Plague Nation
Authors: Dana Fredsti
“If you like your heroines smart and sassy and kick ass capable, Ashley Parker has what you need. And
Plague Nation
is exactly what the zombie genre needed.”
JOE MCKINNEY, Stoker Award-winning author of FLESH EATERS and INHERITANCE
“Plague Nation
is a rollicking zombie thriller packed with action, chills, and biting humor. Brava!”
JONATHAN MABERRY,
New York Times
bestselling author of PATIENT ZERO, FIRE AND ASH, and DEAD OF NIGHT
“In
Plague Town,
Dana Fredsti has created something truly unique in the world of horror fiction - a cool, hip zombie apocalypse novel. With crisp writing, a cast of memorable characters, and tons of undead combat action, it’s a zombie lover’s literary dream. When the dead rise, I’ll want the Wild Cards by my side.”
ROGER MA, author of ZOMBIE COMBAT MANUAL
“One of the Top Ten Zombie Releases of 2012.”
BARNESANDNOBLE.COM
“A gruesomely good read that has me panting for the next book in the series. As hard to put down as a swarm of zombies. When’s the next one?”
KAT RICHARDSON, bestselling author of the GREYWALKER novels
“Fredsti’s writing is razor sharp as her heroes fight off the horde while fighting their attraction for each other.”
STACEY GRAHAM, author of THE ZOMBIE DATING GUIDE
“Plague Town
is a fast-moving zombie tale that reads like a blast of energy. If you like zombie apocalypse stories, this is a must read!”
LOIS GRESH,
New York Times
Best-Selling Author of BLOOD AND ICE and ELDRITCH EVOLUTIONS
“Dana Fredsti has created a world as familiar as our own back yard and populated it with recognizable people we care about... and zombies.
Plague Town
will have you turning pages fast... and checking the locks on all the doors.”
RAY GARTON, author of LIVE GIRLS AND SEX and VIOLENCE IN HOLLYWOOD
“As adorable an end of the world as you’re liable to get... a brisk, witty ultraviolent romantic gurlventure...”
GINA MCQUEEN, author of OPPOSITE SEX and APOCALYPSE AS FOREPLAY
“Chills and thrills for that season when you’re looking for—chills and thrills!”
HEATHER GRAHAM, author of HALLOWED GROUND and the FLYNN BROTHERS TRILOGY
“Not only is the prose good, but it’s seasoned with a dash of steamy romance and an excellent sense of originality and pacing. it survives the zombie apocalypse in style.”
MISPRINTED PAGES
“More action than season two of
The Walking Dead.”
HORROR TALK
“Revoltingly gory in just the right way, and I’ll be picking up the sequel when it rolls around.”
HOUSE OF GEEKERY
“Read it—I zombie dare you. Fun, fast, read.”
AFFAIRS MAGAZINE
“A diverting, entertaining zombie siege novel—complete with all the delicious, bone-crunching, blood-gushing awesomeness a zombie lover could ever want.”
BOOK SMUGGLERS
“While
Plague Town
is a really fun and action-packed ride, one cannot dismiss the darkness at the center of it all. There are sections laced throughout written from the perspective of the innocent people as they are turning into zombies. an emotional core that grounds the novel and keeps it from being just a shallow action/horror romp.” STRANGE AMUSEMENTS
“If you love zombies, strong, sarcastic heroines with heart, and fight scenes that will knock your socks off, you’ll devour
Plague Town
!”
MY BOOKISH WAYS
“Delightfully gruesome.”
NERDS IN BABELAND
“Described as Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets zombies, which is definitely accurate, although does not do nearly enough service to the book’s skillful delivery of action, humor, gore and romance.”
STARPULSE
“Chock-full of gore and zombie romance... a fresh spin on an otherwise tired genre.”
DAILY GRINDHOUSE
“It’s funny, scary, gory, sexy and goes a mile a minute.”
CULTURE BRATS
“If you like butt-kicking heroines with a fair dose of snark and humor, then you’re going to love Ashley.”
GEEK MOM
DANA FREDSTI
THE ASHLEY PARKER NOVELS
Plague Town
Plague Nation
Plague World
(forthcoming)
Murder For Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon
PLAGUE NATION
Print edition ISBN: 9780857686367
E-book edition ISBN: 9780857686398
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP
First edition: April 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Dana Fredsti asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2013 Dana Fredsti
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Staff Sergeant Nick Fredsti
with the 82nd Airborne, killed in action in Afghanistan while serving his country, and his sister, Sarah Fredsti, one of the bravest people I know.
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS
BELLEVILLE, WISCONSIN“And now for some more bad news. Ready?”
Egg Shen,
Big Trouble in Little China
Bart shuffled out onto the front porch to collect the morning paper, cursing when he saw that their idiot paperboy had once again managed to pitch it nowhere near the house. Instead it lay in a pile of slush in the middle of the front yard, meaning he would have to get his slippers soaking wet to get the damn thing.
Grumbling, he made his way carefully down the slippery steps, moderately grateful that Belleville was experiencing a relatively mild winter, and it wasn’t actually snowing any more. Early November in Wisconsin wasn’t always so gentle. Even so, the sky was a solid gray layer of clouds.
Bart managed to retrieve the paper without mishap, and turned to go back into his house, but paused as he noticed a pile of newspapers on Lucy Swenson’s front stoop. His first thought was how come the little shit of a paperboy had managed to get his neighbor’s papers right up against the front door.
Then he frowned. Why hadn’t Swenson picked up her paper? Bart counted at least three in their plastic bags, lying in the half-melted snow on the cement porch.
No, this wasn’t like Swenson at all. Hell, Bart could set a timer by her daily routine. Porch light off at 6:30 a.m., step outside at 7, always wearing a scowl that frightened small children... Pick up her paper. Grumble something under her breath—usually about the neighborhood dogs ruining her yard. Go back inside and slam the door. She only reappeared when Belleville’s lone postal carrier delivered her mail, and harangued him about all sorts of crap that had nothing to do with the postal service.
Porch light on at 6 p.m. sharp—even in the summer.
With this last thought, Bart realized his neighbor’s porch light was still on. No, that wasn’t right. Could she have fallen and hurt herself?
As
much as he disliked Lucy Swenson, the cantankerous old bitch was still his neighbor. And in a place as small as Belleville, people looked after one another.
“Well, shit.”
Bart sighed and pulled his terrycloth robe tightly around him, retying the belt in a secure knot before carefully making his way onto his neighbor’s property, avoiding piles of muddy slush. Even so, the cold wind gusting across the yard penetrated both robe and flannel pajamas, sending an unwelcome chill straight through his bones.
As
he approached the porch, Bart’s eyebrows shot up as he peered at the mailbox mounted to one of the porch supports. It was stuffed to overflowing. A chill tickled his spine that had nothing to do with the wind.
Careful to avoid patches of ice on the cement steps, Bart navigated his way to Lucy’s porch and rapped on the front door.
“Miss Swenson?” He’d known his neighbor for years, long enough to call her by her first name, but she’d have a conniption fit if he did it. He knocked again, more vigorously. “Miss Swenson?”
He held his breath, and thought he heard something. Bart pressed his ear to the door. It was a thumping sound, followed by a noise as if something was being dragged across the floor.
“Well, shit.”
He went around the porch until he’d reached the living room window. His view inside was obscured by snowy white eyelet curtains, with hardly any space between the panels. The interior of the house was dark. He thought he saw something moving inside, but it was hard to tell.
