Plague of the Dead: The Morningstar Saga
By Z.A. Recht
4.5/5
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About this ebook
The end begins with a viral outbreak unlike anything mankind has ever encountered before. The infected are subject to delirium, fever, a dramatic increase in violent behavior, and a one-hundred percent mortality rate. But it doesn’t end there. The victims return from death to walk the earth. When a massive military operation fails to contain the living dead it escalates into a global pandemic. In one fell swoop, the necessities of life become much more basic. Gone are petty everyday concerns. Gone are the amenities of civilized life. Yet a single law of nature remains: Live, or die. Kill, or be killed. On one side of the world, a battle-hardened general surveys the remnants of his command: a young medic, a veteran photographer, a brash Private, and dozens of refugees, all are his responsibility—all thousands of miles from home. Back in the United States, an Army colonel discovers the darker side of Morningstar virus and begins to collaborate with a well-known journalist to leak the information to the public...and the Morningstar Saga has begun.
Z.A. Recht
Z.A. Recht (1983 — 2009) authored the Morningstar Strain series.
Read more from Z.A. Recht
Survivors Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Thunder and Ashes Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Readers find this title to have a plot that keeps them engaged and great characters. Some readers find the multiple storylines confusing, but overall it is a well-written book that leaves them wanting to read more.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Great Start to a great series
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5So good!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Great characters, well written and a plot that will keep you wanting to read 1 more page. Overall a 5/5 stars book.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5There were too many stories happening simultaneously that it was sometimes difficult to keep up. The book picked up in the end. Not sure if I’ll read the rest of the series.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Based on the author’s experiences as a young child in the Khmer Rouge’s Cambodia in the 1970’s, this novel contrasts the worst in human behavior with the astonishing ability to dream of better times. Despite loss and starvation, forced labor and wanton cruelty, young Raami never gives up her belief in the power of stories to save us, the power of words as wings.
One thought, and I wonder if any other readers had this reaction. I really enjoyed reading this book, although enjoyed is not quite the right word - more accurately, I appreciated reading it. But I kept wondering about the author's decision to tell the entire story from the first person point-of-view of a child. On the one hand, the child's innocence balances the horror of the facts. On the other hand, I craved a more layered perspective, a more complex telling. I kept wishing, odd as it may sound, for a glimpse into the inner world of one of the Khmer Rouge "organization" believers. But that's just me, I guess...
I keep going back and forth between three stars and four; three and a half! - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A powerful, eloquent debut novel about a Cambodian family experiencing the upheavel and terror in the time of the Khmer Rouge told from a young girl's perspective.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A harrowing tale of the Khmer Rouge regime in 1970s Cambodia. Raami, the narrator, enjoys a life of privilege and luxury as the daughter of a royal prince until the abrupt communist takeover and ensuing chaos. Forced out of the cities, separated from family members, and closely monitored in forced labor camps, Raami struggles to survive in a world that increasingly makes little sense and follows few rules. A good book and one that has inspired me to learn more about Cambodia's history.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I was really disappointed in this novel. Had read so many reviews that made it sound so breathtaking. And it was..just not in a writing style I could get into. I was sooooo bored throughout most of the book. There was just to much descriptive writing for me. Towards the end it finally started to hold my interest but we're talking the last few chapters. So, yes, this is a beautiful book with an account of a historical time that is heartrending and if you like this still of writing you will love it. If like me you don't you will find yourself taking forever to read it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I remember with horror the news reports of the mid-to-late-1970s genocide in the killing fields of Cambodia. It's bad enough to catch a chilling snippet of insanity on the evening news and quite another to read a detailed account as told through the eyes of a child. Seven-year-old Raami is living in the paradise of a sheltered life in a luscious family compound in Phnom Penh when her world is turned upside down by the revolutionaries of the Khmer Rouge who turn them out into the streets and eventually out of the city. As they are relocated several times, Raami holds on to her poet father's words of hope in the midst of chaos and starvation: "No matter what ugliness and destruction you may witness around you, I want you always to believe that the tiniest glimpse of beauty here and there is a reflection of the gods' abode. It is real, Raami. There exists such a place, such sacred space. You have only to envision it, to dare to dream it. It is within you, within all of us." (72) The words and stories from her father sustain her as she loses her family members and becomes a skeleton-like robot working for the "organization" that promises a better life for all. This book is beyond sad especially knowing that the author experienced many of the atrocities she writes about. It is not a memoir per se but a fiction book based upon her memories. This account of historical fiction gives a look into the hearts of the Cambodian survivors as they are stripped of their possessions and means of livelihood, leaving only the stories of their families and memories of happier times. In all, approximately 25 per cent of the country's population died from executions and starvation. Shameful.