EXTRACT FOR
Tales From The Uprising
(Christopher Newman)

Tales From the Uprising



How long could you survive, when it's you on the menu? 



Explore the horrific future of the living dead in these tales set in the world of Christopher Newman's UPRISING. This collection of seven ghoulish tales of terror will walk you with the living and the dead, from the very beginning of the Zombie Uprising to the end.



We learn The Perils of Journalism when a group of newscasters witness the zombies rising and become trapped too quickly for them to escape. 



Plots and Plans will suggest to you that even undying ghouls find that using such a tragedy for personal gain is fruitless.



Vengeance Bites indeed, when the lawless go looting and pillaging when they should be packing up and leaving. Some things aren't worth your trouble to steal. 



For those who love their pets, Newman presents Oh Shit-the Dog!- depicting a man's dilemma over whether to stay safe or rescue his beloved canine.



It's Bath Time when an Army Ranger squad is ordered to seal up the drainage pipes after the zombies have been contained. Combat in close quarters is less fun than you'd think.



9-1-1, Can I Help You? A lonely operator's night is quickly escalated into utter terror as she tries to coordinate a rescue for a woman trapped in a city crawling with the living dead. 



And finally, for all those who think "every man for himself" is a good motto to live by, there's the example of One Shot Barney. This story illustrates the consequences to those too selfish to help out their fellow man.



Excerpt



Mort woke in a start from the unintentional nap he had take while watching the boob-tube. The television was still on; the reports and information scrolling along the bottom of the screen confirmed his worst fears; it was a full-blown disaster. Wiping at his mouth, he heard the desperate sound that had broken his sleep. He had been shocked into wakefulness by the sound of a dog barking. His eyes flew open and he stood up too quickly, spilling the heavy riot gun and warm soda onto the floor.



"Oh shit, the dog!" he exclaimed with a voice thick from disuse. "I forgot about poor Lady!"



Staggering to the back bedroom, he pulled aside the heavy curtains to see his golden retriever bitch Lady barking and tugging against her chain. Mort checked his watch with trembling fingers, pushing his left flannel shirt sleeve aside. It was after one o'clock in the afternoon! That was the usual time he went out back to take his dog for a walk.



"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he swore at himself. "How the hell did I go and forget something as important as Lady!"



He began pacing in the empty bedroom, trying to figure out what exactly to do. He knew it was too late to shut her up, she was braying and yelping like a moron. The ghouls would hear her and flock to see what was going on, or better yet, who the canine was barking at. He took another look past the thick shades; the backyard was ringed by a heavy wooden fence, but he knew the walkers could easily push it down if enough of them got involved. Pity tore at his heart as his dog looked up at the window and let out a long, mournful howl. He stumbled back and put his head in his hands, sorrow welling up inside of him.



"Oh God what to do, what to do?!" he nearly sobbed. "I can't leave her out there to die of thirst! I sure as hell can't go out and bring her in either!"



A thought occurred to him that was quickly dismissed, even though it was both the humane and expedient thing to do to solve this current dilemma.



"I ain't shootin' my dog!" he responded angrily to the solution swirling in his skull.



She'll draw more zombies if you don't. They'll eventually take an interest in the house and get inside if enough show up. Do you really want to take that chance? the rational part of his brain told him.