Day by Day Armageddon: Origin to Exile

( 9 )

Overview

GREAT VALUE—TWO ACCLAIMED THRILLERS IN ONE VOLUME, PLUS AN ALL-NEW SHORT STORY!

TWO TERRIFYING THRILLERS OF THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE IN THE ACCLAIMED SERIES FROM J.L. BOURNE

Two shattering accounts of human survival on the jagged edges of global disaster…handwritten journal entries from the front lines in the ...

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Overview

GREAT VALUE—TWO ACCLAIMED THRILLERS IN ONE VOLUME, PLUS AN ALL-NEW SHORT STORY!

TWO TERRIFYING THRILLERS OF THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE IN THE ACCLAIMED SERIES FROM J.L. BOURNE

Two shattering accounts of human survival on the jagged edges of global disaster…handwritten journal entries from the front lines in the war between scattered bands of mortal refugees and their soulless, undead enemies, armies of diseased corpses hungering for human flesh.

DAY BY DAY ARMAGEDDON
The novel that started it all!

DAY BY DAY ARMAGEDDON: BEYOND EXILE
The chilling sequel—chaos and violence across a Texas wasteland.

ALSO INCLUDES THE ALL-NEW SHORT STORY "IF YOU CAN READ THIS…"!

"A dramatic spin on the zombie story." —Jonathan Maberry

"A visceral insight into the psyche of a skilled survivor." —Gregory Solis

"Fantastic…J.L. Bourne is the new king of hardcore zombie action!" —Brad Thor

J.L. Bourne is on active duty as a commissioned U.S. naval officer. He resides in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The next novel in his series of the zombie apocalypse is Day By Day Armageddon: Shattered Hourglass. Visit him at JLBourne.com before the online servers rust out of postapocalyptic existence.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780594429630
  • Publisher: Permuted Press
  • Publication date: 9/27/2011
  • Pages: 528
  • Product dimensions: 6.00 (w) x 8.90 (h) x 1.30 (d)

Meet the Author

J.L. Bourne is a commissioned military officer and acclaimed author of the horror series Day by Day Armageddon, and the dystopian thriller, Tomorrow War. With twenty years of active military and intelligence community service behind him, J.L. brands a realistic and unique style of fiction. He lives on the Gulf Coast but is sometimes spotted toting a rifle and a Bowie knife in the rural hills of Arkansas where he grew up. Visit him at JLBourne.com before the grid goes dark.
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Read an Excerpt

Aftermath

23 May
0057

I started feeling physically better the day of the twenty-first. The attack from the raiders had really busted me up. I got out of bed, drank a gallon of water (over the course of a few hours) and stretched a bit. I asked John what it looked like topside. He didn’t want to say much of anything so I followed him up to the control room to look for myself. The previous night John had rushed out in the darkness and pulled the bag off one of the cameras and dashed back inside. There were undead about and he didn’t wish to be out for long amongst them.

More undead inhabit the area around where the fence was damaged. They are like water, flowing to the point of least resistance. My painful burns are healing, but they were not that awful to begin with. Just a few blisters on my face and other places. Our victory in the last encounter with the insurgents was largely due to chance. What if they hadn’t been convoying cross-country with a fuel truck? We would have probably been executed, unable to overcome their numbers. Outnumbered not only by the undead but by those who wished us dead. I feared the insurgents nearly as much as the creatures. In theory they could at least outstrategize us by putting their heads together and brainstorming on ways to force us from this compound. We do not know how many tangos remain; however, I am sure they still dwarf our numbers.

• • •

On camera number three I could see the charred bodies of men walking about the wreckage of the diesel truck and trailer . . .

Men that I had killed.

That night we went outside and put them down. To avoid muzzle flash, I snuck up on them from behind in the darkness with NVGs, selected single fire on my carbine and popped them in the back of the head with the barrel almost touching the skull. After every depression of the trigger I saw them react to the noise and start moving toward the sound, blind in the darkness. They could still hear, even though many of them had nothing that resembled ears. I repeated this seventeen times before they were all laid to rest.

We noticed that three vehicles had not been harmed badly in the fuel blast from the other night. There was a Land Rover, a Jeep and a late model Ford Bronco a hundred yards from the charred grass zone. John and I approached with caution. Upon closer inspection I discovered that both of the Jeep’s front tires were blown and the window glass was spiderwebbed and concave.

