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  Betrayal, Revenge and The Rise of the Damned

  A Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Collection

  Eileen Cruz Coleman

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Betrayal, Revenge and The Rise of the Damned

  DAWN OF THE INFECTED

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  THE GIRL ON THE ROOF

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  THE RISING

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  ICE DRAGON KING

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  About the Author

  If you love fae, witches, vampires, angels, dragons, and yes, even zombies, this collection is for you.

  PRAISE FOR DAWN OF THE INFECTED:

  "an amazing, non-stop action, thrilling read..."

  "I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Hard to put down..."

  "This book took me back to Walking Dead!!! A great read!!"

  "Loved the new take on zombies! This book caught my attention right from the beginning."

  "Not your every day zombie end of the world story. Lots of supernatural creatures. "

  "Great read!! Within the first few pages I was hooked. There's something about the way this author writes, that I was totally taken in by the first few pages."

  "Envision a movie opening directly into the meat of the plot, the unanticipated attack of the New Order of paranormal cabals, witches and vampires unite against humans and assorted hybrids. No establishing shots, no clumps of terrorists huddled along the main drags, no gradual buildup of unusual events at government outposts, just opening directly on a city bus during the morning commute after suffering an onslaught of vicious, murderous, not to mention hungry, vampires and vengeful witches attacking oblivious humans."

  "Zombies? Witches? Angels? Fae? Check for all. This is not your ordinary end of the world book. Love the story."

  PRAISE FOR THE GIRL ON THE ROOF:

  "What an amazing imagination this talented author has! It felt like I was in the book, literally! The main character, Kara, is relatable & I find this important, in this case, to connect to a strong, sassy woman. It was a serious page-turner for me."

  "Author Eileen Cruz Coleman has struck gold with this little gem of a short story. Yes, it runs through things pretty quickly but you get the story line and there's a lot happening right there."

  "No trains in this tale...Angels and Humans vs. Demons, Fallen, and monsters for a winner-take-all control of Earth...In all, a fun, quick read.''

  PRAISE FOR THE RISING:

  "Vampire lovers get ready for this tale, full of vampires, hybrid vampires, faes, humans and other mystical characters."

  "If you are looking for a fast paced urban fantasy book then give this book a go."

  "Fae, Witches, Vampires and Hybrids Oh My!"

  "...fast paced and exciting...Betrayal, suspense, joy and love...Isabel is fierce."

  "...filled with suspense, action, sorrow, twists and turns!"

  "...full of action, intrigue and betrayal."

  PRAISE FOR ICE DRAGON KING:

  "...an UNPREDICTABLE journey. It's a Fun, Entertaining, Romantic tale!!!”

  “...sweet, fun, and romantic dragon shifter fantasy.”

  Betrayal, Revenge and The Rise of the Damned © 2018 Eileen Cruz Coleman

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  DAWN OF THE INFECTED

  Never Surrender. Not Now. Not Ever.

  FOR TWENTY-THREE-YEAR-old start-up tech company CEO Selena Martinez, it was just another uneventful early morning bus commute from her cottage in rural Southern Maryland to her office in Washington, D.C.

  But when her bus is suddenly attacked by a horde of crazed savages, Selena becomes immersed in a world of terror and confusion, where she must learn to survive on her own smarts and skills she never dreamed she possessed. Selena is a fighter, but even someone as strong-willed and determined as she needs a little help during an apocalypse.

  That help comes in the form of a mysterious man who seemingly appears from nowhere and saves her from certain death. Selena will soon learn that she was saved for a very special reason, and that she may, in fact, hold the answer to saving the world.

  Chapter 1

  MARCH 2

  It’s been six months since it all began. We’re still fighting and some days I’m not sure if we’re winning or losing. I’m getting stronger and learning to use my power more and more. I can control it now and I’m teaching others like me how to control and use their powers. I’m hopeful that one day I will know what to do with what’s written inside the journal. I still don’t know who left it for me. There are many things I still don’t know. Like who I really am. In time, the answers will come, I’m sure of it. But until that day, I will continue fighting the darkness that has overtaken the earth. It wants me to lie down and die. But I won’t. Not now. Not ever. I have decided to document as much as I can so that if I do die, and someone finds this, it will help him or her continue the battle. If you find this, don’t give up, keep fighting. Never surrender.

  This is how my story begins...

  A spider crawls on my leg, trailing the blood that is now trickling down my thigh. I brush it off, but a second spider engorged with another passenger’s blood, climbs on my calf and speedily ascends to my thigh. I flick it off with my finger. It lands on an old woman’s bruised face and then jumps onto the floor, scurrying down the aisle as if insulted that I thought it had any interest in feasting on the dead.