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A novelized tribute to the author's father and family in their struggle to survive the Communist Revolution in Cambodia. It is a story of tragedy and renewal written in such a poetic and wonderful manner that the book will captivate your soul. It is the best book that I have read this year and is a modern classic in my opinion. It is truly a fine tribute to Viddey Ratner's family and friends that she lost over those painful years.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This was a very powerful book. In the Author's Note, Ms Ratner reveals that this story "is, in essence, my own." I had grown to suspect that because I didn't think anyone could write so convincingly unless they had experienced the events.Raami is a seven-year-old girl living in Phnom Penh with her extended family when the Khmer Rouge take over. Immediately they are evicted from their home as is everyone who lives in the city. Initially they go to their summer home but are soon evicted from there. They are transported to a small country monastery where they start to settle in. Raami's father is a famous poet but, more importantly for the Khmer Rouge, he is a prince and a member of the privileged class. In order to save the rest of the family he gives himself up. Raami never sees him again. Still, she has her mother, her baby sister, her uncle and aunt and their boys and her grandmother. That is until it is decided that the family must be torn apart. Raami, her mother and her sister are sent to live with a peasant couple who have no children. But after a peaceful period the Organization decides to disrupt their life again. This occurs again and again. Chaos is constant and people are killed on a whim. If they aren't murdered outright they starve to death or die of disease. Obviously, since the author wrote this book, she survived. I think she was chosen to live so that she could bear witness and write about the atrocities.There is a powerful spiritual message running through this book. Raami often communes with her father and other members of her family who have died. If it is true that the spirits of people who have died in violent circumstances continue to be tied to the places where they lived then Cambodia must be overrun with spirits.Highly recommended.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Powerful historical fiction based on the author's own childhood during the Khmer Rouge terrors in Cambodia. She relates the horror of the desolation through childhood eyes relying forever on the memory of her father to keep hope alive.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This is going to be a quickie but wow, was this a terrific read. It documents the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia between 1975 and 1979. The story is told through the eyes of a seven-year-old girl, named Raami, who is the ideal narrator. The prose is beautiful, but the narrative is heart-rending. Keep plenty of tissues handy. Here are a couple nuggets:“But the real reason we stayed, I sensed, was simply that we couldn’t bear to leave the place where Papa had last been, where the ground echoed with his footsteps, the trees heaved his sighs, and the pond mirrored his tranquility.”“It was a sick sky. A sky burning with welts. Angry and red. The colors of rotting flesh, of dying and death, of one heaving last breath. Of rains that hadn’t come, and rains that came a long time ago.”Edit More
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This coming of age story takes place during the rise of the Khmer Rouge, told through the eyes of seven year old Raami. Her happy like with her parents and baby sister come to an abrupt halt as the Khmer Rouge forces them to leave their home and take refuge in the countryside under the eyes of soldiers of "The Organization". Raami's family is in danger as her father has royal blood and is a well-known poet. He is taken by the Khmer Rouge and Raami is devastated and has to grow up sooner than any child should have to.It is amazing that anyone can write so beautifully while telling a story about a horrific time in history. Be prepared to be moved to tears.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Moving.I was part way through this book (on Kindle - no back cover to read) before I realised that it was semi-autobiographical. Knowing this made it so much more powerful. It is a story of amazing courage and determination to live. The author was only 5 years old in 1975, when the change in regime that resulted in the atrocities of the Killing Fields of Cambodia, occurred.The narrator of this novel is seven at the start. She is from a wealthy family, related to the King, and has never known any hardship. As news filters through of the Khmer Rouge's uprising in the town, the adults realise that their lives could be changed as a result, but no one could have had any inkling of the serious nature of this change.The 'Organisation's' method of control was to instil fear and panic, separating family groups and forcing everyone to work at a punishing rate, on megre rations. All this is recorded historically, but the strength of this book was the incidious way that things seemed to get gradually worse and worse, along with the telling of events with the naiivity of a seven year old.For someone who didn't speak a word of English until she was eleven years old, Vaddey Ratner's descriptions are wonderful:"...the whole house was hot and stuffy, like the inside of a balloon."and "Pok looked at me. Silence seemed to have overtaken him again. Then his face broke open like the morning sun."There is an author's note at the back of the book, explaining how she came to write it and how difficult it was to relive these events. I sincerely hope it was theraputic for her.An excellent, if harrowing, read. Highly recommended.Also read (with my ratings)Stay Alive, My Son by Pin Yathay (5 stars)The Disappeared by Kim Echlin (4 stars)
