DEAD MOON Box Set: Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (Books 1-3) Read online

  NIGHTMARES ARE BORN (Dead Moon Book 1)

  By Matt James

  Description:

  NYPD Detective Frank Moon thought he’d seen everything. Then, a meteor landed in Central Park, exposing the surrounding area to a hellish radiation. Something instantly occurred to those who witnessed its entry into Earth’s atmosphere—something within their genetic code changed. And it happened violently.

  They turned into the things of nightmares.

  They turned into monsters.

  In search of his wife, Frank is forced to weave his way through the chaos that was Manhattan. The space rock, Abaddon, not only carried with it a sinister red glow, but it also brought with it the closest thing to evil anyone had ever seen.

  Also by Matt James

  Stand-Alone Titles

  The Dragon

  Broken Glass

  Dark Island

  Sub-Zero (Coming Soon)

  Dead Moon Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series

  Nightmares are Born

  Home Sweet Hell

  Song of Sorrow

  In Memoriam (Coming Soon)

  Dead Moon Short Stories

  Nightmare at the Museum

  Scared to Death (Coming Soon)

  Dane Maddock Adventures w/David Wood

  Berserk

  Skin and Bones

  Venom

  Hank Boyd Adventures

  Blood and Sand

  Mayan Darkness

  Babel Found

  Elixir of Life

  Hank Boyd Origins

  The Cursed Pharaoh

  Logan Reed Thrillers

  Plague

  Evolve

  PROLOGUE

  “We now go to Kat Anderson, who’s out in the field with NASA meteoroid expert, Dr. James Kent.” Seriously, Kat? I shake my head but continue to watch as the video switches from the anchorman and the studio around him to a curly-haired blonde standing in what looks like the control room of a space station.

  “Thank you, Richard. We’re live inside Kennedy Space Center in Merritt Island, Florida.” She turns from the camera, flipping her hair like a pro. The camera operator pans out showing a man with wild-bleached white hair and tinted glasses. I know from various movies that the tint helps when staring at a computer screen all day. “Dr. Kent, thank you for talking to us on such short notice and with such a historical event taking place in less than two hours.”

  “Yes, yes,” the man says, fidgeting. “You are quite welcome.”

  “Can you tell us a little about the meteor for those who don’t know?”

  He nods emphatically. “Yes, of course. Abaddon, as we’ve come to call it, is an extremely rare occurrence indeed. As far as we know this is the first of its kind to come in contact with our planet in centuries.” He produces a handkerchief and wipes his sweating brow. “As far as my colleagues and I are concerned the only other time something of this elemental make up has arrived on Earth was during the last ice age—our last extinction event.”

  I carefully watch Kat as her practiced smile falters a little. “Extinction event?”

  “Yes, yes. Our planet has gone through five extinction level events since its creation. The last coming sixty-five million years ago when the dinosaurs died out. Like some of you are aware of, we are currently in our sixth such cycle.”

  “Cycle? It sounds like you agree, or at the very least, believe in such a claim.”

  “I do,” Dr. Kent says. “Evidence has shown us as much, and we are the culprit, but that’s neither here nor there. We are here for the meteor are we not?”

  The reporter puts her phony smile back on, but it’s easy to see through it. My training has taught me enough to know when someone is lying. Kat is nervous and scared. “So…” she begins to ask, her voice cracking a little. Scratch that, I think. She’s terrified. “…what else can you tell us about this Abaddon?”

  “Unfortunately, not much. We only know some of its elements from our past research, but there is some excitement brewing around here that there may actually be some previously unknown or undiscovered ones as well. Once it makes its arrival, we’ll know for sure.”

  “What are your plans for it?” she asks.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Anderson, but I’m not at liberty to divulge that until we are certain what we find. The last thing we need is for it to be vandalized before our field team can analyze it. If we do find something that’s…curious…then, we don’t want to cause any hysteria. Chances are this is just another falling body, and we will have nothing to fear. By this time tomorrow, the world will probably forget all about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Meteors collide with Earth all the time. The only reason this one is even talked about is because of its radiant coloration and the possible unknown elements housed within it causing said pigment.” He turns to the camera as if he’s looking directly at me. “But I must implore those that live around the projected impact zone of Manhattan, that you, please stay in your homes if at all possible, just in case.”

  “Just in case?”

  Dr. Kent turns back to the nerve-racked woman. “You never know what can happen. There are a lot of different ways that a rock falling from space can harm you. It’s not a feather I remind you.” He laughs a little but sees the uncomfortable look on the reporter’s face grow and quickly stops. “But that’s more science fiction than science fact, Ms. Anderson. We here at NASA wholeheartedly believe that everything will be fine. So please, do not worry. We have everything under control. I assure you that you and everyone else is safe.”

  1

  Saturday Afternoon / Present Day

  Have you ever done something that you immediately regretted doing, even if what you were doing was in the middle of said action? Well, I have. Funny enough, I’m actually doing that exact thing right at this moment.

