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“…very violent story seems a bit different than your average zombie/maniac lore…”

YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE THIS.

The COLD RAGE button reveals an excerpt from the novel.
CLICK IMAGE FOR SOME SWEET VIOLENCE

He pulled the knife out of the snow and plunged it into the mutant’s throat just as the mutant freed the hatchet with a triumphant grin. He looked down at Frank with puzzled indignation. He dropped the hatchet and reached up for the knife, but Frank ripped it out through the side of his neck.

Blood arced out in a terrific spray. A fan of red in the snow. Blood splashed into Frank’s face and onto his bare chest. The gurgling mutant staggered up and cupped his hands in front of the fountain of blood, trying to catch it. His eyes glossed over and he stumbled to the corner of the shed and fell on his face.

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“…way too violent, just in the gratuitous sense…”

MY MOTHER WON’T EVEN TALK TO ME ANYMORE.

The COLD REASON button reveals an excerpt from the novel.
CLICK IMAGE FOR SOME MORE SWEET VIOLENCE

Dickerson’s horror-wide eye stared up into Amador’s as he gurgled out his last breath. Amador felt the blood in his belly. Felt his body respond as his mind rebelled. He clenched his throat shut, forcing his gag reflex still.

He wouldn’t look as Dickerson died. Wouldn’t look as he pulled the pen free. Wouldn’t think about how sweet the blood had tasted. God help me. Energy rushed into him and spread his senses out. Everything seemed bright and possible.

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“…you get a feel for the emotion, rage and yes, love…”

YEAH, ABOUT THAT. . .

The COLD RELEASE button reveals an excerpt from the novel.
CLICK IMAGE FOR EVEN MORE SWEET VIOLENCE

Shallow breaths. Focus. He pictured his situation in his mind. Floated out and above. Pinned through the thick muscle in his thigh, a tree trunk of flesh. Through his face. Another through his shoulder. The dangling hand slick and black. He walked his right hand across his body and rested it on his left hip. The thought of the pain of what he was about to do brought the tears back up. Shuddering sobs he tried to swallow.

He put everything into the stroke that brought his fist up into his left armpit with violent power. A pinpoint of fear rode the crescendo of agony. Please. A pleading fear. I can’t do it twice. The broken ball of his shoulder tore free of the shattered socket, and the flesh parted in a shower of blood. His scream echoed off the rocks and trees. Primal and inhuman, it split the freezing silence and filled his mind, trailing into a wheeze as gray filled his vision.

The cold worked into all the exposed skin. His teeth chattered, and a shuddering convulsion brought a whine to his lips. Fresh tears, even squeezing through the swollen mass of his left eye. Before he lost his resolve in the hesitation brought on by fear and pain, he planted his left foot as high as he could and jerked his head back as he drove his body up. Above the sharp point that had jammed through his face, and it tore free. Blood and snot gushed out of his cheek and throat, filling his mouth. Choking his shout of triumph into a gagging cough. The tree sprung away and rebounded, crashing into his nose with a crush of bone that drove more blood into his throat.

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It’s okay if you can’t handle it. Here’s a short story to ease you into the pool.

The DEVIL A FOOTHOLD button reveals the short story link.
CLICK IMAGE TO DIP YOUR TOE IN

A dark little tale of recovery and revenge from the world of the COLD RAGE trilogy. DOWNLOAD IN PDF

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