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5They say write what you know. In the Shadow of the Banyan is a fictionalized account of Vaddey Ratner's own childhood experiences during the period when the Khmer Rouge seized control of Cambodia and destroyed the existing social structure, murdering perhaps as many as a couple of million people in the process. Fictionalized, but only thinly. As she says in an interview, "There's not an ordeal she faces that I myself didn't confront...where [we] diverge is in the minor details—the size of our family, the number of towns and villages we were sent to..."What made this work distinctive for me was the voice of Raami, the seven year old narrator. Ratner stayed relatively true (there was just a touch of precociousness) to Raami's perspective and this made the story something altogether different than just a survivor's tale: the events were not politicized; the angers were reactions to immediate events rather than abstractions of injustice; the horrors were not fully comprehended and, so, not fully rendered. Most of all, Ratner/Raami managed to convey a sense of hopefulness and even beauty in places where a more adult voice might, perhaps, have held only despair.It made the book both more palatable and, at the same time, more heartbreakingly awful. The adult reader can see beyond the childlike perspective and realize the truth of what is actually happening.It's a wonderful book, albeit a grim topic, and definitely recommended.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5In honor of International Day of Peace, we’re reviewing In the Shadow of the Banyon by Vaddey Ratner. The atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia were not the first instance of man’s inhumanity to man and, sadly, they haven’t been the last. That’s why this semi-autobiographical novel seems like such an appropriate choice for International Day of Peace. It’s the story of one family as seen through the eyes of a very special child. It’s a story of inhumanity but also the story of human beings’ strength and determination even when faced with the worst adversity imaginable.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book might have been titled "Raami's Story," a novel about a Cambodian girl of royal blood who has a remarkable relationship with her father. Though weakened by polio, she is a strong-willed and free-thinking young girl, fueled by stories her father shares with her. When the Khmer Rouge comes to power, The Organization and its fanatic soldiers seek to return to the country to a purely agrarian society. They do so by moving city dwellers like Raami and her family into the country (and then moving them again and again), by splitting families up, by trying to wipe out freedom of thought, by obliterating personal histories, by starving the people and by brutalizing them. In the Shadow of the Banyan explains the Khmer Rouge era better than any history book because - though very dark at times - there is always an element of hope throughout. The human spirit is capable of existing in the most dire of conditions and of survival.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Ratner tells us in her author's note that "Raami's story is in essence my own." This is a novel about love and survival and the power of stories. Raami is just seven-years-old when the novel begins, when the Khmer Rouge comes to power. The murderous regime over the course of four years was responsible for as many as two million deaths, wiping out about a third of the Cambodian population in their attempts to establish a communist utopia. The story is described in blurbs as "lyrical." I thought at first too lyrical, bordering on purple, as Ratner paints an idyllic life among mangoes and butterflies and jasmine and the banyan tree, poetry and legends. It wasn't long before I was pulled in though; it occurs to me all that lush imagery isn't without its purpose--and not the one I thought at first. It's not so much that the golden world of her childhood is presented as a contrast to the horrors to come, as that it's a vision that sustains Raami through it. Raami's parents are especially strong characters. And the warmth lingers through much of the novel. I couldn't help comparing this in my mind to Wiesel's Night, the memoir of his time in Auschwitz when barely in his teens. That wasn't cloaked as this story is in fiction. But the main difference is that this story somehow escapes its bleakness, despite the at times graphic brutality. Hope and faith even to the end shines through. It's not as powerful as Night, and the voice did strike me as a bit too sophisticated for such a young child, but this is still a moving story and very evocative of time and place with characters to care about.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book is exquisite. It is like reading poetry. I love the imagery and it reminded me to be grateful for my life and for love. I feel like I have been given a gift.