The dead have risen
and a desperate struggle for power has begun. The military are
evacuating all survivors in passenger planes. With their destination
unknown, one group of survivors led by a journalist named Paul
Larkin, decide to share their experiences with the hope that when
combined, their stories will reveal the answers that the government
had not been willing to give themselves.
Nine survivors
banded together, yet none of them realized, as they stood to tell
their tales that they stood on the brink of discovering a conspiracy
the likes of which the world has never seen.
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Alex Laybourne:
Born
and raised in the coastal English town Lowestoft, it should come as
no surprise (to those that have the misfortune of knowing this place)
that he became a horror writer.
Married
with four children; James, Logan, Ashleigh and Damon. His biggest
dream for them is that they grow up, and spend their lives doing what
makes them happy, whatever that is.
‘Diaries
of the Damned’ is his third full length publication along with
numbers short works.
Amazon
Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Alex-Laybourne/e/B00580RB18/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Sample:
Chapter
1 – Boarding
Paul Larkin sat in
his seat and fastened his seatbelt. His body was caked with sweat and
dried blood. His ears rang from the gunshots, and his ankle was
swollen again; remnants of an injury he acquired jumping from the
first floor window of his suburban home. At least, it used to be
suburbia, before everything went to shit.
He sat back and let
out a long, deep breath. Shock threatened to take hold of him, so he
closed his eyes and waited. The plane filled up and the cries of
those refused admittance echoed down the walkway, swiftly followed by
the sound of their execution.
Paul spared but the
most fleeting of moments thinking about it. He found it strange how
killing and death had become such a large part of his life.
“Excuse me,” A
fragile sounding voice stirred Paul from the calm place he had just
started to settle into. “I believe this is my seat.” An elderly
woman, late seventies at best stood before him, her face was smeared
with blood, while one eye had been covered by a filthy rag that had
been hastily secured to her face with what looked like duct tape.
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