We Will Rise: An Adrian's Undead Diary Novel (Lockey vs the Apocalypse Book 2) by Carl Meadows (have you read this book .TXT) 📗

It sounds like these nutters were actually ready for the end of the world. Not only ready though; it sounds like they wanted it.

And there’s nothing that worries me more than an Armageddon cult. It’s one thing an individual being prepared should the world shit the bed, but it’s something entirely different when a whole community is built on the premise of the fall. Anyone wanting the end of the world, I have said before now, is a complete turd of a person. Everyone wants change, but to actively wish and be prepared for the fall and near extinction of the human race, and gathered already in the hundreds? I will be my very British self and go with classic understatement.

I’m not too fond of that idea.

Here’s the real kicker though. None of us could figure out what they meant by their First Disciple being able to command the dead. This Tucker guy, the asshole leader with the revolver that Dean and I perforated between us, boasted that their homestead of Ascension was free of the dead, that they “couldn’t roam there” and their First Disciple must have done some kind of display to ‘prove’ this magic trick. Dean said Tucker referred to that as a “miracle” he had witnessed.

There are two options here. Number one is that this First Disciple is a clever illusionist and con man to pull off this miracle. That would be pretty difficult to maintain over time though. The longer the undead menace continues, the more likely your lies are to be discovered.

The second option is way more unsettling. My mind drifts back again to the change in the undead for that short time. It was brief, almost like the flex of a muscle, like a test, or trial run? Don’t know. It does suggest that this isn’t just a plan of Captain Evil to raise all the dead, then sit back and chill, scratching its celestial butt crack while it waits for the zombies to kill all humans slowly, over time. There’s more… agency to it.

Here’s my unsettling option. Is it possible that Captain Evil has made this leader of theirs into some kind of Evil Jesus? I know, that’s throwing it out there and overreaching a little, but something’s just not right. There has to be a purpose to all of this somehow, it can’t all be random. I just don’t see why this little slice of rural northern England would be the epicentre for the end times though, and I still don’t believe that.

The world is a big place, and we’re a tiny little piece of it. I can’t see the coming of any Evil Jesus in such a sparsely populated county of England. Still, we need to investigate the truth of these weird powers and figure out if their guy is playing some exquisite game of misdirection, or Captain Evil is at play in some way.

We’ll figure that out over the next few days while we all let it simmer in the back of our minds. Today, and over the next few days, it’s all about moving people out and settling them in. I’m going to have a private chat with Nate as well at some point over the next few days. I want to see where his head is at. The more I think about these Children of the Resurrection, the more I think they’re nuttier than a fat squirrel’s turd. Safety in numbers in a secure, remote location like Crenshaw seems like good sense now. As much as I love this lodge, and that you’re buried here Freya, we might have to be sensible about it.

This place will always make a good fallback, or safehouse to run to, but there doesn’t seem any sense in just three of us staying here with those lunatics out there.

I won’t push him though. I just want to see where his thinking is. I meant what I said. Wherever Nate is, that’s where I am.

Right, shitloads to do for the next few days. Lots of back and forth moving stuff, transporting vehicles back and to. There’s going to be a bit of fuel usage, so I guess we’ll have to think about a fuel run, and also, it’s time for more hunting. We’ve been so busy we haven’t been back to the deer park in a while, and I’m hankering for a venison orgasm.

And so, the exodus begins.

WE WILL RISE

John Maddock was a fraud.

His entire adult life had been empty, devoid of meaning and direction, as he stumbled from one dead-end job to another, adrift on the sea of life with no sight of land. Always wanting something more, some meaning to his existence, Lady Luck had never been his ally, only a spiteful trickster that toyed with his existence for her own twisted amusement.

Maddock was intelligent, quick-witted, and charismatic, able to make his life anything he desired if he just possessed the drive and determination to apply himself. However, this was the root of all his trouble, for there was one undeniable truth even he could not refute.

John Maddock was lazy.

He wanted the get-rich-quick scheme, the big win for a small investment, or the long odds gamble for that one big score. For all his intelligence and charm, John Maddock wanted the world to give him what he felt he deserved, rather than using the tools he had been given and applying them.

Every career ladder remained unclimbed, even though he knew he was smarter than his managers, his arrogance too overpowering to keep the obvious disdain for his superiors concealed. He wanted the world around him to see his gifts, to recognise that charm and intelligence in all its glory, but the narcissist within prevented him from holding back. Not content to be the whispering power behind a throne, he wanted to sit upon it, revelling in the glory he felt was his due, but the doors leading to every throne he pursued were slammed in his face.

He told himself