The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World
Read The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World Online
Authors: Brian Keene
THE RISING:
SELECTED SCENES FROM THE END OF THE WORLD
BRIAN KEENE
First Digital Edition
Published by:
Delirium Books
P.O. Box 338
North Webster, IN 46555
www.deliriumbooks.com
The Rising: Selected Scenes From The End Of The World
© 2008, 2009 by Brian Keene
Cover Artwork © 2008, 2009 by Alan M. Clark All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Shane Ryan Staley, who knows a good thing when
he sees it. Lets ride the wave of mutilation.
Special Thanks to:
Trygve V. Botnen, Mark Beauchamp,
Shannon and Allison Wuller, Roman P. Wuller, Tony and Kim at Camelot Books, Terry Tidwell, Chris Hansen, Brian Lee, Michael Nolan, Jade Rumsey, Robert T. Shea, Jamie La Chance, William A. King, Eddie Coulter, Penny Khaw, Leigh Haig, Larry Roberts, Paul Goblirsch, Michael and Karen Templin, Mike Goffee, Terry Schue, Stephen Griglak, Edward Etkin, H Michael Casper, Donald Koish, Michael Bland, Paul Legerski, Robert Lewis, Christopher Lee Shackelford, Jason Houghton, Bob Ford, and Paul Puglisi.
NOVELS:
The Rising
City of the Dead
Terminal
Ghoul
Dead Sea
Kill Whitey
The Conqueror Worms
(also published as
Earthworm Gods
)
Dark Hollow
(also published as
The Rutting Season
)
Clickers II: The Next Wave
(with J.F. Gonzalez)
COLLECTIONS:
Fear of Gravity
No Rest for the Wicked
No Rest at All
Sympathy for the Devil: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 1
Running with the Devil: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 2
The New Fear: The Best of Hail Saten Vol. 3
NOVELLAS & CHAPBOOKS:
Take the Long Way Home
The Resurrection and the Life
Shades (
with Geoff Cooper)
The Rise & Fall of Babylon
(with John Urbancik)
The Rising: Necrophobia
(with Brett McBean, Michael Oliveri, and John Urbancik)
MISCELLANY:
Talking Smack
The Rising: Death in Four Colors
(with Zac Atkinson)
AS EDITOR:
In Delirium
The Best of Horrorfind
The Best of Horrorfind II
This is a book about the end of the Earth, specifically, the end of the Earth at the hands of the Siqqusim, Elilum, and Teraphim, led by Ob, Ab, and Api.It does not have a happy ending.
(Can’t say I didn’t warn you this time, fuckers.) I can’t imagine this holds true for any of you, but I guess I’d better say it anyway. If you haven’t read
The Rising
or
City of the Dead
, you might want to do so before going any further. Like
The Rising:
Necrophobia
(which it also wouldn’t hurt to re-read),
The Rising: Selected Scenes From The End Of The World
chronicles what was happening across the rest of the world during my entire zombie mythos; from the appearance of the very first zombie (“Don’s Last Mosh”) to civilization’s breakdown (“Last Chance For La Chance”) to the finale; the planet’s fiery, post
City of the Dead
destruction (“Two Suns In The Sunset”). There’s even a glimpse of what lays beyond that—a peek into the Labyrinth. I don’t recap the previous books, and I’m assuming that readers will understand what the hell is going on. So if you aren’t familiar with the series, and refuse to do your homework, hang on tight and try to figure it the fuck out as we go along. The rest of you know very well what’s in store (insert evil laughter here). These stories coincide with events from the previous three books. Although you won’t see any of the main characters, you’ll catch glimpses of how Jim, Martin, and Frankie’s actions affect these tales. You’ll find references to events from the books, including
The Rising: Necrophobia
. You’ll even run into a few minor characters from
The Rising
. And, if you look carefully, you’ll find these stories overlapping with each other, as well. When Shane Staley of Delirium Books originally pitched this idea, I was less than enthusiastic. He offered money. I waved it away. Prestige. I just laughed. He sent over a Swedish Women’s Volleyball team, but even then, I had my doubts. To be honest, I didn’t want to write this book. I’d said all I had to say about zombies, and figured I was burned out. But Shane, being the two-fisted editor (read: slave-driver) that he is, twisted my arm until I relented. (As I write this, he’s trying to convince me to do the same thing with the
Earthworm Gods
mythos, and the fact that he’s still alive to publish this book is a testimony to our relationship because I would have shot anybody else by now.) In all seriousness, I’m glad Shane convinced me to do this, because halfway through the first story, I remembered why I love zombies, and why I enjoy writing about them so much. It was very easy to become “The Zombie Guy” again, and I was glad for the opportunity. You’ll find some more new twists, things that I wish I could go back and add to the other books (and make sure you read the Afterword for a nice bit involving undead opossums from New Zealand).