  My finger twitches and I reflexively pull the trigger, erasing the son-of-a-bitch’s toothy grin. As soon as the bullet leaves my weapon’s barrel, I wince. The gunshot’s report echoes off the surrounding buildings, sounding ten times louder than it really is.

  Why is this bad? Because not a second after the body hits the concrete, ten more of the little shits take the dead one’s place, funneling in from the alley ahead. Then, another ten. Twenty in all…and boy they’re pissed.

  I call them the Unseen. They have no eyes to speak of, having only scarred flesh where their eyes should be. It’s like looking into an eyeless skull, but with meat…and alive. Pretty horrid. Also, combined with their bald heads, they sorta’ look like the monsters from the Alien movies.

  Xenomorphs, I think they’re called.

  The one—the dead one—that caught me by surprise was standing behind me, not twenty feet away when I turned and saw it just inside the northbound alleyway. I was trying my best to sneak out, through the south alley, attempting to avoid the very situation I now find myself in.

  Anyways, enough explanations. Now, it’s time to run.

  I turn and bolt through the narrow alley, tipping trash cans as I go. The 66th Street Dunkin Donuts passes me in a blur as I head for the closest structure, an apartment building. As soon as my foot strikes asphalt, I turn on the afterburners and sprint as fast as I can. Thankfully, the goblins behind me are slow to react because of their lack of sight, but their sense of smell and acute hearing more than make up for it. They’ll be on me quicker than I can say—and they are. Now all I need is for the customarily locked front door to be open.

  Screw it, I think, not wanting to take the chance. I raise my Glock and fire one shot, spider webbing the glass. Good
enough.

  I leap through, ducking my head and closing my eyes, obliterating it the rest of the way. Slowing down to try the knob isn’t an option right now. It would have taken way too much time—time I don’t have. If it was one or two of them, I could have handled the situation without breaking a sweat.

  Not that sweating is possible right now, I think, feeling a brisk breeze sting my nose and ears as I turn to look back at my pursuers. The winter air is being funneled into the opening I just created.

  It’s too damn cold to sweat and being a Florida transplant, I’m not overly thrilled with the bitter weather. My kind of cold is like fifty degrees, not thirty. Snow is neat on vacation, but living in the stuff is just brutal.

  I slide through the lobby, riding some of the broken glass like an icy sidewalk, stopping in front of the elevators. Damn, I think. It would have been nice if we had power on the island, but alas, we don’t. Not since that fateful night anyways. So instead, I pound through the first floor and head for the stairs in the back-left corner of the room.

  The slapping of bare feet mixed with the clunking of shoes fills the space behind me as I turn the corner. Screeching erupts as a good chunk of the Unseen go down, slipping and sliding on the loose glass. But not all of them are out of it, and those that are won’t be for long. They don’t give up that easily.

  “Why can’t they be vegetarians?” I ask myself as I take the first flight of carpeted steps two at a time. The good news is, the freaks behind me aren’t the most agile of the creatures.

  If they were sirens, I’d be sliced to ribbons for sure.

  Sirens are what I call the women that have turned. They, for the most part, keep their looks, minus the eyes of course. That’s a common trait with all the Unseen. The ladies have elongated nails and are built like triathletes. For whatever reason, the changes the female victims went through are different than the men.

  Men are goblins. Literally… They are hunched and savage, hunting in packs. They have zero of the grace that the sirens have too. Like a group of wild dogs, they snap at each other as they chase their prey, vying for position.

  Like now.

  I hit the landing in between the first two floors and spin, squeezing off three more shots. The first hit strikes gold, sending the nearest goblin spiraling down the stairs. It crashes into four others, tripping them up some. The entire feat acts like a tidal wave of falling bodies on America’s Funniest Home Videos. Each successive monster stumbles the next, which stumbles the next.

  Like I said…not agile.

  It gives me a little breathing room, and I turn and flee once again. My foot hits a slick of something wet as I step into the second-floor hall. I chance a glance as I pass and see what I’ve come to expect.

  Blood…and there’s a lot of it. It’s congealed in the carpet, causing my already soiled shoe to stick. I also notice that it originated under one of the many doors in this particular building. Someone apparently had a massively brutal ending just behind it.

  As my foot pops out of the mud-like goop, I turn my attention back to my escape route. Like a lot of places I’ve visited so far, this residence has seen its share of tragedy. The next set of stairs are a no go because of it.

  More blood. The staircase is coated in the stuff. Plus, the bodies littering them would be terribly difficult to navigate. If I had been going down them instead of trying to scale them, I would have chanced it, but I’m not. So, I opt for Plan B instead.

  From what I’ve seen in my short time on the run, the fire escapes seem to be pretty much clear of debris, including bodies. If there are blockages, they look easy to navigate. I quickly glance left and curse. Then I look right, down towards the end of the hall and frown.

  But first I need access. There isn’t a way out to them through this hallway.

  As I haul ass down the hall, I grab each doorknob testing them. I need to find an open one before it’s too late.

  I try the first five doors on the left, the ones on the outside of the old brick building, finding them locked. Upon turning the sixth knob, something clips my shoulder as I turn to enter the opening door.