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5In the Shadow of the Banyan is a heartbreaking story of a minor royal Cambodian family caught up the disastrous social engineering of the Khmer Rogue in the mid 1970's. Based partially on the experiences of Ratner, herself being only five years old at the time when the Khmer Rogue came to power, this fictionalized account of the aristocracies and utter devastation of the Cambodian people have suffered through is beyond understanding. Ratner has done a wonderful job of breathing life into a period of Cambodia's darkest period. Chronicled from the perspective of a seven year old girl, whose family is violently uprooted from their city home and forced to work in the country as part of the idealized agrarian society the regime believes will return Cambodia back onto the right path, she gives first hand account of the struggle to adapt to ever changing whims of “Organization,” the lose of a beloved father, the separation of families, starvation, forced labor, and what it's like living knowing that one step out of line the Organization's ever changing rules results in torture in death. The tension knowing that at any moment the life you have built and rebuilt could be destroyed because you are today's enemy must have been overwhelming. And for much of the story there isn't a way out for this girl's family dark corrupt reality where death is all around them, but the overwhelming will to survive for her and her mother, if not for themselves than for all that they lost, gives them a chance a to triumph over extreme adversity and make their escape.Ratner uses lines of poetry and flowery prose to create a serene atmosphere that is completely counter to devastation of the events taking place in the story. This gives the story a real sense of Buddhism; a peacefulness that's hard to describe concerting the topic. It can be surreal at times. Another thing I liked is the narrator, a child, is not the typical precocious child wise bound her years, instead her account reads like that of a child forced to grow up by her circumstances. It is a more adult like voice, but I think this only adds to her lose of innocence and her childhood. This is a beautifully written and heartbreaking account of the ugliness we humans can inflict on one another.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5In this book, hope and change is not just an empty campaign promise. Hope and change are the difference between life and death. They keep it from being just another example of maudlin narrative that takes you down to the depths of deep despair, never to recover. Yes, there are heavy doses of hope and change and it is this promise of rebirth that, in the end, provides for one of the most satisfying endings of any book in my recent memory.Raami is seven years old in 1975, living happily with her family in Phnom Penh, when her world comes crashing down around her. Civil war has broken out and with the rise of the Khmer Rouge she begins a four year existence filled with such horror, loss and deprivation that the extent of it would be unbelievable if it weren’t founded in historical fact. During the Khmer Rouge regime upwards of two million people lost their lives between 1975 and 1979. The survivors had endured hellish conditions where they saw their identities stripped away in favor of the “Organization,” as they were forced into unbearable labor.Raami’s father, taken into custody at the beginning of the story as a member of the elite class that the “Organization” was swiftly eliminating, provides the memories that enable her to bear this time in her life. His stories, poetry and legends resonate with her and lift her up. It doesn’t hurt that the author has the capability to string together the most luscious prose imaginable. I could quote reams and reams of her staggeringly beautiful language:”From her corner, Tata watched the whole scene with wide-eyed dismay, as if death, like a stranger uprooted and misplaced, had appeared out of nowhere and taken up residence with us, competing for its shared space in this refuge already haunted by so many ghosts.” (Page 124)Or maybe:”As he neared, I saw that both his ankles were tied with an arm-length rope, which had the effect of making him waddle instead of walk. With his injuries, it seemed, he couldn’t run even if he wanted to. He brushed past our car. The soldiers took turns whacking him with the butts of their guns to hurry him on. He didn’t retaliate or react but plodded on, dragging his despair with him.” (Page 40)Steeped in myth and legend, heartbreakingly sad, yet hopeful, In the Shadow of the Banyan is very highly recommended.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5In the Shadow of the Banyan by Vaddey Ratner is a heartrending story of the adversity faced by one young Cambodian girl during the rule of the Khmer Rouge. The author, having lived through these same extraordinarily brutal times in Phnom Penh, writes in artful prose a novel that transports readers to a time in the life of the young girl, Raami, who endures more brutality, violence, persecution and despair in 4 years than most people could imagine over a lifetime. While these horrific life experiences are masterfully illustrated by Ratner, the novel pulls from such terrifying realities something that overcomes the evils committed by the Khmer Rouge – the inspiration Raami draws from those who have left indelible, positive prints on her memories. Most importantly, Raami finds perseverance by her recollections of her father’s poetry, a mechanism by which she is able to cope with the atrocities she has witnessed and lived through. Brilliantly crafted, In the Shadow of the Banyan is a must read for those readers interested in learning of the extremely violent times in Cambodia in the 1970s, but with that knowledge and understanding, readers should be forewarned that humanity can be, and was in these times, graphically brutal, making some passages very difficult to read. While In the Shadow of the Banyan was difficult at times, I am deeply grateful for being given the opportunity to read Ratner’s book and believe In the Shadow of the Banyan would make for an excellent, albeit difficult, discussion group pick.