This was a lot of fun. I had a good time with it. I hope you do, too.
Our first stop is Escanaba, Michigan, and the show is about to start…
Brian Keene
Journey’s End, Pennsylvania
November 2005
* * *
* * *
The Rising
Day One
Escanaba, Michigan
Don Koish shuffled forward with the rest of the sheep. In front of him, a bleached-blonde girl with an ass that was barely concealed by her low cut jeans, giggled in excitement. Behind him, a surly Goth, decked out in black and smoking a clove cigarette, sneered at nobody in particular and bumped into Don again.
Don preferred the blonde. She looked nicer. Smelled nicer, too.
He studied the other fans in line. It was a mixed crowd. Thirty-something metal heads and twentysomething backwards baseball hat-wearing homeboys and skate punks in tattered Ramones T-shirts (paying homage to a band that some of their parents listened to). With its hip-hop rhythms and vocals and its mind-searing, Slayer-like guitar riffs, Necessary Evil’s music appealed to a wide cross spectrum, and they were out in force tonight. The Delft Theatre used to be a movie house, before the multi-screen complex opened up across town. It was nothing special, but bands, on their way up or their way down, played there from time to time. It could hold a thousand people, and Necessary Evil looked like it would fill that bill.
The blonde giggled again and backed up, pressing her ass right against his groin. She gasped, and turned around.
“Sorry,” Don said, grinning. His ears turned red. The blonde snapped her gum at him and resumed her conversation with her friend. He didn’t blame her. Don knew all-too well what an imposing figure he cut. He was built like a refrigerator and his shaved head made him look like a club bouncer or mob muscle. He dug the look. It worked for him. Especially in the pit…
Necessary Evil’s mosh pits were legendary, and Don had been waiting six months to try it out for himself, ever since the concert was first announced. He watched some of the younger concert-goers, cocky, arrogant little fuckers that would get in the pit and try to break noses, arms, head—stomp, punch, hit—and call it moshing. He couldn’t stand that shit, and if any of them pulled it on him, they’d be sorry. Stupid fucks. It was that kind of a mentality that led to what happened at that Suicide Run concert in Pennsylvania a few years back. Or even Dimebag Darrel’s death—no respect for the artists. Don wasn’t sure when, but sometime between Anthrax’s
Among the Living
and Hatebreed’s latest release, it had all become about the violence. The music was forgotten. Same thing happened with hip-hop. From Run DMC’s “Adidas” to Dr. Dre capping motherfuckers’ left and right. The whole world seemed to have gone insane lately. Everybody was angry. Everybody wanted to break things.
Eventually, the doors opened, and the line rushed forward. Don was swept up with them, and managed to cop one more glance at the blonde’s ass before she vanished into the crowd.
He got his hand stamped so that he wouldn’t be sequestered with the under-21 crowd, and then made his way to the bar. He sipped a cold beer and watched the women. None of them had anything on his wife, Debbie. Don missed her. He wished she could have come along, but she wasn’t into Necessary Evil’s music, and had stayed home with the kids. He’d kissed her goodbye before he left. She’d been watching the evening news, something about an accident at a government research facility on the east coast.
A local disc jockey came out on stage and tried to warm up the crowd. He was met with boos and jeers. When he was done promoting the station’s lame, Howard Stern rip-off morning show, the opening band, Your Kid’s On Fire, took the stage. Don had never heard them, but it was clear that the younger kids in the club had. A mosh pit erupted in front of the stage as the band launched into their first song.
The music was typical Nordic black-metal; growly metal is what Don called it. He watched in amused disgust as one kid leaped into the air and landed on another’s back. The unlucky individual crashed to the floor and disappeared beneath a wave of swarming bodies.
Don spied the blonde from the line outside. She was standing at the edge of the circle, laughing with her friends and watching with excited interest. Suddenly, a guy with an eight ball tattooed on his forehead lunged forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the pit. A fist crashed into her jaw, and the gum flew from her mouth.
“Hey,” Don shouted, rising from his seat at the bar. “That’s fucked up!”
He slammed his beer down on the bar and waded into the fray. Blood streamed from the girls head, and then she vanished from sight, bobbing helplessly in the frantic sea of moshers. When Don spied her again, her nose was a swollen, spurting, crimson bulb.