Among the Fallen: Genesis

BOOK ONE

Written by Scott Beadle

Co-written by Ross Shortall

Edited and additional Content by Christina Carroll

Smashwords Edition

Proofed by Nicole Kelly

ISBN: 9781301016228

Book Zone - Zombie Collections

Post-Apocalyptic, zombie nightmares come in many forms and very rarely come with anything new. Among the fallen: Genesis rewrites the rules of zombie horror. This is an amazingly written masterpiece, with some frantic, shocking and some superbly written set pieces and events delivered to you with sadistic creativity. This will make a great movie one day, maybe even a game. Already, I am on tender hooks waiting for the next part. If zombies, ghosts and demons are your thing, then ATF GENESIS will probably put a smile on your face

Seb Shaw

CREATORS WORDS, REASONS & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First of all, I must thank all those that have bought this book, whether it’s the kindle version, physical version or whatever other versions are out there. Secondly, I must thank those who took the time out to review the book on Goodreads and Amazon, etc. I really didn’t expect it to be that much of a hit with people (although my editor had complete faith in it, as much as it drove Christina nuts with my strange writing style). Reviews are always good and appreciated, even the negative ones, I can’t please everyone, right?

As a child, I was always different. I had imaginary friends like most people, but for me, they followed me into my early teens, and very occasionally, I even see them now.

Some say they are Shadow People, others call them ghosts, but I always respected them enough not to label them. It was a secret world, one of which, that my parents ignored through denial and assumed I grew out of it. But they are still about, although admittedly, a sighting is rare.

One of these friends was called Alex, and she told me all about a dark realm where the Fallen reside. When I was a child (about seven years old) she told me fantastic stories of these Fallen entities, and strange laws that seem to be hidden in our very closed world. Imagine learning at seven, that you’ll soon die, and beside your realm is another, one with a hunger for humans. Of course, I’m not trying to tell you she was telling the truth. Alex could have been trying to amuse and entertain me with wild stories as friends do. But all I want to ask you is, what if?

Although the zombie element and the story we have added is for your entertainment purposes, all the content about the Fallen, their laws, their rituals, even the existence of the realms, all that is true to the word as I have remembered it. I’m pretty sure some trolls out there are going to shoot me down, one star the book, and all the rest of it. But I don’t hold grudges, and I apologise now if you don’t enjoy it.

However, for all those that did appreciate it, you’ll be pleased to know the second part is almost ready, with the third to be released in 2015. I promise you, I won’t drag it out longer than necessary, I’m not in this to make money, I just want to free my mind by sharing these stunning revelations I was told.

I would like to thank many people. All you guys for one, for taking a leap of faith and reading this great story of strangeness. First, I must thank Christina Carroll, my editor and one of my co-writers. She’s a brilliant editor, and she finds all the continuity errors and deletes any stuff that may bore you. She’s a great lass and I really appreciate her work and time more than she will ever know.

Secondly, I have to thank Ross Shortall, my best friend and he was even my best man at my wedding. Ross helps me come up with the story event ideas, good and unique set pieces and action scenes. He’s a huge movie buff, so all his ideas have a pretty big part in regards to action and I always look forward to reading through his book of notes and ideas. He’s the only person I know that still writes with a pen and paper.

Mel Hegarty deserves a thank-you too. She’s a zombie expert and provides the advice when it comes to the mythology behind the zombie. Our zombies, to her request, are old-school. They don’t run, dig, communicate or any of the other silly stuff they do in movies lately. These are classic zombies, back when they were scary.

Thanks again all, even if you’ve simply taken the time out to preview it, it’s all appreciated.

I hope Among the Fallen: Genesis, corrupts your imagination and makes you think, if nothing else.

May your God go with you.

Scott Beadle

We are opposed around the world by a monolithic and ruthless conspiracy that relies primarily on covert means for expanding its sphere of influence - on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerrillas by night instead of armies by day

John F. Kennedy

27th April 1961, two and a half years before his assassination (November 22, 1963)

INTRODUCTION

Winston Churchill was once mocked for his growing warnings about the Nazi threat and the rise of Hitler. He was burlesqued and railed by the British media for his worries, while his colleagues thought that Adolf Hitler could simply be negotiated with if he became a problem.

There was also a time when Edgar Cayce predicted the Stock Market Crash of 1929, as well as warning us of World War II. These warnings were ignored despite coming from sources that could be considered credible. So, it is of no surprise that the warnings coming from cults and religious fanatics in early 2012 were largely ignored.