Fifty meters farther were the Land Rover and the Ford. As I approached the Land Rover, I noticed that it appeared to be in very good condition and had no previous owners inhabiting the interior. Bonus. John and I walked up to the door; I opened it and checked the interior more closely. It smelled like pine, probably from the tree hanging on the rearview mirror. We got in and carefully shut the doors just enough for the latch to catch. I reached down to the ignition and turned. It roared to life. I suppose I would leave the keys in it too in a world like this. I looked down at the flimsy plastic tag on the key. It read: Nelm’s Land Rover of Texas.

I suppose the marauders had acquired this vehicle after everything collapsed. The gas tank was three-quarters of the way full and it had three thousand miles on the odometer. Not even broken in. I put the vehicle in gear and sped off back toward the perimeter fence of the compound. When we neared the raider-covered cameras we got out and took turns pulling the bags off them while the other covered.

The hole in the fence was about the same size as the length of the Land Rover. I didn’t feel like doing any fence repair tonight so I brushed up on my parallel parking skills and maneuvered her in front of the fence gap to discourage any of our cold-blooded amigos from getting inside the perimeter.

John climbed out the passenger side; I climbed over the console and also climbed out the passenger side. I hit the lock in the door and slammed it shut, putting the key in my pocket. Who was I kidding? I’m still not leaving the keys in it.

1248

I woke up a couple of hours ago after another painful, sleepless night. My blisters are starting to pop, causing some respectable pain. I have a few blisters around my eyes where my skin was unprotected by my nomex gear. The lump on the back of my head is starting to shrink, and more recently I am noticeably sorer than I was right after my little incident with the tanker. This is a good sign. I am healing.

I have given up on the internet. It is down for the count. The websites that I had been checking to test things out are down, i.e., military bases in the four corners of the United States. No internet activity. It is probably safe to assume that if anyone is out there to log on to the net, it won’t matter. The backbone is shot and it looks like all the IT guys are out to lunch for the next hundred years. The Land Rover has GPS navigation. I went out to check things over and it appears the GPS is only acquiring three satellites for purposes of position finding. I don’t know how long those satellites will remain in orbit without ground control station support as well as the birds we are using to take photographs. We are fast approaching the Iron Age. I keep fighting off the mental urge of self-destructive behavior. I don’t mean this in a “wrist-slitting” way; I suppose I’m just feeling the need to take more risks because I’m tired of being in this predicament . . . but so is everyone else, so I remain. Heading out in a bit with John to attempt to quietly repair the downed fence.

24 May
2344

John and I repaired the fence with the scrap metal and parts left over from the debris from the raider attack. We also retrieved the Ford Bronco. It had four full gas cans in the back. I filled the Land Rover up with one of the gas cans in the event we would be using it in the future. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before but I had totally forgotten about the aircraft throughout all of this. I remembered just as John was pulling up in the Bronco. John and I went to the tree line to see if it had been tampered with or possibly damaged by stray fire. It was just as I left it. The foliage I had placed on the plane to hide it was withered and brown, making it stand out a little. John and I gathered more branches, improving the overall camouflage of the aircraft before we left it to its solitude.

The undead in this area have been scattered. The marauders neutralized many of them as they herded them back and forth around the compound. The cameras only show a few stragglers at the front blast door. The rock-bearing freak is still shambling about there and has been for over a month. It is banging on the blast door, marching to the beat of its own drum. The empty missile silo is a mess; John and I don’t even want to bother with it. I don’t know what is causing these things to get up and walk around after death and I don’t wish to be shuffling around down there and accidentally cut myself on an infected jawbone. If I had a cement truck, I would fill up the fucking hole and just forget about it.

28 May
1851

We are still alive, but our scenario echoes of those that were in the hospital on life support before all of this happened. They were living on borrowed time, doomed to die. We are one and the same. Eventually the averages will catch me. It’s the when that is the real clincher.

I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on another fuel tanker (and not blowing it up) so that we would have fuel for any expeditions we may need to undertake. I could park it a safe distance from the compound, learning from the raiders’ mistake. It would definitely be worth the risk to have an overabundant source of gasoline. I am not sure how much those tankers hold; however, I am sure one of them would supply enough fuel for our two vehicles here for an extended period. Finding one should not be that difficult, as we could cherry-pick one from the interstate up north a few miles.

2105

More code language on the radios. This time they are switching the frequency every minute to what I assume is a planned order. Good COMSEC.

31 May
0118

I cannot sleep. Tara and I talked for a few hours today. I feel like I have no more purpose, and I’m not alone in this. Many of us miss normal, we miss when punching a clock and doing a job was boring. At least before all of this happened I had a job and goals. My only goal now is to stay alive. The adults got together today in the recreation room and drank some rum and had a good old time. I almost forgot about our situation in my alcohol-induced euphoria. I needed the release. We have been eating the compound’s packaged meals since our arrival here. I would like some variety in my diet but shopping is getting more dangerous by the day.