  One of the goblins attempts to tackle me to the ground with an uncontrolled leap. It misses though, flailing almost comically down the corridor. Having my share of run-ins with these things, I’m confident in what to expect next.

  It hits the floor and quickly regains its feet, but instead of me just shooting it point-blank, I decide to use the less messy, quieter alternative.

  Shink.

  With a flick of my wrist, I unsheathe my collapsible police baton. The wrist action unfurls the telescopic weapon, and before the half-naked creature can rebound on its missed opportunity, I attack.

  I lash out, striking the thing in the knee like I’m chopping wood, crumpling it to the ground. Then, without hesitation, I bring down the steel shaft on its neck, breaking it with an audible crack. For whatever reason, the Unseen have brittle bones. I’m not about to apologize for the convenience though. I just really like to know all the facts. Call it my policeman’s anal retentiveness for details. Either way, the reason they die easier is something I’ll never question or take for granted. I’ll take any advantage I can get at this point.

  As the goblin dies, a group of six more come screaming around the corner, intent on finishing what their faster, but just as clumsy brother couldn’t. I don’t dawdle. I push open the unlocked door, leap in, and swing it shut, locking it in one fluid motion. I lean against the closed door and breathe in deep, doing my best to catch my breath.

  Boom.

  The door shakes from the other side, causing me to jump and turn back towards it, gun raised. If they try long enough, the horde will make it inside. I’ve seen them claw and eat their way through the drywall once, trying their damnedest to get to someone on the other side.

  “Damn,” I say, slowly looking back over my shoulder. The door bucks again hit once more. My egress is only a few feet behind me. If I can escape before they get inside, I may have a chance of losing them on another floor above me.

  I fully turn, seeing my exit, but stop when something to the left…something—someone in my periphery, catches my attention. Standing still, I glance towards that someone. The sight instantly makes my shoulders drop.

  “Double damn.”

  It’s a siren, and she’s got those dead eyes locked on me. If I was single and into that sort of thing—dead girls I mean—then I might have a go at her, but I’m not…and gross. So, instead, I survey the situation and come up with one distinct likelihood.

  “This may not end well.”

  2

  She leaps across the threshold of the bedroom, arms outstretched. Luckily for me, I anticipated the attack, watching as her legs bent and then flexed. I’m not an expert in the combat styles of a siren, but I do know a little about fighting in general—boxing mostly.

  You could also call it the wannabe Sherlock Holmes in me. I see patterns and use them to exploit my enemy. It’s a method I learned from my father. He’s a retired boxer and was known for his sixth sense in the ring. He never made it big due to numerous head injuries, but he did become a renowned trainer. I was actually one of his pupils once upon a time.

  As soon as she makes her move, I make mine. I slide under her airborne body, entering the master bedroom as she tries to exit it. I bring my already unfurled baton around and slam it down on her bare thigh like Thor would swing Mjolnir. I’m not exactly sure if I did any real damage, but injuring the enemy is always step one.

  Sirens are much quicker than goblins, so in their case, you’ll want to take out their legs if you can. It’s like how an MMA fighter tries to take out their opponent’s legs. If you can injure the foundation, you make the rest of your job—the fight—that much easier. Your chances of winning the battle increase dramatically.

  As she passes over my head, her blood-soaked see-through negligée slips across the side of my face, making me reel back like its acid. It isn’t, though, and I’m fine�
��covered in a stranger’s blood, but fine. It’s not even contagious or anything. At least, I don’t think whatever happened is transmittable. I’m not exactly a trained specialist with the CDC or even a stunt double on the X-Files for that matter.

  It’s just really gross.

  I come out of my roll and turn seeing her land and stumble. Apparently, I did do something, and she’s limping heavily because of it. Her movements are much slower and ungainly, like if a giraffe had a broken leg. Still… I’m still at a severe disadvantage if she gets any closer.

  Being a man, and being drawn to women in revealing outfits, makes this fight even more…interesting. She must have been in the middle of something extra special with her guy friend when she turned into the definition of nasty. It’s then I realize the bedroom window is open. They must have had the curtains drawn back the night the space rock landed.

  Well, I think, at least that explains part of the scene.

  The body to my left clarifies the rest.

  What’s left of it used to be a human being at one point, and it’s completely and utterly destroyed. It looks like a grenade went off dead center in the bed. The only thing left that even remotely looks humanoid are the guy’s hands and feet. They’re still shackled to the bed, hanging limply.

  “A little kinky, don’t you think?”

  She…it…the thing isn’t amused by the banter and quite frankly, neither am I. I use humor to calm myself sometimes, cracking jokes at inappropriate times. Just the thought of a beautiful nympho-demon looking at me with the bad kind of hungry eyes sends a chill down my spine.

  “Well,” I say, stepping forward, “it looks like you got to be the freak you always wanted to be—”

  She attacks again but is a lot slower than before. The bruised and possibly broken leg is definitely slowing her down. She hops towards me and slashes with her clawed hand. I do my best boxing move and shuffle back.