Warnings, no matter where the sources come from, are often laughed at as mere conspiracy theories. Even now, there are rumors of satanic devil worshippers, the Illuminati, reptilian races and threats of a one world government.

The event that occurred at Blackwater has a few names; The Blackwater Incident, The Millennium Plague and some even call it The Genocide Event. Of course, the last was the product of internet rumors, conspiracy gurus and lovers of fear-porn. The Blackwater event was the epitome of fear-porn, and just as some like to watch well-oiled buxom bodies online to get their thrills, others get the same grind from reading documents based upon terrifying events and then finger pointing at secret shadow governments. The sad fact at the heart of it all is that no one knows for sure what happened in Blackwater – nobody in the public domain at least.

The ‘death’ of the city has been a great loss. If you were to callously put aside the deaths of three million citizens and concentrate only on global economics, you would have a slow but steady fall in market shares, government funding, and even the manufacture of numerous consumer products. The Beaumont Corporation was the heart and soul of Blackwater, and the damage seemed almost irreversible. The cold fact is that it was hit hard, and people were too quick to blame the Beaumont Corporation. I guess this is largely due to its research facility on Naccoon Island, and exacerbated by the paranoia caused by video games, movies and the overly-alarmist media. Generally, people do not trust these insidious corporations, especially those conducting research of a classified nature, such as the corporation in question. However, over the last year, the Beaumont Corporation has steadily resumed its growth and things are slowly returning to normal, despite the loss of its headquarters in Blackwater.

The city itself remains quarantined to this day, as do the neighboring towns and the freeway that runs parallel to the White Hope Mountains. The Blackwater event is often likened to the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. But the chilling truth is that in Chernobyl, people had the time to escape, resulting in only a small number of deaths.

There was more to the Blackwater event than was reported at the time, and more recent reports are completely contradictory to what was claimed back in July, 2012. The media coverage depicted an illness, a plague - something so devastating and so powerful that the President himself called for the Blackwater quarantine. But these days, they discount all that. We got it wrong, they say. It was a radiation leak, they say. The official statement is that it was a Nuclear accident, similar to the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster in March of 2011 – but many will disagree.

Blackwater is now known simply as The City of Ghosts. It is a well-earned name and you would be hard-pressed to find anyone that would not pull a frown at the mere mention of Blackwater.

Beyond the security walls there are still more than three million citizens lying dead, exactly as they were when the event took place. It is often compared to the city of Pompeii, a partially buried Roman town-city near modern Naples in the Italian region of Campania. Pompeii was destroyed and buried under twenty feet of ash and pumice during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. People were found lying in the street, sitting in chairs and all other normal positions - perfectly preserved against time itself.

The same could be said for Blackwater. Some have speculated that the radiation would have been so intense that the people dead in the street would be likewise frozen in time; still holding hands, still eating, still walking their dogs or whatever other mundane tasks humans do on any given day. Nobody has seen this of course, it is still mostly rumor.

Anyone local will have heard a story that starts off with My friend knows someone... and that is the closest you will get to the actual facts. Nobody can safely turn around and say they have been there, nobody would even dare. And this leads to the second string of rumors that allege anyone who has been there (or claimed they have) has gone missing - is this just another rumor? Sadly, it is impossible to say. But strangely, it is now a year on and there are more urban legends about Blackwater than any other city in the United States, or the world.

There are so many reasons why the incident is steeped in so much mystery and doubt. Some say that they have witnessed military aircraft entering Blackwater airspace on numerous occasions. One recent witness has gone on record claiming to have seen three or four Gunships enter with only one returning just hours later.

Why is it that a year on, and especially on quiet nights that people can be heard crying, moaning and grumbling from within the walls of Blackwater? If they are, after all, supposed to be dead? Why can the macabre gathering be heard from miles away?

And then there is the red sky.

What is that all about?

Again, the official report claims the phenomena is radioactive leakage - really? So why is it hanging over the city? Clouds move, don’t they? If it was a radiation leak, then why do people still fish in the same adjoining waters? Why haven’t there been any cases of radiation poisoning?

There are many theories as to what happened; amazing conspiracy theories and shocking stories all over the web among communities and lone gunmen that blame everyone ranging from the government, to the Illuminati, to satanic cults, and even terrorists. But very little of what’s claimed can be substantiated by cold hard evidence-driven data.

If it was the government that was responsible, you would expect them to sanitize the area. It would be costly, but they could have the land cleaned up and made safe in just ten years or so. Some would argue that it could ruin the land, but since nobody is using it there doesn't appear to be much of an argument against it. The Illuminati, of course, are said to have bigger plans. Creating a one world government being one, and attacking Blackwater would be somewhat pointless to them, unless of course they took control of the city.

