Today we have a special treat,visiting with the prolific Armand Rosamilia, who's talking zombies, of course, and about his latest release, Dying Days 4
. Be sure to keep reading to the end for a contest and an excerpt...
About Dying Days 4: Darlene Bobich and the dwindling survivors face an even greater peril when the zombies start to not only regain their intelligence, but their hunger reaches new heights. (Note: Book contains profanity and adult situations.)
Interview with Armand Rosamilia:
* What led you to
write your series and the latest, Dying Days 4?
Living in sunny Florida
for the past 13 years, I wanted to set something horrific in the immediate
area. I thought putting zombies on the beach would be much better than in a
gray, crumbling city. Dying Days 4 keeps the story moving along in several new
locations in Florida.
* How did you start writing? What's your background and
previous or current profession?
I've been writing for over thirty years on and off, since I
was twelve. Most of it was garbage, but I honed my skills (I hope) by writing
so much, even when I knew it was just to get a story out and not to get it
published. In the meantime, I worked retail management jobs for over 20 years
and hated every day of it, swearing someday I would quit and become a full-time
author. Three years ago I did it and I am currently living the dream.
* What prompted your interest in horror?
Dean Koontz books as a 12-year-old. I read everything I could
get my hands on by him, and my mother has a sizeable horror paperback
collection, so I never ran out. I got my love of reading from her.
* If you had to write one thing, what would it be and why?
Watership Down,
which is still my favorite book of all-time. I reread it every few years and as
I get older I look at it in a slightly different way. It is brilliant.
* What's the hardest thing to write in your books?
I try not to write those middle boring parts if I can help
it, ramping up the danger or the fun, depending on the book. I hate reading a
story that has filler in it. I'd rather write shorter pieces like novellas than
pad a word count.
* And the easiest? Why?
The easiest part of writing is when the character is
speaking to me and I'm trying to write down every word they're saying. I know
I've stumbled upon something good when it happens.
* Where do you like to write?
I used to write in a corner of Kokomo's Café in Flagler Beach Florida
but since moving to Jacksonville
I've put together an office. I get up each morning and go right to my desk,
where I waste several hours a day before I get in my 2,000 daily word count
goal.
* Who is your favorite character and why?
I used to say Darlene Bobich, but after writing Dying Days 4 it would be Tosha Shorb,
who came out of nowhere in Dying Days 2
and has become a fan favorite. As a reader my favorite character is Conan the
Barbarian. I collected every book and every Marvel Comic with Conan as a kid
and still have them.
* When you're not writing, you like to . . . ?
Read whenever possible. I like to hang out with Special Gal
and my kids. I even leave the house once a week to go bowling. I'm not very
good but I have a great time.
* Tell us one thing we don't know about you and would be
surprised to know . . .
People who meet me for the first time figure I'm a biker and
illiterate. When they find out I can read and I'm a full-time writer they are
stunned. When it's further revealed I am a total geek who played Dungeons &
Dragons for a good chunk of my childhood and still collect Marvel Comics and
anything else geeky, they are speechless. And stunned again.
* What's coming up next?
I'm always working on three to five projects, so you can expect a few
things from me. I'll have a horror novel released by Ragnarok Publications
around September and Dying Days: Origins
2 in November. I'm writing the adaptation to at least two movies this year
and have about a dozen short stories coming in anthologies at some point. And a
whole bunch of other stuff.
* If you couldn't write about zombies, then what would you
write about? Do you plan on going in a different direction?
I'm actually lucky because, while I'm known for my Dying Days series and it pays the bills,
it also allows me to write in other genres as well. I have stories and books
out that are straight horror, Lovecraftian, thrillers, nonfiction, erotica,
horror erotica, contemporary fiction… I write in many genres.
** Contest: * Comment here on the blog about the Dying Days books and fave character, Darlene Bobich for a chance to win one of 10 audiobook coupons!!! Include your email or a place to contact you.
** Excerpt from Chapter Two of Dying Days 4:
"I can
smell the three of you up there… wait, is there a fourth? A baby,
perhaps?"
Darlene put her
hands on her full belly and sighed. She could barely move on the bed and no
matter what she did she couldn't get into a comfortable position. It had been
like this for weeks.
Murph, looking
so frail sitting in the corner chair, wheezed as he slept fitfully, his head
lolling back against the wall. In the weeks since their escape from the stilt
houses, they'd found little shelter or food. Circling through the Palm Coast
area had been a nightmare as more and more of the zombies began to talk and do
things a living person would do. It would be harder and harder to know the
difference between the zombies and the living soon enough.
"There's
only one of them," John Murphy said, glancing out the window. "He's
standing on the porch."
