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Authors: Carl R Cart

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ROTTERS ALPHA CONTACT

06:05 p.m. Zulu

The Congo

Democratic Republic of the Congo

Vogan
hefted his pack and led the other two to the west, through the giant mahogany trees. He seemed to know where he was going.

“Where is he leading us?” Jerry asked.

“We are still going towards Gatou,” Angel answered.

“I need to find a victim of the virus,”
Vogan stated. “We’ll find one near the village.”

They walked on through the trees; Jerry had a lot to think about.

“What are the Kindu?” he asked Angel.

“Nothing,” his guide replied, but the big man shuddered.

“Tell me about them,” Jerry asked kindly. “I want to know.”

“Very well,” Angel said. “When I was very small, an elder of my village told a tale of his youth, long, long ago. He spoke of the
Kindu, the accursed dead. As I told you, they were a punishment from the gods. The dead would not remain dead; they roamed the forest, looking for warm flesh to tear and rend. It was said that their souls were trapped in their rotting bodies and could find no peace. In their anger they slew the living, even their own kin. They broke the old taboo; they ate the flesh of men.”

“We have ghost stories too,” Jerry replied.

Angel lowered his voice and added, “These were not stories told just to frighten children, Jerry. They were told as a warning. I have tried to forget them, they cannot be true.” He said no more.

Vogan
led them on until they reemerged on the track that led to Gatou. “I saw many of the villagers upon the road near here. We must be very careful,” he warned, “I don’t know much about their senses, but the Pygmies warned me that they will follow a living man for long distances, and that a single bite or scratch will kill. They say that there is no cure, only a sure restless death.” 

Jerry remained skeptical, but he would defer to
Vogan’s warnings for now; he seemed serious enough.

The men crept forward along the track, very close to the trees. As they approached the outskirts of the village,
Vogan stopped them. He hid his pack in the trees and suggested to Angel that he do the same. Vogan pulled a short length of pipe from his gear, and brought out a leather pouch and a tapered plastic vial.

“What are those?” Jerry asked.

“A blow gun and darts,” Vogan whispered back. He pulled four wicked looking steel darts from the pouch and deftly dipped them in the vial, being careful to shake the excess liquid from their tips. He held the bottle on the palm of his hand for Jerry to see. “This is the paralytic I told you about,” he explained. The liquid was thick, with a yellowish tint. He resealed the bottle and slipped it into a shirt pocket. 

“Follow me, and whatever happens, be quiet!” he hissed. “Any loud noises will bring them all after us. Angel, keep that cannon strapped to your back.”

“Wait!” Jerry insisted. “If an insinuative poison works on the virus’ victims, it proves that they are alive,” he pointed out. “Poisons delivered by a dart are carried by the bloodstream, and as you know, that requires a pulse! You are disproving your theory right now!”

Vogan
growled, “Don’t lecture me on basic biology, you dilettante. This poison is extremely powerful. The dose on these darts would prove fatal to humans, but as you will see, it barely affects the infected villagers. Just watch and learn. Come on.”

Jerry wanted to argue more but
Vogan was already moving slowly forward along the track. The biologist crouched down low, and slipped smoothly from tree to tree. Angel followed him, a huge gliding shadow. Jerry did his best, but he was clumsy and loud compared to the two woodsmen. After a few minutes of stealthy movement Vogan stopped. Angel and Jerry froze in place behind him.

A single figure was moving slowly down the road towards them. His movements were jerky and stiff, and his posture seemed unnatural, even to Jerry. He approached their position slowly, then stopped and turned
towards them. He was very close.

Jerry gasped in shock as the man slowly twisted his face to them. His eye sockets had been gutted. The flesh of his face hung in tatters and strips, and his trachea was clearly visible in his shredded throat. His ragged clothing was stained with blackened blood.

Other Zombie Books Also Available From Spore Press

ROTTERS

by Carl R Cart

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EACZR1Q

 


Rotters is a great combination of zombie horror, action adventure and science fiction. Cart's book reminded me more of Congo by Michael Crichton than any of the recent zombie books I've read. The quick paced, non-stop action had me flipping the pages as fast as possible to see what was going to happen next. Cart has an encyclopedic knowledge of military hardware and it's pretty obvious he knows how to field strip a rifle himself.”

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Amazon Review

 

 

ANTI-SENTIENT

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After reading only a few pages, I was totally engrossed. When taking a break, which I had to do every so often since this is not only a genuine page-turner, but also acutely intense, the details of how this book came about kept arising.” … “There are some unexpected and fabulous plot twists. There are some relationships that become acutely touching, yet have nothing to do with the "zombies", but unreconciled differences. There are surprise revelations about characters that can certainly take the reader aback and certainly make these events "page turners" in themselves.”

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Gerry
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