It has been Memorial Day for an hour and a half. Tara and I went outside yesterday to pick some wild Texas flowers as sort of a memorial to everyone we have lost. I personally don’t think there are enough flowers in the world. It pains me to no end to think of my mother and father walking the hills of our land like those creatures. I’m almost tempted to go home, just to see for myself and put them to rest like a decent son should.

Laura’s schooling is coming along. Jan asked me to teach Laura some world history since I enjoyed it in my former life as an officer. Laura’s eyes grew wide when I told her the stories of how the United States came about and how men walked on the moon and such. She has never known a world without smart phones, HDTV or the internet and she’s far too young to have ever seen Schoolhouse Rock. I’d give just about anything to be sitting in my living room on an early 1980s Saturday morning singing about being just a bill, sittin’ on Capitol Hill. I feel a bit of guilt that she has no peers and that there is no little boy to pull her pigtails in school.

I really need my sleep as John and I have a little trip planned in the aircraft tomorrow. We are going out to find some fuel for the plane and do some reconnaissance. This time we won’t be flying so low as to invite small-arms fire. I have my charts from our trip to Matagorda Island that cover this area’s airports. I would also like to find some sort of synthetic camouflage netting to better disguise the aircraft.

© 2010 J. L. Bourne

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 9 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Posted September 28, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Two Previous Novel In One Good Value for the Money

    Day By Day Armageddon Origin to Exile First I love omnibuses. Not the big red ones in London, the book type compilation of a series or combination of some stand alones. I like them because the save me money and I love them because they often include an entire series and I am one of those freaks of nature that hate starting a series until I own the whole thing. This is an omnibus containing the original book, Day by Day Armageddon and the follow up, Day by Day Armageddon: Beyond Exile. These are Zombie genre books. They are presented as hand written entries in a journal of a survivor. The links go to my original reviews. This book contains a short but again disturbing Zombie tale of twin survivors. Look for the omnibus it will save you money and perhaps hook you on the Zombie genre.

    5 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 4, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    This is an omnibus reprinting of the first two Armageddon journals and a very short story

    "Day by Day Armageddon." He is stationed in San Antonio. As he starts a diary, he is unprepared for the Dead attacking cities around the world. The soldier must decide on survival of the deadest with his friend John as his only trusted ally.

    "Day by Day Armageddon: Beyond Exile." He continues keeping his log having survived three months. With other humans he stays at the Hotel 23 where he fought against fellow breathers but suffers from PTSD. However, he must leave the relatively safety of Hotel 23 on a mission that will take months in which he doubts he will return as the zombie infestation has crippled the world.

    "If You Can Read This..." Texas like the rest of the country is gone. Twins Brook and Eugene struggle with the deaths of their parents and younger brother, but take hope in a radio transmission they receive at the local fire station of a person claiming to be at Matagorda Island.

    This is an omnibus reprinting of the first two Armageddon journals and a very short story. The novels employ a refreshing technique of a survivor in a post-apocalyptic America overrun by zombies. This diary technique is two edged as the audience sees what the hero encounters and knows his demons, but also the first person account is a filter for what others believe and somewhat passive especially when the protagonist muses. Still these are enjoyable horror tales that is summed up by Eugene in seven words when he says "If You Can Read This..."

    Harriet Klausner

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 11, 2011

    i dont like it

    i am a big fan of jl bournes day by day books but i was expecting the 3rd book to pick up from beyond exile but i get the book and its just both books in one im disappointed in this book now

    3 out of 14 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted April 3, 2013

    DO NOT BUY THIS AS A NOOKBOOK! B&N sends you book 1 only.

    DO NOT BUY THIS AS A NOOKBOOK! B&N sends you book 1 only. I believe this value version is only available in print copy (based on Amazon's site) I tried to explain this error to B&N and got nowhere. I loved the book though. Keeps your interest and I like the journal format. I can't wait to read book 2.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 21, 2012

    This was a great book. Rather than buy each book individually, I

    This was a great book. Rather than buy each book individually, I saved
    some money by getting this one. It has the first and second book in it,
    with an extra short story to boot! I really liked the main characters
    way of preparing himself for the Z-poc, like filling his tub with water
    (You never know when you'll run out :-p) or setting up his webcam to
    survey his front lawn!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 1, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Very highly recommended

    Very well written. Believable situations. The only down side was when i read the last page and no info on a 3rd book to finalize the story. I would definitly buy it if i were you. I cant wait to see if he is going to wrap thed story lne up or not.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 5, 2014

    Loved It!

    Loved It!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 8, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted November 19, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

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