As for the satanic cults, again, what would be the point? If summoning the devil was that easy, it would have been done years ago. There is not one day that goes by when some drunk or a clinically insane yahoo doesn't try some form of raising the devil. It's just a myth.

A terrorist attack is more likely, but it is all too easy to blame terrorists for anything these days, and no group or active cell has claimed responsibility for the event. The attack on Blackwater would be too huge a trophy for any group to stay silent about it. But there still hasn’t been a single group, or person or active military entity willing to take the glory or responsibility for the Backwater Incident.

Shortly after the incident on the freeway where hundreds of people lost their lives, the media claim a rucksack was found in one of their vehicles. It was claimed that within the bag were files, documents and diaries, all pointing to an event that goes far beyond any radioactive leak. Many of these documents are available online if you search hard enough, but they were largely discredited by the government as a cruel hoax, and most of the world's population swallowed that as a fact. The freeway incident is considered the most intriguing part of the Blackwater event, mainly because of the military conflict, which was seen for miles around, could not be explained. The air was full of U.S. bombers and fighters, the repercussions and explosions of which could be heard from the next town. Survivors claim the military opened fire on civilians in an attempt to make them disband from the area. More outlandish stories have come from witnesses who claim to have seen a battle between the gods just before sunrise. In addition, the fact that the freeway is not even part of Blackwater lends further mystery to an already enigmatic event. The families of those killed on the freeway that morning were never given any real explanation, and to add an insult to injury, the bodies of the victims were never released to their loved ones for burial.

There are more irregularities of course – things that some would say are mere coincidence. In the month of July 2012, more than five-thousand mediums and spiritualists were rushed into hospital emergency departments after suddenly slipping into comas without any medical explanation. Add this to the number of cult mass suicides globally, and you have something more profound than a simple radioactive leak.

We will never know, at least that is my opinion. We have more chance of the President openly admitting full UFO and extra-terrestrial disclosure than knowing the truth about what actually happened in Blackwater. But there are crusaders, lone wolves and conspiracy theory junkies that have made a career from investigating the events in Blackwater.

All I can say is that only God knows what happened that week, and may he strike down with bitter vengeance upon all those responsible. Because I know for a fact that there were a lot of children orphaned that week and many, many devastated relatives who lost loved ones. Maybe I am wrong, maybe one day there will be a full disclosure of what actually happened to Blackwater. But I cannot see it happening, not in my lifetime at least.

There is one cold truth that is obviously and irrepressibly evident, one of which, the American government cannot escape. The American government failed the citizens of Blackwater. At the time, we were so up to our necks in crap in Afghanistan that we never considered or had even prepared for such an obvious attack on American soil. The American people were tired; families were losing their fathers, their sons, their brothers. We simply didn’t have the resources to get the military into Blackwater to carry out any effective evacuation, and of those that did get in there, not one came back. We made mistakes, the President admitted recently, and he was right. We went in with our eyes closed, and sadly, they were never to open again. You would have thought that after 9/11 we would be prepared for anything, but the fact is, Blackwater happened literally overnight.

Is there anyone that can be held accountable for Blackwater?

Michael Alan Ross

13th April 2013

PROLOGUE

2 HOURS UNTIL SUNRISE

I had never before asked the question about my ensuing death. It was never something that had ever crossed my mind. It was a topic I had never approached, pondered, or explored. All I did in life was drift through, minute after minute, lacking a care in the world, or a question of doubt. But little did I know that it was this unexplored subject that would’ve led me to where I am now. I wish I had more to say on the subject, but when it happens – there isn’t a lot that can be said. It’s like being in a weird dream that disappears once your eyes open, a daydream of past experiences and moments of levity that serve no purpose but to inflict heart breaking pain. I can’t explain what it’s like. It’s not the light at the end of the tunnel experience that so many survivors recall. It’s totally beyond that, and I was never given the choice to turn back. I was rushed through the afterlife before I had the chance to speak, to question, and then I was dropped back and hidden away, left hanging in the darkness – left there until needed.

Sunrise is less than two hours away, and I stare upon the multi-storey car park as the sky darkens above it, watching the dead as they gather all around me. They are silent and cold, unremitting – but strangely, they don’t attack. Instead, they stand still and emotionless, swaying back and forth as the rain hammers down around us, huddled together around the empty road leading to the car park’s entrance. I used to pity them, but I look at them now with disdain, a bitter and almost ruthless hatred as they ignore me, waiting as if they have all been switched off by an unforeseeable power or vile master. Every now and then, one will look up and glare at me without blinking, the water running into its eyes without even the slightest reaction. Their dead skin falls away as it wilts in the downpour, their exposed wounds and bone glistening in the morbid and feeble light. I can’t smell them anymore, or if I can, then it’s something I no longer notice – something that is obviously now just common place.

