.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Try it. Maybe we’ll find it sleeping.”
Part 11
“Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Say, Steve, where do you get salt loaded into your cartridges?”
“I do it myself. I’ve loaded my own cartridges for over forty years.”
“I’ve got the ten rounds you gave me. How much ammo do you have?”
“Another twenty.”
“I hope that’s enough. I still got my trusty zombie flamethrower.”
“You’re pretty handy with that shotgun,” Steve said as they followed the trail of embers.
“I got a lot of experience with zombie turkeys. Look. The flames are dying out.”
“Yeah. There’s too much moisture in the ground for them to spread.”
“Let me get out my flashlight.”
“There are the bull’s tracks. No more burnt underbrush.”
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 12
“Huh. What’s this?” Sam picked up a black tattered piece of leather. “What do you think, Steve?”
“That’s a piece of the bull. I wondered what would happen to all that burned skin.”
“I’ve seen zombie turkeys burned bald grow skin and feathers back in about ten minutes.”
“We’ve been tracking him for over twenty minutes. Do you think he’s recovered?”
“I’d bet on it.”
“We’re nearly past my neighbor’s property and to the next one. There’s the property line. And fence.”
Sam shone his light on the fence. “There’s a bull-sized hole.”
Steve examined the broken barbed wire. “It’s already starting to rust. It’s been broken for at least a week. I check my fence every week. My neighbor doesn’t have cows. But maybe he does now.”
They went through the breach, hiked down a ravine, and waded across the creek. “Now what? I don’t see any tracks,” Sam said.
“Me neither. Let’s split up. You go downstream toward the road, and I’ll go upstream.”
Sam followed the rivulet to the road without seeing any tracks. He went back and followed Steve’s footprints in the mud next to the creek. Sam heard nothing. He was so intent on tracking he almost bumped into Steve.
“Hey.”
“Shhh.” Steve pointed.
Fifty yards away, lying in the mud and watching them, was the bull with red glowing eyes. Was it resting? It snorted.
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 13
Sam pointed his shotgun at the bull. “Should we fire?” he whispered.
“Maybe climb this tree first, in case he charges.” Steve pointed to a gnarled oak growing in the bank. They clambered to a branch about ten feet above the ground.
“Aim for the head. I don’t think we’ll get through the hide.”
“OK, Steve. One, two, three––”
BLAM! BLAM! The two shots sounded like one. The bull jumped four feet straight up, bellowed, and charged.
BLAM! BLAM!
WHAM! The whole tree shook as the bull rammed it. Sam almost fell but held his shotgun with one hand and a higher branch with another.
Sam held his shotgun between his knees, the branch with one hand, and Steve with the other.
WHAM! The bull circled and charged again.
BLAM! BLAM! Sam and Steve took two more shots at the bull’s head on the way in.
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM! Click. Now Sam was out.
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 14
This time the bull shook his head, as if annoyed by flies.
“How long did the salt take to dezombify the turkeys?” Sam said as he reloaded his gun.
“Let me think. They were shredded, then grew back feathers, then their eyes turned normal. Maybe fifteen minutes?”
“Let’s see. A big turkey might weigh twenty pounds, thirty or forty for a domestic.”
“These were domestic birds gone zombie. Big.”
“Say the bull weighs two thousand pounds. That’s fifty times bigger than a turkey, so he’ll need fifty times the salt.”
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
“I see a problem, Sam. We’ve only got thirty cartridges.”
“And we’ve shot ten already.”
“Maybe the bull will get bored.”
“I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”
“You might have—”
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
“That was the biggest hit yet, Sam.”
“Is the tree tilting?”
“It—”
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
“It’s like riding a bucking bronco.” Sam loaded his last two cartridges. “I’m out.”
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 15
“Here’s four more.” Steve reloaded his gun.
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
“It’s definitely tilting.”
“I think the roots are pulling out, Sam.”
WHAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
They could hear the tree creaking and cracking as it leaned farther and farther. Sam’s branch above his head was now behind him. They’d tilted to six feet off the ground.
“Here he comes again!”
BLAM! BLAM! They fired as the bull charged.
WHAM! The tree’s limbs hit the creek bank.
BLAM! BLAM! The bull headed off, shaking its bloody head, still red eyed.
Sam reloaded. “I’m out again.”
“I’ve got two left. Plus the four in our guns—we’ve got six shots left. Let’s make them count.”
“Look. The tree roots are out of the ground.”
“Maybe that’ll stop him. We’re only five feet off the ground.”
“Here he comes, Steve!”
BLAM! BLAM!
WHUMP! The bull rammed the wad of tree roots and earth, flattening the tree into the banks. Their branch was a comfy seat, two feet off the ground. Sam braced his feet on the soil.
Your Gift Chapter 1 – Part 16
BLAM! BLAM! Ka-BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Ka-BLAM!
“All gone, Sam.”
“Oh, my shoulder!”
The bull shook its head again and trotted off in the moonlight. It lay in the mud, its red eyes stalking them. Slowly they closed as he drifted off to sleep.
“Now what, Steve?”
“Hmmm. I’ve got a tow chain in my truck. Let’s get it and chain him to that tree.”
“OK.”
With the chain in Steve’s hand, they stealthily approached the bull.
“Chain it to the tree first, Sam.”
Sam looped it around the stout maple and clipped it to itself.
“I don’t think this’ll hold a zombie bull,” he whispered.
“Mebbe it won’t have to. Mebbe it’ll be a normal bull now. Let me tie it to the horns.”
Steve silently, slowly worked the chain around the bull’s horns. He quickly cinched it and snapped it together.
The bull snorted and went on sleeping.
“It’s almost dawn. I’ll go and check with my neighbor and see if they’re missing a bull. You stay here. If he looks like he’ll escape, give him the flamethrower.”
“Will do.”
Sam watched his prey from the tree trunk the bull had knocked down. He bit his lip. If the bull woke up, its zombie strength would make short work of the chain. He looked around for trees and spotted another oak up the bank. He rose, when he heard a snort.
There was the bull glaring at him, tow chain dangling from his horns. With black eyes.
Bull’s-eye. He wasn’t a zombie anymore. They’d dezombified him.”
Copyright (C) 2025 Andy Zach. All rights reserved.