  I rest my head on the back door and stare at the carnage in front of me. Body parts are everywhere, scattered on the floor and seats. The scene looks like the aftermath of a detonated grenade. My stomach turns, threatening to erupt if I don’t look away. I cover my face with my hands and scream, hoping to rouse anyone who may still be alive.

  I sit very still, listening for any replies, a whimper, a moan, a whisper, anything that will let me know I’m not the only one left.

  I hear nothing but my own breathing, heavy and rapid.

  I know I should get up and out of this catacomb bus, but I’m petrified. They could be out there hiding in the veiled light of dawn, waiting to strike me down like a lion on a zebra foal that has strayed from his mother.

  I bite at my nails, grinding my teeth as if I’m chewing a hard piece of jerky. If I was religious, I’d get on my knees and pray.

  I lie on my stomach and clamber underneath a seat. I’m not hurt or bitten and the blood on my leg is from an open scab, the result of a bike accident a few days ago. If only I was in the city and had ridden my bike to work today.

  I rub my forehead and temples, hoping to conjure clarity about what to do next. I bring my knees to my chest and hug my shins tightly. I slow my breathing, attempting to calm my nerves long enough to give me the courage to stand and flee.

  I scream again. Somebody has to be alive. I listen, my ears perked like an eavesdropper who's suddenly heard mention of her name.

  I close my eyes in defeat. It’s true. I’m the only one alive. Okay, time to accept it and make a plan. I’ll exit the bus. I won't be afraid. I’ve never been afraid of anything.

  My name is Selena. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m the CEO of a start-up tech company which I started in my bedroom when I was fifteen years old. I go after what I want and I don’t let anything or anyone stand in my way. And what I want right now is to get out of this bus and get home.

  A tingling sensation on my arm causes me to open my eyes. The spiders are back, three of them this time. They inch up my arm and around my elbow. I smack them as hard as I can with the palm of my hand, rubbing off their gooey remains on the front of my shirt.

  The early morning sun shines through the windows, completely unveiling the massacre that our attackers left behind.

  It’s time f
or me to go. If I don’t get up from the floor now, this minute, I may never leave. Fear will win. I’ll die on this bus in the company of the slaughtered.

  With my heart now sprinting, I peek from under the seat, hopelessly praying that everything will be back to the way it was before, with people in their seats, alive, talking, laughing, playing games on their phones or reading books.

  My prayers are ignored.

  I grip the edge of the soft leathery seat and pull myself up to my feet. The sun has climbed higher in the sky, shooting its beams like spotlights on the dead. I resist the overwhelming urge to vomit.

  Holding a hand to my mouth, I timidly step over a dismembered leg. The path in front of me is paved with blood and shattered limbs. Pieces of ivory bone and teeth glisten against the dark brown puddles of entrails. I can’t bring myself to walk it.

  Instead, I turn and face the back door. I grasp the red emergency exit handle and push down with all of my weight, but it doesn’t move. I try again, and again, sweat beads forming on my upper lip. My attempts are futile.

  I eye my surroundings frantically, looking for something durable and heavy to break the door window. But I avoid the aisle of death at all costs. Anyone in my position—who was seeing what I was seeing and smelling what I was smelling—would have done the same.

  I find nothing to break the laminated glass. Instead, I spot an empty seat and take it, staring ahead in disbelief. Strands of my thick curly hair stick to my face. I want to cry. I want to cry loud enough that if there is a God, He will hear me and summon his angels to save me. Tears stream down my cheeks but I wipe them away before they reach my neck.

  I place my face on my lap and sob. Maybe God will hear me. Maybe he won’t.

  I hear a moan, a hint of a whimper. Someone is alive.

  I rise to my feet. “Is someone there?”

  I force myself to ignore the limbs in the aisle and walk over them, searching for the survivor. I move slowly, inspecting every seat.

  The sound is less like a moan now and more like a growl. It’s coming from the front of the bus—perhaps from the driver—and he’s clearly in bad shape.

  I sprint now toward the front of the bus, emboldened by optimism, the dead no longer the obstacles they were only minutes before. I feel hope. I’m not alone.

  The driver is slumped over the steering wheel in a posture that suggests only death but his fingers are twitching and he’s breathing heavily.

  I rest my hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be okay.” I have no idea as to the merits of my words, and I soon realize they're more for me than him.

  His breathing increases at the touch of my hand. So does his sneering.

  “I’m going to lean you back, okay?”

  His right arm hangs down at his side; his knuckles are nearly touching the floor as his fingers begin to twitch faster. He swings his hand back and clutches my knee and I scream, nearly falling back on to the aisles of corpses. But the driver’s grip is firm, wild, and desperate to make sure I don’t abandon him.

