state of decay by p.s. martinez

You’d think that having a hard-ass soldier for a dad whose idea of bonding is camping, shooting, and running SHTF scenarios would have prepared me for an apocalypse. You’d be right. Sort of.

I mean, can anyone really be prepared for a Boeing 767 to fall out of the sky, wiping out the majority of their neighborhood? How about charred corpses walking around snacking on their rescuers? Whole new f*cking world, am I right?

My name is Melody Carter. I was a teenager and the only daughter of Major John M. Carter of the United States Army not so very long ago. Now, I’m a lone survivor, and a killer in a world gone dangerously dark. It’s been six months since the shit hit the fan and, now, despite my anxieties and fears, I’m determined to find out what the hell happened. Are there any survivors I can trust to help me find out if my best friend, Jess, is dead, alive, or halfway in between?

But more than anything, I need to discover if hope died along with everything else that day.

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Zombies here. Zombies there.

Zombies everywhere. 

Jeremiah (Tex) Jackson is tired of all the death and tired of all the killing but, what choice does he have when the entire world has gone to Hell in a hand basket? It’s kill or be killed, a man-eat-man world now. And if that ain’t screwed up enough, it’s a living-take-advantage-of-the-living world as well.


Some people would say this is the beginning of the end for humanity. That fighting a losing battle just wasn’t worth the trouble. They’d be wrong. Tex might be from a tiny, Podunk town in Texas, but he was smart enough to realize the odds of survival weren’t so great for the living. That didn’t mean he would go down without a fight. 


The world might end. Humanity could cease to exist. But if Tex was sure of anything, it was that any life worth living, was worth fighting for … and he planned to do just that.

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I wiped a splatter of blood off of the cover of the worn out, pink notebook and sat down roughly on the dirty floor of the abandoned house. As far as I knew I was relatively safe.


Well, as safe as anyone could be now that the undead had risen and the world was laid open like a gaping wound, festering and ready to infect and kill you while you slept.

There were only a few of us left from our original group of survivors. The world was becoming more and more desolate by the day and we were becoming filled with more and more despair by comparison. 


My only consolation, as inconsequential as it was, was finding the occasional book to read or notebook to write in when I could no longer stomach my reality, when I was afraid that the terrible thoughts jumbled in my mind wouldn’t be quieted and I would do something to put a stop to them permanently.


I pulled a pen out of my backpack and opened the notebook with trembling fingers. 


I began at the beginning.

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