Category: Robert Chazz Chute

Robert Chazz Chute new zombie release!

18/6/2014

I have the absolute pleasure to introduce to you today Robert Chazz Chute. An author, and blogger, with a brain that is a pit jam-packed full of useful information. Seriously, you should go sign up to his blog, it's brilliant.
Anyway, he's here today to tell us about his new release. I say new, it came out last week, but it's still a baby in the world. If you're looking for well written horror, then look no further.

Let's get to know him a little more before you make your mind up though.

Chazz.

I write horror, suspense, crime novels and some non-fiction. I love twisted and twisty stories with gut-punch endings. My influences are William Goldman, Stephen King, Chuck Palahniuk and Kurt Vonnegut. The author of ten books, I'm a former newspaper journalist, magazine columnist and award winning writer. My bunker office is under a volcano somewhere in the Canadian Shield guarded by a clone army of ninja monkey assassins.

When I'm not writing, I host the All That Chazz podcast and the Cool People Podcast. I prefer verisimilitude to reality. To improve chances of happiness, pull a book over your head.

Social Media Links

Email | The Plague Of Days | Chazz Writes | Twitter |
All That Chazz | Cool People Podcast | Decision To Change

This Plague Of Days Synopsis

This Plague of Days, Season 3 is the finale to an ambitious dark fantasy series. Season One began with one killer virus that spreads around the globe. What’s unique about the story is we see how civilization collapses. It doesn’t happen overnight. More intriguing, we see the fall through the eyes of a teenaged boy on the autistic spectrum. He’d rather read Latin dictionaries than fight for the future of the human race.

The action takes place across continents. (Sorry about London, England! It was lovely!) As the end of the world progresses, the virus keeps evolving and life gets more dangerous for the survivors. The autistic boy is our unlikely champion against terrifying enemies, but my zombies are infected (the 28 Days Later variety of cannibal, not the rise-from-the-grave kind.) It’s packed with cliffhangers and surprise twists and there’s even a secret that begins in Season One that isn’t revealed until the conclusion of the series. I’m pretty sure it’s the only zombie apocalypse with an autistic hero.

(Readers who choose the TPOD Omnibus can qualify for an extra free ebook, as well.)

Season 3 Excerpt

The helicopter gunship alit like a shiny, black bug on the overgrown lawn by the Manitoba Disease Research Centre’s reflecting pool. Two men in gas masks and camouflage carrying M-16s leapt out just before the machine touched the ground. They were followed by a short, thin woman in a wrinkled khaki uniform. Stepping from the helo, her big, black sunglasses made her look vaguely insectile, as if the helicopter had given birth.

         Private Kennefic didn’t recognize the tan uniform, but he knew what the bird pins at the officer’s collar meant. He gave a sharp salute. “Colonel!”

         “Where is everybody, Private?”

         Kennefic looked confused.

         “Where is the rest of your security team? Any Canadian Forces snipers lurking anywhere, for insurance?”

         “Our host country’s forces are spread a bit thin on the ground, sir. You could fit ’em all in one big hockey arena, so I’m it, sir. After the Brickyard attack, someone told me to take Dr. Merritt to the next available lab. This is it, sir.”

         “Don’t be afraid, Private. But they really didn’t think to provide Dr. Merritt with more security?”

         Kennefic looked like he was trying to do advanced math in his head.

         The colonel sighed. “You have permission to speak freely, Private.”

         “Things were…in disarray in Indianapolis, sir. We were lucky to get a helo. I don’t think the officer in charge thought Dr. Merritt would survive the flight so — ”

         “I got it, Private. No need for your life story.”

         “Sorry, sir.”

         “Where’s Merritt and his team?”

         “In the lab, sir. It’s Dr. Harper you probably want to talk to, though.”

         “I’ll talk to whomever I want.”

         “Yes, sir.”

         The men accompanying the colonel looked at each other. Kennefic couldn’t see their faces — even the thick lenses were tinted dark. He imagined that, under those gas masks, they were grinning at the show their ball-buster-in-command put on. They irritated Kennefic so he decided to show some spine.

         “Whomever shall I say is coming to call, sir?”

         “Colonel Dabnitz. NWO.”

         “NWO, sir? Never heard — ”

         “Private, before the fall of my beloved United States and the rest of the world, we had more than 3,300 alphabet agencies devoted to our security. Are you familiar with all 3,300 and more of those agencies?”

         “No, sir.”

         “Well, here we are and the expiry date on the usefulness of the box that is your head has just passed. Take me to your civilian, Private.”

         “Yes, sir.”

         Kennefic hadn’t marched in a long time, but he showed the colonel the way. He ushered them past five locked doors using his key card. His voice ID got them past the sixth lock to the lowest level, the dangerous bio-hazard lab.

         “I’ll tell them you’re here, sir.”

         “No need. We’ll announce ourselves.”

         The colonel yanked the .45 from Kennefic’s holster before the private could guess anything was wrong. His first clue was the butt of a rifle cracking the bone in his forehead. His legs went loose and boneless beneath him. Kennefic collapsed against the cold wall. Helpless, he stared up as the men removed their headgear. Both of them had bright white eyes. The one who crouched over him scared him most. His breath smelled of meat and an odd metallic odor. Blood.

         “Missed you in Indianapolis, Private.”

         It was the smile that made Kennefic think he might lose control of his bladder. Unlike the other man, this one’s canine teeth were slightly longer. Through the fog of his concussion, Kennefic took a moment to process what he was seeing. Those weren’t fake, Halloween fangs. They looked sharp.

         “NWO,” the colonel said, “stands for New World Order, idiot. Can I eat him now, Misericordia?”

         “Save your appetite for the docs.”

         The intruders’ eyes burned bright, more animal than man. A snippet of a half-forgotten poem heard in childhood swam to Private Tristan Kennefic just before the blood from his brain hemorrhage drowned all thought in his skull.

            …Tiger, tiger, burning bright…in the forests of the night…