Presenting
The Man - Armand Rosamilia.
Armand is the author of the Dying Days Collection.
"Dying Days are upon us. The Undead roam the Earth...searching for the living...to eat...to feast...to rip apart..."
We are always lucky to have Armand. Not only because all the ladies love him, but turns out he's a pretty damn good writer as well. Today he is sharing an unreleased flash fiction story in anticipation of his forthcoming June release DYING DAYS 3. You should also check him out in Miami Spy Games and Fifty Shades of Decay (I love that title!)
Take it away, Armand...
This is an unreleased short story set in the Dying Days zombie world. The idea came
to me after meeting one of my girlfriend's friends and listening to his
obsession with reality TV shows, and pretty much just watching every show
available. I took it to the extreme and it's not really about him (although his
real name may or may not be Patrick), and it might be 100% what he would do
during the zombie apocalypse. Or not (especially if he decided to sue)…
Dying Days: Television
Armand Rosamilia
Patrick
held the universal TV remote in his hand and pointed it at the blank screens
until gravity forced it down. He sighed loudly (like the winner of season
five's Survivor had done to psyche
out the other two remaining contestants) and fell back onto the couch.
Even though
the power had tripped, the backup generators were working and, therefore, the
cable and satellite feeds should be working. The televisions were definitely
on, because he kept turning each individual one on and off and making sure the green
lights flashed before him on the wall of TV sets.
He checked
his watch and was frustrated. He only had four minutes until the Amish reality
show was coming on, and he needed to see if Levi was going to leave the
community or stay and ask for forgiveness.
If the
power was out the third DVR in his back bedroom wouldn't record it and he'd
miss an episode. That was unacceptable. He searched for his cell phone among
the Entertainment Weekly magazines on
the coffee table and hit speed-dial #1, which was the cable company. The phone
just made a weird beeping noise, and Patrick finally tossed it down in
frustration. This wasn't good.
In two
hours the pawn show marathon started. Even though he'd seen them all, he needed
to sit through them again. Just in case he missed something funny or important.
Tonight was also the season finale of the annoying little girl who was in the
beauty pageants. He hated her and her media whore mother, but he still wanted
to see if she'd win the Little Miss Kentucky Pageant. After watching an entire
season, what else could he do?
"Damn,"
Patrick said when he realized the phone being out meant he couldn't order his
Meat Lover's pizza tonight. It was Tuesday. He always ordered a pie. Tomorrow
would be Chinese food, and Thursday was Jimmy Johns, followed by Friday night
delivery of cheeseburgers from the corner barbeque place. Saturday was back to
pizza, but always with sausage, pepperoni and onions. Sunday was another
delicious order of Chinese, and Monday leftovers from the previous week.
Patrick had
his life planned out. What else did he need? During the day he could do his
online copywriting job, check his stock portfolio, sell a few things on eBay,
and never have to leave the house except to collect his mail, packages, and open
the door for the delivery person. But now…
He wanted
to scream when he looked at his laptop and saw his internet connection was
lost. How would he get any work done? There were several jobs due in the
morning he'd already finished and only needed to submit. Now he couldn't.
Through the
closed blinds he could tell the sun was going down. He didn't know his neighbor
and he didn't care to know them. They weren't important. Only the real
housewives in New Jersey mattered to him right now, or the Alaskan gold miners
and the bad ass truckers in the ice.
Was that a
scream he'd just heard? Patrick ran into his bedroom, hoping it was on the
seventy-two inch wall unit he had mounted at an angle so he could see
comfortably from his bed, but the screen was blank. Could it have come from
outside?
He found a
pair of jeans on the floor and put them on. His white t-shirt was hastily
pulled over his torso and it was even tighter than he remembered since last
week when he'd put it on.
Patrick
turned the front door knob but hesitated. What if someone was in trouble? What
if they needed his help? This was real
reality, and he didn't do well in these situations. He didn't want to have to
deal face to face with people. It was why he worked from home, and had for
years. People were opinionated, nosy, leeches and bloodsuckers who only asked
you for things. No thanks. It was better to see them act like selfish brats on
his television than in person.