  I’ve no intention of leaving him behind. If not for him, I’d still be in the back of the bus.

  Gently, I pull him back into the seat. He lets go of my leg. His eyes are red and deadlocked on me. His roaring intensifies, like an angry bear. I instinctively jump back, but he lifts his arm and catches a lock of my hair, pulling me toward him.

  His teeth clenched, he tightens his hold on my hair and draws me closer.

  I’m going to die. There are no angels on the way to save me. In a moment, I’ll be just like the other passengers, a dismembered rotting corpse. And when I’m found, no one will know who I am. Torn pieces of flesh, broken bones, and a mutilated face are all that will remain of me.

  The driver opens his mouth and saliva pours down his chin. How can this be happening? Hours ago, this thing was a person. With a name. He smiled and said good morning to me as I boarded the bus. And now he wants to tear me apart. Maybe to eat me.

  I grasp his hand and try to pry it off me, sinking my long nails into his skin. “Let go, you’re hurting me!” I appeal to whatever humanity still remains inside of this man, but as his grip tightens, there doesn’t seem to be much.

  He bares his teeth like a wolf preparing to attack. Shaking his head from side to side, he pulls me closer to him. If I’m going to survive, I need to do something now.

  I slam my palm down on the horn as hard as I can, hoping the sound will startle the driver enough to let me go. His eyes widen and he vigorously tosses his head back and forth, an apparent reaction to the loud noise. I keep my hand on the horn. He loosens his grip on my hair and I seize the moment.

  With the remaining strength I have, I hit his head with my forehead. The blow sends a bolt of pain from the front of my head to the back. I ignore the pain and head butt him again. My head is spinning. I feel faint, but I will myself to remain on my feet.

  He thrashes his head and I hit him one more time, praying I don’t pass out.

  He looks at me as if in disbelief that I dared strike him a third time. He releases me, his hand falling on the edge of the seat.

  Finally, I’m free. I know I need to get out before he comes after me again.

  Dizzy and holding my head, I go down one step, but I stumble and fall, my face slamming against the door, my body twisting like a pretzel.

  I hear him growling again.

  Get up, Selena.

  I reach for the handrail and drag myself to my feet, instantly crying out in pain. My ankle is sprained, or worse, broken.

  The driver is now standing at the top of the steps looking down at me. There’s an expression of bemusement on his vapid face, as if he can’t believe my naiveté in thinking I could escape him.

  I slam my shoulder against the bus door several times but it doesn’t open.

  He steps down to approach me but instantly loses his footing, crashing directly into me, the weight of us both pushing the door wide open.

  I land outside, my back on the ground, him on top of me, his teeth two inches from my neck. I’m enraged at the absurdity of my situation. There is no way I survived only to end up as a meal for this disgusting, vile thing.

  I do what my impulse tells me. And I do it without question or hesitation. It’s either listen to my instincts...or die.

  I push the driver up, holding his body off me with one hand, grateful for the man’s slight build. But I won’t be able to keep him off me for long. Without thinking further, I push the man’s head slightly to the side and bring my mouth to the middle of his neck. I bite him, hard, a wide, primal bite that grips and ruptures the skin and cartilage.

  The taste of his blood turns my stomach but I stay focused on surviving. I sink my teeth deeper into his neck like an animal that hasn’t eaten in days. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the irony of the situation—me feeding on him—appears and then drifts away.

  The driver snarls and throws his head back, freeing himself from my snare. Blood spews out from his neck. I don’t waste any time, and with all my force, I push him off me. He’s wounded but he’s relentless. He won’t stay down for long.

  I stand, putting pressure only on my right foot, my left ankle already swelling underneath my cotton sock.

  As quickly as I can, I limp to the street, stopping in the middle to examine my surroundings. Littered with abandoned trucks and cars, broken glass, fallen trees and...bodies, the road resembles a scene out of a post-apocalyptic horror movie.

  “Hello! Can anyone hear me? I’m hurt! Please someone help me!”

  I limp over to a nearby car and look inside the driver-side window. There is a child strapped in a car seat. He’s cradling a stuffed bear. He’s alone, a deep gash on his face. I don’t think he’s alive, but I need to be sure. I crack open the door. The noise startles the child, and he looks up at me with cherry red eyes, his tiny teeth bared. He extends his hands, grasping at the air. I know instantly he’s not seeking my help. His infant growl indicates he’s hungry. He wants to feed on me.

  More than anything, I want to put this innocent child out of his misery. But I can’t do it. I don’t know how to extinguish whatever he’s now become.

  I wipe away tears and continue my painful walk, looking behind me to make sure the thing I fought in the bus isn’t following me. He’s not. I sigh with relief. I don’t think I have any strength left in me to fight.