By Joe McKinney
Battered by way of 3 devastating hurricanes in a row, the Texas coast is flattened. yet for the folk of Houston—and quickly all of America—the such a lot terrifying occasions are only starting. . .
They upward push. . .
Out of the flooded streets of Houston, they emerge from plague-ridden waters. lifeless. Rotting. Hungry. And as human survivors scramble to their rooftops for safeguard, the zombie hordes circle like sharks. The final killing machines.
They Feed. . .
Houston is quarantined to halt the unfold of the zombie plague. somebody attempting to get away is shot on sight—living and lifeless. Emergency Ops sergeant Eleanor Norton has her paintings reduce out for her. Salvaging boats and accumulating explosives, Eleanor and her workforce fight to keep up order. but if civilization eventually breaks down, the feeding frenzy begins.
They Multiply. . .
Biting, gnawing, feasting—but constantly yearning more—the flesheaters raise their ranks each hour. With doomsday looming, Eleanor needs to concentrate on the folk she loves—her husband and daughter—and a band of alternative survivors adrift in zombie-infested waters. If she can't convey them into the quarantine quarter, they're all useless meat.
Praise for Joe McKinney and His Novels
"A cruel, fast moving and really frightening learn that would go away you completely breathless." —Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Brian Keene on Dead City
"Compelling. . .with a lightning-fast speed. Earns its position in any library of dwelling lifeless fiction." —New York Times Bestselling writer Jonathan Maberry on Apocalypse of the Dead
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Extra info for Flesh Eaters (Dead World, Book 3)
John! ” The thing gave chase, its shaved-ham feet slapping the floor behind me. My candle went out. I tossed it aside. I saw a closed door to my right, so I skidded to a stop, threw it open, and flung myself in. Linen shelves smacked me in the face and I fell back out of the closet, dazed. The meat man wrapped its cold links around my neck and lifted me up. It pinned me against the wall. “You disappoint me. All those times we have dueled. In the desert. In the city. ” I was so impressed by this thing’s ability to articulate words using that flapping deer tongue and a frozen turkey that I almost lost track of what it was saying.
My adopted family moved away, I won’t tell you where they are. But get out your pen because you’ll want to write this down. My biological mom? ” “That must have been hard. What was the—” “She was a strung-out, crank-addicted cannibal, dabbled in vampirism and shamanism. My mom, she worshipped some major devil when I was a toddler. Blew her welfare check every month on black candles. Sure, Satan would do her favors now and then, but there’s always a catch with the Devil. ” “No. This, this silliness, it’s what I do when I’m nervous.
I spun around, moved toward the commotion. The dog seemed to eye me carefully, then ran off in the other direction. I looked around— Ah. Giggling now. There was a bundle of girls, away from the stage, huddled with their backs to the band. They were surrounding a black guy with dreadlocks, an overcoat. He had one of those Rastafarian berets on his head, definitely going for a look, wanting the attention. Two of the girls had their hands over their mouths, eyes bulging, screaming for the guy to do it again, do it again.
Flesh Eaters (Dead World, Book 3) by Joe McKinney