Hello Darkness my old friend. Yup, the name of the second book in my dystopian, first-person zombie novella series is – you guessed it right – Darkness! Following on the somber premise laid out in the first book – Decay, Darkess continues the story of humanz. And there’s an amazing cover, too, once again conceived by the kickass artist Anton Kokarev.
No rest for the righteous. With great delight, I have commenced to write the final piece in the best-named trilogy of all times, Woes and Hose. The third book will be called, wait for it, The Daring Adventures of Amorous Prince Dietrich. And it’s already 25% done!
Ah, this is the question that every author has asked themselves, at some point in their career. Now, I personally believe that one should not write books for money – as opposed to getting paid to write, ’tis a subtle difference. One should write with love and passion, and if a work makes it into the big beyond, then it’s a nice bonus. A really nice bonus. Now, regardless of what your motives are, the question remains. And the answer is: no, of course not, don’t be silly.
I know you’re angry. I know you feel like I betrayed you. But we both know that’s not the case. This is war, and as luck would have it, we fight for different sides in this sorry conflict. We both know what it takes—whatever it takes—to finish the mission. I could not have given up mine, and I know you know and respect that. You would have done the same. Had I given up, I would have lost your respect, and no matter how insincere that may sound to you, I find that important.
Lee Qiang smiled. “That facade finally crumbling, eh?”
Sveta made a wry face. “I have seen prisoner exchanges before. Sometimes they go badly wrong. I’d rather be crossing the Volga River in a Taifun. At least there I had the feeling of being in control.”
Is that what’s bothering you? Lee Qiang wondered. That you are no longer in control? That you cannot manipulate anymore? That you’re going back to your side, which may not look fondly on your getting captured?
To the untrained eye, the differences between our side and their side were subtle. New flags and uniforms, new types of technology and weaponry. But it was still a war zone. Rubble, checkpoints, walls of gabions, machine gun turrets, sniper nests.
Ignoring the wounded, Lee Qiang tuned his mind back to the fight. They had to neutralize the armor first. If they did not, they would all die.
He tried to close his fist. It worked. He opened it. A spongy feeling, but his muscles responded. His sleeve was drenched with blood. The fabric was ripped in two places where the shrapnel had cut through.
Lee Qiang rose, using his left arm to pull himself up against the greasy side of the all-terrain vehicle. The cannon breech was closed. Lonya must have reloaded a fresh shell before the Type 89 fired. Lee Qiang positioned himself behind the gunner sight, aiming the iron at the AFV.
“Well, ain’t that bloody marvelous,” Lip whispered.
Yes, but what now. “What can you tell us, Cliff?”
The engineer was holding the Geiger counter toward the blast. It did not show any elevated readings, beyond what they expected to find this close to Orenburg. “We did receive an initial dose of infrared and gamma. Does anyone have any burning sensation on their skin or impaired vision?”