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Good Stuff Heartbreaking - this story will haunt you long after you have read it The prose is so exquisite and beautifully written, such talent for first time author It is hard for me to express how spectacular this book is, everything I want to say sounds trite when compared to the beauty of the authors words and the horror she lived through Raami is such a strong girl, one to be admired for her strength of character and her ability to transcend the horrific tragedy she lived through and to still find beauty in her world. As the author says in her own words she wants the world to see how beautiful Cambodia was before the genocide & which while reading you come to understand what was lost during the "killing fields" Shows the will that we have to live no matter the circumstance The writing really comes across of that of a young girl, so authentic and haunting Such joy love and hope in such a tragic situation gives a balance to the acts of brutal violence by the Khymer Rouge - shows that the world is full of both good and evil Author mentions on quite a few occasions the power of stories to escape and to give hope (Wonderfully explained on Pg 134 of the ARC)The Not So Good Stuff It is a tough read for someone as sensitive as myself. Reading of the brutality and inhumanity of man sickens me and I cannot even comprehend how or why someone could commit such horrific crimes against their fellow man, especially to innocent children Pages 125 - 127 (ARC) were brutal for me to read, being a motherFavorite Quotes/Passages"But, looking at the murals, I had the feeling the tales had followed us here, moving along with us on our journey, manifesting themselves in all sorts of ways.Knowing comes from learning, finding from seeking.It was clear what the message meant. If I looked hard enough, if I sought, I would find what I was looking for.""I'm certain, though, he remained resolute in his belief that even without him you would live through this nightmare, that life, with all its cruelty and horror, was still worth living. A gift he would've wanted his daughter to embrace.""Bury me and I'll thrive as countless insectsI bend neither to your weapon nor willEven as you trample upon my bonesI cower not under your soulless treadOr fear your shadow casting upon my grave.""I told you stories to give you wings, Raami, so that you would never be trapped by anything - your name, your title, the limits of your body, this world's suffering."Who Should/Shouldn't Read This is one I would suggest for everyone to read with a warning for those who are sensitve This will be an award winner, so get it now people4.75 Dewey'sI received this from Simon and Schuster in exchange for an honest review - thanks for once again forcing me out of my comfortable reading zone
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The killing fields of Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge in power from 1975-1979 before the Vietnamese drove them out, by this time one to two million Cambodians were either killed, starved to death or committed suicide. Raami is seven, her father a prince and a poet who has instilled in her a love for stories and words, which he told her would give her wings and allow her to see the beauty in even the ugliest things.a the start of this, when they are herded into the streets and taken from camp to camp, they are a family of nine, by the end only 2 will survive. Told entirely from the viewpoint of Raami, this book and the way it is told has a poignancy and yet a strange beauty too as it is not only about a horrible revolution but about the strong bond and love between a father and daughter. This is in fact the authors own story, though she was only 5 when the actual revolution happened, and as she explains in the afterward she writes this book to honor her father and those who never made it through this horrific time. This book is beautiful;y written, my only question is would a seven and eight yr. old have the capacity to relate all these things she had seen? I decided that what she did';t understand at the beginning, after everything she sees and experiences, she would have grown up relatively quickly so I think that this is entirely plausible. Great book and one I would definitely recommend.ARC from NetGalley.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5In the Shadow of the Banyan is a fictionalized work that parallels author Vaddey Ratner's personal history: a (minor) royal family of privilege and education is driven from Phnom Penh during the Khmer Rouge revolution. Told from the perspective of seven-year-old Raami, the novel follows her family through years of toil and labor in the countryside of Cambodia, through monsoons, sickness, and famine. Banyan is suffused with myth and poetry, both of which play a large role in Raami's family. The storytelling is lyrical and rich and it transports the reader to the jungles, riverbanks and rice paddies of Cambodia. Ratner does an amazing job of illustrating both the horror of the genocide and the power of hope. As beautifully written as the book is, I didn't love it. My personal preference is for stories that are driven by plot or dialog. This book is much more introspective and descriptive. I found myself skipping paragraphs, too anxious to find out what would happen next. (For comparative purposes: I had the same problem with Snow Falling on Cedars.) Final verdict: Beautiful, but not the right book for me. I don't have the right reading temperament for Ratner's slow and deliberate style.