It's Book Review Wednesday, and I'm going to stray a bit from my usual haunt (fantasy) to head way out into the left field of horror. This isn't your typical zombie book, but it's well worth the read.

DC's Dead

A small cabin in the mountains of Virginia, once a refuge from the hectic rush of city life, may now be the only refuge for life for these self-labeled DC Freaks. Not your mama's Cabin in the Woods.

My Review: 4.5 Stars

A group of six DC locals finds themselves in a zombie apocalypse, but how many of them can survive long enough to reach safety? Is there such a thing? The undead cannot be stopped, cannot be avoided. But zombies are not the only threats to survive! The fast-paced story will have you on the edge of your seat. Prepare to devour this book in a single sitting—you will not want to put it down! A zombie horror story that will sink its undead fangs into your imagination!

Here's a Taste:

The reporter continued to speak for a bit about the fallen soldiers buried in Arlington when the camera picked up some activity near the graves. "The President is due to speak in a few moments. Wait a minute! There appears to be some sort of commotion going on down there, some sort of a fight." The microphone was picking up the sounds of people screaming while it appeared that the mourners were being attacked. "Who the fuck would attack a Memorial Day celebration?" Fish asked, looking confused as he took another drag from his menthol. "I have no idea," Bobby said, as he popped the top on yet another Mountain Dew and drank deeply, wiping any stray droplets from his dark goatee with the back of his hand. The chaos at Arlington continued to escalate, while the reporter was trying to encourage the cameraman to get the best shots possible without putting himself in any danger. A hero without concern for himself, he was not. The mic started picking up an arrhythmic slapping sound, like someone beating a tenderloin chop against a sidewalk. "What is that? No, it can’t be." Carl Mackenzie, the reporter, looks around confusedly, a look of denial mixed with absolute horror as realization hit. Pointing behind the camera, the reporter started visibly shivering. The cameraman rapidly panned around, focusing the camera and microphone on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It sounded like the slapping noise was coming from inside the Tomb, the sound of many hands beating on stone. The camera turned back to the running crowd, zooming in on the details, FCC be damned. The screen filled with the decomposing features of a large man in a rotten US Marine Corps dress uniform, taking a large bite from a matronly woman's throat. Bright red arterial blood sprayed across his worm-eaten features. The camera hit the ground, skidding until it stopped at a skewed angle and pointing at the fleeing cameraman. He had only gotten a few yards when he was taken down by a group of what appeared to be Green Berets, their ragged dress uniforms hanging from their emaciated frames, the berets staying in place, stitched on by the undertaker. The Presidential motorcade could be seen speeding off in the distance. The audio switched back to the anchor in the studio. “Let's see if Bob Thompson at the Kennedy Memorial can shed any more light on the situation. Bob, what's going on over at there?" The picture changed to yet another skewed view, this time of the memorial built to honor the nation's youngest President who was struck down in his prime. The screen picked up shuffling figures in uniforms and formal wear alike, slouching along but paying the camera no mind. A zombie clothed in the dress uniform of the US Air Force stumbled over the uneven stonework around the Eternal Flame at the center of the Memorial. It fell face first onto the metal gas jet that was the Eternal Flame. The rotting flesh extinguished the fire.

About the Author:

Michael Fisher, Fish to his friends and family, has worn many hats in his long life. He’s done a little of everything, including US Navy Hospital Corpsman, club DJ, security specialist, psychiatric technician, painter, and currently, father, Mason, author and tattooer, not necessarily in that order. He has a love of ugly Hawaian shirts. He also bears a passing resemblance to Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski. Michael is on staff at J. Ellington Ashton Press as an author, editor and also designs book covers under the name Meister Arthur Dunkel. He is also a member of the Horror Writers Association. Find the book on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/DCs-Dead-Michael-Fisher-ebook/dp/B00N738A68/ Read Fish's thoughts on his website: epicfishtales.com, Connect with him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MichaelFisherAuthor/