They were holed
up in the upstairs apartment above Kokomo's Café in Flagler Beach, where (in
better times long past) the spectacular view would allow one to see the ocean a
block away and the tourists and locals in Veteran's Park, and enjoy the smell
of good coffee from below.
Now the only
smell was death and smoke. The view was burnt buildings and Rorschach blood
spatters on every surface.
"Maybe
he'll go away," Darlene said unconvincingly. It was only a matter of time
before they were rooted out of another hiding place. It kept happening over and
over, the baby like a beacon to these monsters.
John looked back
and gave her a faint smile. "We can't keep doing this." He glanced at
his father on the chair and back to Darlene. "Neither of you can be moved.
It was a bitch getting you up the stairs."
"Little
pigs, little pigs, let me in," the zombie called from below. He started
laughing at his own joke. "Toss down the baby and let me play with it. Is
it a boy or a girl? Does it look like its mommy or daddy? Does it have my
eyes?"
John went to the
bed and kissed Darlene on the cheek. "Do we have anything I can kill it
with?"
She shook her
head. "I'm out of ammo for the Desert Eagle and for the shotgun."
"I'm out of
arrows and bolts and haven't found anything to fashion new ones with. I need
something… damn," John said and pointed at his sleeping dad. "A leg
of the chair would do just fine."
"Don't wake
Murph. You know how pissed he gets," Darlene said. "And I don't want
you going down there."
"I have to.
All this yelling will only bring more of them. And they aren't mindless
anymore. This one will be expecting us. Remember the attack at Matanzas High School? They let me waste all my
arrows and bolts and I only hit half the time. They aren't so easy to
kill."
"Seriously,
are you coming down to let me in or not? This is just plain rude. Are you
Yankees? Huh? Whatever happened to Southern hospitality? I demand some respect
as well as a sweet tea and a slice of key lime pie," the zombie said and
laughed loudly at his jokes.
"I'm going
to kill him," John said and shook his dad, sleeping on the chair.
The old man,
despite his advanced age, came up swinging and John had to hold him down and
tell him he wasn't being attacked.
When Murph
finally relaxed, he winked at Darlene and tipped his dirty baseball cap.
"I still got some fight in these fists yet. That'll be the last warning
you get, John John. Next time I break your dang nose."
"I need the
chair," John said.
"You can't
have it."
"I need
it."
"For
what?" Murph asked.
"I'm going
to break a leg off and kill a zombie with it."
Murph stood
slowly and stretched. "I guess it's as good an excuse as any. But now you
owe me a seat. And I'll bother you until I get one. Understood?"
"Yes,
Dad," John said and winked at Darlene. He picked up the chair and smashed
it against the floor, pulling a jagged chair leg off of it. "I wonder if
they still need to be killed by smashing in or jabbing into their heads."
"I wouldn't
take the chance," Darlene said. "They're regenerating. Even the ones
we thought had obvious head trauma were healing. If we had the time and
resources, I'd say we burn all of them. But we don't have the option."
John hefted the
wood in his hand. "I know what the option is right now. I'll be
back." He started to walk to the door but stopped and broke another two
legs off the chair, handing one to Murph and one to Darlene without a word.
He opened the
door a crack, expecting the zombie to attempt to push through, but the stairs
down were empty. The door on the bottom was still intact, as well.
"Good luck
and be safe," Darlene whispered.
He couldn't look
back at her. He needed to focus. John put a foot down on the first step and
heard it creak like a gunshot. He tried to balance his weight as he put his
left foot down but the next step did the same. These wooden steps had taken a
beating in this Florida
weather over the years, and without air conditioning or a heater to regulate
the temperature, the wood was warping at an alarming rate.
Even without the
threat of zombies, the building would eventually collapse in on itself and be
too dangerous for them to stay. John wondered what he was going to do with
Murph and Darlene if they had to flee again. He didn't think they could at this
point.
He creaked down
to the door, knowing the zombie knew he was coming. He decided to get this over
with, unlocking the door and kicking it open. John led with the jagged piece of
wood, shielding his eyes from the sun.
The zombie
wasn't standing on the deck anymore and the door to Kokomo's Café was wide open. John knew it
hadn't been more than a few minutes ago when he looked out the window.
John looked
around to make sure the zombie wasn't faking him out and hiding around the
corner or crouching next to the deck.
"I'm in
here," he heard the zombie say from inside the former café.
John could do
nothing but walk to the door and look inside. The zombie was sitting on a chair
next to the counter, right hand playing with shards of glass from the broken
pastry cooler.
"When's the
last time you had a good meal, buddy?"
John stiffened
when the zombie turned to him and smiled, his steely eyes locked on John's. He
lifted the chair leg in front of his chest.
The zombie
laughed. "What's your name?"
"Huh?"