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This coming-of-age novel about a horrific period of history, the Cambodian genocide under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s, was excellent and beautifully written.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I've given it 3 stars but that's pretty generous. The zombies are cool, and the plot could have been tight but there was too much... errr... stupidity."They" (who are they? author never tells us) collect a news-broadcaster, lock her up in a damp cell and torture her like she's Osama himself. Since there was nothing in the story that indicates this character knew ANYTHING about ANYTHING, this torture is stupid, but even worse is that she "held out" against it. If you know nothing about something, why hold out? And if you're not a professional terrorist, how could you hold out?It's frustrating when authors write stereotype behaviors that create some action, but have no realistic component. For a specific example: a building is being overrun by zombies, and the city is about to fall to zombies and yet a guy in some black-ops organization spends man-power and time to hunt down some other guy who helped the previously mentioned tortured-for-no-reason victim escape. Anyone not brain-damaged would a) escape or b) help in the defense of his nation/family/city/etc. Nobody is going to go hunt down one guy to "teach him a lesson", at least not if you have to wade through thousands of zombies first.Oh, and there's also the military guy who has qualms about killing someone who is about to turn into a zombie: 'I can't kill him, he's still human' when in about 30 seconds he's going to try to start munching on you.Hey, did that zombie LOOK at me? Pass me the gun.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5
Six out of ten.
A viral outbreak with a 100% mortality rate and the ability to raise the dead and return them to walk the earth. A massive secret military operation fails to save the world and as the pandemic escalates we see the beginnings of a global catastrophe.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Kearsten says: **Glendale Library doesn't own this one, but if you're interested, you can order it through Interlibrary Loan like I did (just ask a librarian to help ya!)**I've been making my way through quite a few zombies novels, and thankfully, this one doesn't (at least not yet) delve into the mystical realm. The zombies here are victims of a nasty virus that incapacitates its victims to the point where they are driven, very aggressively, to spread the virus. As the virus, dubbed the Morningstar Virus, is spread through direct contact via bodily fluids, the virus victims are driven to attack and bite anyone uninfected.More frightening, the virus is capable of reanimating the bodies after human death - thus survivors have to fight off "sprinters" - the still living carriers - and "shamblers" - the reanimated corpses of carriers.The narrative follows two groups of survivors: a military scientist who is the leading expert on Morningstar and the journalist to whom she "leaks" top secret information about the crisis; and a military group, lead by a general who must get his men and a crowd of refugees away from Africa, where the virus first breaks out.This was fast-paced and exciting, full of intriguing characters and lots of bloody deaths - yahoo for zombies!
Book preview
Plague of the Dead - Z.A. Recht
INTRODUCTION
WHAT IS IT about being eaten alive that bugs everyone?
Wait. Scratch that. Never mind. I know the answer.
Flesh being torn away from bone. Appendages being removed with no anesthetic. Perhaps spending the last moments of your existence watching your entrails being removed and devoured by total strangers. It’s probably kind of stinky, too.
Yeah, I guess that’s why being eaten alive can be a real bummer.
So what is the appeal and importance of the zombie genre in the new millennium? Perhaps its importance is in two key concepts.
Let’s start with our fellow citizens both in the U.S. and in the world. It could be argued that an artificial disconnect has been implemented by the overly commercialized U.S. through electronic media like Internet, wi-fi, and video games. These forms of entertainment (distraction?) put us in our own virtual world for hours at a time. The price, though, is that it separates us from our families, friends, and potential new amigos. More in a moment.
The second is the cynical perception of the role of the U.S. military in responding to (creating?) the zombie apocalypse. In this new millennium, a second renaissance, so to speak, is occurring. Those same people spending time away from their families and friends are sharing reliable information about global happenings. It has been dubbed an ‘information war’, a struggle between forces who are trying to enlighten and those trying to enslave. Though many might deny it, there is credible information in regards to U.S. government involvement, planning, and execution of national emergencies in an effort to command and control the populace. Whether it’s ‘bird flu’, ‘anthrax’, ‘terrorists’, or ‘smallpox’, the government has already put in our heads that a ‘biological attack’ was inevitable, and we should all be afraid. Smallpox is all but eradicated, with the exception of several vials at Fort Dietrich. For those Internet junkies out there, simply doing a Google search of ‘Fort Dietrich’ brings up some interesting hits on the aerosol dispersal of pathogens.