The city creaks and rasps as if it’s struggling to breathe. The bleeding metal surfaces of the street cry out in the head beating rain, and the strange, pointless cages and bridge networks drop feeble shadows all around me. The city is ready for the crossover, its souls harvested and prepared – it is now time.

Just a few hours ago, I stumbled through these streets lost and haunted, sobbing like a little girl as I refused to accept the truth I discovered, and the fate that was handed to me. Back in that bleak and fearful time, destiny was a word that I had never used or even thought of. But now, I know what destiny truly means – I now realize what it is to be needed and relied upon.

If you were to ask me at what point I turned; the catalyst of becoming this entity … I would have to say the Police Precinct, that was when the game changed for me; that’s when I started to become what I am now. Before that moment, I was lost within a world I refused to accept, a world that had a place only in the darkest of nightmares. But after that, the rules changed and I became one with the death and macabre backdrop around me; it all became, dare I say – natural!

What am I now?

A good question and even I have no idea. All I know now is that I thrive on the pain around me. I enjoy the blood I spill and absorb, and I hunt the dead with relentless narcissism and ecstatic pleasure. It’s this city that’s the root of it all; it has bad blood, for a better choice of words. Somehow, it’s connected to us all, throbbing through our veins like a breeding cancer, like a living entity that poisons and curses all those that once lived on its soil and flourished within its boundaries. It’s a portal, an ancient gateway that my earliest ancestors, my bloodline, used to communicate with the dead and summon these Fallen – ‘the Old Ones’ – allowing me to be brought back to this cursed citadel that our family spent centuries building.

As I look at the crowds of the dead, I can see their numbers growing. A rug of festering and decaying heads fill every alleyway, side-street and avenue for miles around. They stand with their heads lowered, blind to the prey they seek, collapsing under their own weight and dropping from sight.

What are they waiting for?

They have been hunting me the whole night – but now they just look lost, stuck in place, barred behind some kind of wall that cannot be seen.

Again, I look up at the car park, knowing that he is waiting for me up there, knowing that he’s expecting me – but what do I say?

What do I do?

As all my memories catch up with me, I look upon the final chapter of the night with haunting bewilderment, a lost echo of a life that I foolishly lost – a life which has become so perfect within my own shattered memories, it is better off left there where I cannot ruin it further.

As I start to move forward, walking the path of empty rain in a thoughtless and unnerving slow motion, I watch cautiously as the dead begin to stir, glaring at me and growling like the rabid animals they are. The legions of decaying soulless containers all stare at me from within the shadows, their desperate bellows and silent cries, lost within the far-flung darkness. I’m here for the taking, just feet from them, yet they cannot move, their limbs are frozen and rigid. They are spectators of the inevitable confrontation that I have been chasing all night.

Even the Veniums watch me from behind the mesh cavities, their flesh glistening with oil and smudged with ash. They’re ancient mechanics, born into an existence of torture and slavery, spending their whole reality preparing the earthbound cities for their eternal masters, building invisible doors and gateways, unleashing their vile siblings upon the life we know. They are as still as stone, except for their creaking necks that follow me as I walk the flooded road to what can be best described as the final stretch.

My stomach turns as I approach the car park, the anticipation of meeting him makes my nerves grind like shattering teeth. It sounds almost too easy, compared to all that has happened before. As the lightning strikes the horizon, I watch the skyscrapers topple in the distance, swallowing the dead without remorse as the booming sound of destruction chases the wreckage through the streets. Blackwater now lies on its deathbed, its life currently nothing more than a fading pulse in its last moments and only kept alive by the one person still roaming these diseased streets that could be considered living.

As the man responsible for all this waits for my inevitable arrival, I turn and look upon the dead as they close the path behind me; thousands of faceless, decaying puppets which leave me with no option but to proceed with what is expected of me – the final confrontation, my escape from this constant nightmare and the salvation of all those outside the city that sleep obliviously to the fact that if I fail, they will never open their eyes again.