The zombie
plucked a large shard of glass from the cooler. "My name is Earl."
"Uh, I'm
John."
The zombie
laughed. "I'm just kidding. Don't you remember the show? I love saying
that, right before I kill someone and strip their flesh from their bones while
they scream. Such a sweet sound."
John moved three
paces closer. "Get up so I can prove you wrong."
"Mark is my
real name. I was born in Maine."
John hesitated.
"Maine?
Where?"
"Swanville.
Ever heard of it? Maybe someday I'll go back, but I am so enjoying the warmer
weather."
John had no idea
where Swanville was in Maine
and if it was a real place or a nickname for something else, but he'd heard
Darlene talk about Dexter and maybe Bangor.
"Why are all of you zombies coming south?"
Mark shrugged
and continued to play with the glass shard. "I can't really say. It's like
I was being compelled to come south. I can't say because I don't remember
anything about walking to Florida.
One minute I was driving to the hardware store and then stopped at a red light.
A car plowed into my rear end and when I got out I remember a mob surrounding
me. The next thing I remember was the sun on my face. And being really, really
hungry."
Despite the
danger, John was fascinated. He'd been killing them for so long and this was
the first real encounter with a zombie without just a fight. "Can you stop
yourself from biting and raping people? Do you know right from wrong?"
Mark smiled.
"Your right and wrong is vastly different from mine now. I see it. Once I
kill you and you rise, you'll see it as well. I've decided to create as many
superior beings as I can. You call us zombies, but a zombie is a mindless
creature. I'm obviously so much more."
"What
happened? Are you changing, morphing back to human and alive? Will you start
breathing again?" John asked.
Mark shrugged
again. "Every day brings me something new and exciting. I can literally
sit here and hear the heartbeat of the baby in her womb upstairs. It sounds
like magic to me. I'm drawn to him for some reason. I think many of us
are." He grinned. "Mama is a special breed as well, as I'm sure you
know. There's something… different about her. Wait until this kid is born. We
can all feel it. If I had a breath to hold I would, because he'll be the death
of us. I'm not joking. The pull is so strong, like the pull for all of us to
head to southern States. I think eventually we'll all be focused on the baby.
I'd like to be the one to rip him apart and drink his blood, because then I'll
be the most powerful of us."
"I'm going
to stop you from getting to my son."
Mark stood and
dramatically stretched, cracking his fingers one at a time as he stared at
John. "You can't stop me, and you can't stop us. We are the New World
Order. We are the new Caretakers and the Homo Superior. We are the
future."
"You don't
have much of a future," John said and gripped the piece of wood. He was
wondering if the zombie was going to rush him or if he'd be able to get the
jump on the zombie.
"Can we
just agree to disagree?"
John was done
talking and moved against the zombie, who took a step back and swung the chair
he was sitting on in front of him.
"It's not
going to be easy to kill us anymore," Mark said. "If this were Vegas,
I'd think even odds, although you had better really kill me for good this time.
Because, if even a part of me is still alive, I will heal and come back to haunt
you. And eat your baby."
"Then I'll
make sure I burn you," John said and rushed the zombie, stepping onto the
chair and swinging the wood at his head. The move caught Mark off-guard and he
tried to duck out of the way. The wood jabbed into the side of his face,
ripping through his right eye and shoving out behind the ear, catching in the
zombie's head.
The two stumbled
back and slammed into the dusty soda case, glass shards flying. They went down
onto the wooden floor and John scrambled to stay on top of the zombie and away
from his teeth.
"You missed
the brain but I have to be honest… this shit hurts," Mark said and tried
to pull the wood out. John gripped the chair leg and twisted it, trying to
pierce the brain, but it was too far out of the head to have any effect other
than squirting dark blood onto the floor.
Mark the zombie
did John a favor by pushing his hand away and yanking the splintered piece of
wood halfway out. John stamped his palm onto the wood and turned it with his
other hand, jabbing it into the center of the zombie's head.
John was nose to
nose with the zombie and was about to vomit with the sour breath of the undead
man when he saw his gray eyes go from anger to confusion and then… nothing.
The zombie
stopped struggling underneath John, all un-life snuffed out.
John found the
biggest piece of glass he could and began the horrible but needed job of
severing the head from the zombie's neck, vomiting twice as he worked.
He'd never get
used to this.
John wiped as
much of the blood off the chair leg on the zombie's shirt as he could. He'd
need every weapon he could find and wouldn't leave it.
As he stepped
back out onto the front porch and into the brutal sunshine, he stopped and
shielded his eyes from the sun.
There were three
zombies standing on the street smiling at him.
John slid to his
right without losing eye contact and went back up the stairs, closing the door
when he hit the steps.
, who just got engaged!
into a short film, with production in 2015. Wow!