Before he
could talk himself out of it, he opened the door and took a step outside. The
fresh air was a nice change from the air conditioning. It felt… well, fresh.
"Ugh,"
he muttered when he saw the neighbors standing in their driveway looking right
at him. Before he could turn and run back inside the annoying wife was waving
her arms at him and her and her husband came running.
"We
didn't think anyone else was still around," she said. "Hi, I'm
Merna."
"Nice
to meet you," he lied and mumbled. There was nothing out here for him.
"Did I hear a scream?"
"Yes,"
the husband said, looking around. "It isn't safe. It also might be too
late for us to leave. On the news it said the roads were blocked in and out of
Jacksonville."
"Why?"
Patrick didn't watch the news. There was really no point in it. He didn't want
that much reality. School shootings, accidents, fires, police reports… all
boring. There was no payoff for him, no inside scoop on the people involved.
The show Cops had started him on the
great reality television craze, and he never wanted to stop.
"Don't
you watch the news?" The man said incredulously. "Rumor has it you
have fifty TV's in your house."
Patrick
laughed. "Fifty? I wish. It's only twenty-two screens. Plus three
computers, two laptops, and my tablets. But not fifty. Not yet." He had
been eyeing a seventy-inch plasma online, waiting for the price to drop so he
could order two for the dining room.
"There
are zombies," Merna said. "This is my husband Earl."
"Did
you say zombies?" Patrick said and scoffed. He was done with these
crazies. This was why he didn’t bother with people. They were certifiable. Like
the nutty guy in season two of Big
Brother.
"I
know it sounds crazy, but before the power went out they were showing live
shots from all over the country. They are taking over and eating people."
Merna shivered and crossed her arms. "This isn't a joke."
"Too
bad the power is out, or else you would see for yourself," Earl said.
"This isn't like that zombie show on TV, either. These things are nasty
and ripping people apart."
"I
don't watch that show. It's not realistic enough," Patrick said.
Merna
looked at him oddly. "Realistic? It's about zombies."
"It
was nice meeting you," Patrick lied again. "I'm going inside to see
what the fuss is about."
"You
have power?"
"Yeah.
I am always prepared. Not that it helps, since all the channels are out."
"Can
we come in? Safety in numbers seems smart right now," Merna said.
Patrick
didn't want these strangers in his home. It was bad enough when the cable guy
came over to install another line. "Sorry… the place is a mess. Maybe some
other time." He turned and walked as fast as he could to his house.
"Are
you kidding me? We're going to die out here," the husband said.
"Sucks
to be you," Patrick mumbled as he went inside. This was obviously some
stupid joke, and he wasn't buying it. What if this was some reality show? A
hidden camera program, maybe. He could end up being a star, but only if he
played his cards right.
Patrick sat
down on the couch and thought of a strategy. Would he be the in-your-face guy,
brash and defiant, bruising his way to victory? Maybe he'd be the
under-the-radar guy, who subtly screwed everyone around him out of the prize.
He could make pretend he was everyone's friend, and then find their strengths
and weaknesses.
But what
was the grand prize? What were the rules of the game? How could he gain the
advantage and keep it? He did another click-through on the televisions, but
they were all still out.
The knock
at the door startled him. Patrick was going to ignore it, but then decided his
best course would be to answer and play his part… he decided he would be the
gullible, friendly guy and take the other contestants in with his Aww, Shucks! Attitude.
When
Patrick opened the door the neighbors were standing there.
He smiled.
This was his first test, and his first screen time unless they'd be filming him
before. "Howdy neighbors."
Patrick
noticed the blood spitting from Merna's neck, a shambling crowd gathering
behind the couple, and the vacant look in their eyes the second before Earl wrapped
his cold fingers around Patrick's neck.
You can read even more about Armand Rosamilia by visiting his site at armandrosamilia.com and buying his books so he has enough money to stop the coming zombie
apocalypse… and he can buy M&M's.
Great story!
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