NO TOMORROW

3 MONTHS EARLIER

As the sun glared over the mountains pouring light into Blackwater, the city suddenly awoke and the people rushed about their business as they did every other day. Cars of every kind congested the streets like soldier ants, the angry drivers scowling impatiently as they sat in jams behind frowning lights, glaring at each other through the windscreens, each face baring the bitter resentment of early mornings. Restaurants and shops opened and their workers hurried inside. The children strolled through the avenues in packs, laughing, playing and grabbing cheeky bags of chips. Their misguided parents, besieged by denial and cursed with wishful thinking, dragged themselves through each day, fooled by the notion that their children were nothing but polite and well behaved.

The sun gleamed off the skyscrapers, casting shapes of light as the infinite flare peered around the corners and edges of the concrete and iron. As the city went into full swing, cell phones on every table and in every pocket cried out with melodies and vibrations.

All the way from Challis Hill right down to Blackwater Bay, the city was now alert and crawling with life. As the populous heaved into motion, the birds soared through the bright blue sky and over the rooftops as they did every day of the year.

The island was awake too; the shopping malls opened their doors; the prison guards at the Correctional Facility ushered the prisoners around, and the industrial estates started their turbines and production belts. The city was officially and evidently alive. As eyes opened all over the city, the population was greeted by the scorching morning rays and the blind smiles of the local radio stations.

Good morning Blackwater City. You’re listening to Blackwater Radio Gold and East of the Rockies. It’s already seven-thirty here in the city, and the temperature has reached a sweltering ninety-five degrees as the record spring heat-wave continues all over Blackwater City. Clear blue skies today, with a slight wind coming in from the South over the lake with a Pollen count of one-five. For you poor hay fever sufferers out there, as always, you can grab Sinus-Seven free of charge, generously supplied by the Beaumont Corporation, at your local Pharmacy. In other news, Philadelphia airport was closed for three hours yesterday, after an inbound flight from Thailand was reported to have had an outbreak of Swine-flu amongst its passengers. Mayor Beaumont has insisted that the outbreak bares no threat to Blackwater at all, saying…

Alex groaned as the joyous newsreader poured his irritating smiles into her bedroom, and leant over switching off the radio. As the young woman tossed and turned, grumbling and yawning, she opened her eyes as the sun beamed through her giant majestic windows, and forced her from her hibernation with sadistic cruelty. Despite being tired and sick as a dog she heaved herself out of bed.

Alex, that day, spent most of her time in her pajamas walking around her mansion and looking for something to occupy her mind, which in all honesty, was pretty much the same as any day in the Beaumont household – slow and often mind numbing. She sat and watched a bit of television, and that was about as complicated as the day got.

She was suffering the worst hangover in history after turning twenty-one just the day before, but the surprise Birthday Ball her father had thrown for her had made it all worth it. She lay on her bed for a while with her ice pack, snatching at partial memories and flashbacks as best she could, wondering if her father was going soft in his old age. As much as she enjoyed the night before, she couldn’t help but wonder why her father was suddenly throwing her parties, the first one in her entire life, in fact, that wasn’t arranged by a friend, or even herself.

Was it a publicity stunt?

Was it an apology for all those years of neglect?

Alex sat flicking through the channels on the television, mumbling and groaning to an empty room as she normally did. As the channels jumped from one mediocre show to the next, she sighed and rubbed her aching head, gnarling dramatically as if death itself was peering around a corner and had her set in its sights.

ANOTHER DAY

Alex listened with amusement as the staff crept into her room, the here and now being a hangover day, the workforce knew only too rightly that she was to be avoided, and they generally avoided her with great skill. However, today was different. Little did they know that she was, in fact, ecstatically happy. Her father's efforts the night before, hangover or not, brought a smile to her face she would remember for the rest of her life. It was commonly awkward for the staff to understand the relationship between her and her father. When they kicked off they were like an immovable object struck by an unstoppable force and the silence from the staff that often followed had always left them feeling understandably uncomfortable. Alex had invariably always longed for the father and daughter relationship, but her father had different ideas, and that just built-up more resentment. It was no secret that Alex’s father blamed her for his wife’s unfortunate death that occurred during Alex’s birth. The fine line between love and hate wasn’t often crossed, until last night, when hope suddenly appeared.

ALEX

It’s hard to believe that I spent that day like any other. I mean after all, why wouldn’t I?

I guess that it’s easy for me to say now. I mean in spite of everything, and as much as we are all blind to the neighboring day, we always expect it to come around sooner or later. For example, I was always somewhat of an optimist, and at times, when I had to do something I had no interest in doing, like attend one of those god-awful corporation shares meetings, I would always think, oh well, this time tomorrow, it will be over. Although, not having an active role in the corporation as such, and as much as I couldn’t give a shit where the funding was spent from day to day, my presence kept the board