So why are these two concepts important and a key to the reemergence of zombie popularity? A zombie apocalypse would do something that some might claim we have forgotten how to do: interact and work together with other people. Suddenly, the stranger across the street becomes your best friend. The ‘crazy’ man who everyone thought was a terrorist because he had a gun collection becomes an asset. And now you have to work with your rival to fight a common enemy. The zombie apocalypse, as terrible as it seems, actually brings people together.
Since September 2001, not only the United States, but the world, has not been the same. And though the five-year mark has passed since that despicable day, the perception of the events of that day have changed drastically. People are becoming more and more skeptical by the day about the government version of the events. And with the reputation of Fort Dietrich, a zombie apocalypse by an artificially manufactured virus is something that is within the realm of possibility.
Z.A. Recht’s Plague of the Dead brings these two themes together with fantastic precision and magnificent eloquence. I have to say I’m really rather envious of the attention to detail and his patience in telling his story. Z.A. Recht has a clear vision of the zombie apocalypse and communicates it with all the details, gore, and struggle for survival that every zombie fan wants and needs. It is an awesome addition to the ever-growing zombie universe.
My fellow zombie fan, you have done yourself a great favor in purchasing this book. It is now time to gird up your loins for one of the best zombie adventures out today. Rest assured the eating, disemboweling, and dismembering are only a product of your imagination.
Let’s just hope the boys and girls at Fort Dietrich don’t get any funny ideas.
Sincerely,
Bowie V. Ibarra
START INTERCEPT_
CONTINUE INTERCEPT . . .
ADDITIONAL DATA INCOMING_
INTERCEPT COMPLETE_
Mombasa Airstrip
December 09, 2006
1032 hrs_
A LONE FIGURE was running towards the control tower, waving his arms. In the tower, a tall man held a pair of binoculars to his face, focusing on the man. He frowned.
What the hell is that guy doing?
said Mbutu Ngasy to one of his co-workers. Call security. Get him off the runway.
As the shift director of air traffic control, Mbutu was responsible for the smooth takeoffs and landings at the Mombasa regional airport. The rogue figure was dead-center on the main runway, blocking traffic.
Mbutu flicked on his radio and said, Flight 931, hold position. We’ve got a trespasser on the ground, over.
Roger, control. Holding pattern, over,
came the static-laced reply.
Below the tower, Mbutu could see two security vehicles powering through the dirt alongside the runway, blue lights flashing. They slowed as they got near the man and the man then stopped in front of them, gesturing wildly at the tree line where he had originally emerged. Mbutu raised the binoculars again and focused them beyond the security detail and trespasser, towards the tree line, curious as to what the man was so excited about.
Fifty yards further, four more people had appeared and were walking steadily towards the group on the runway. Mbutu grimaced, holding the radio microphone to his lips.
Got four more coming your way out of the trees, security. What is this, a party? Over.
We see ’em.
One of the security vehicles peeled off from the other, heading towards the four new figures. Behind it, the lone trespasser was being placed in handcuffs. He wasn’t resisting.
Mbutu watched the other vehicle as it pulled to a stop in front of the four figures. He saw the two guards climb out of the truck. They held up their hands, pointing at the woods, ordering the trespassers to go back the way they came. However, the trespassers continued to advance.
Mbutu saw one of the guards take a step back, shaking his head in disbelief as he drew his pistol. The other guard soon did the same. Though Mbutu couldn’t hear the words being spoken, he imagined one of the four trespassers had made a threat or two.
The gunshots—unlike mere spoken words—were easily audible, echoing across the runway. Mbutu saw the flashes of fire as the guards fired their pistols, then saw the sprays of blood popping from the backs of the victims.
Then his jaw dropped open in awe.
The four trespassers kept coming.
The guards were firing quickly now. Mbutu saw one of them drop an empty magazine to make room for a fresh one. One of the trespassers took a round to the forehead and dropped to the ground, twitching. The other three were almost on top of the guards, who had backed up against their own truck, cut off from escape.
Mbutu saw the trespassers encircle the guards, and then lost sight of the action, blocked from view by the security vehicle. He cursed and tossed away the binoculars.
Call the police!
he shouted to his co-workers.
One of them had already picked up the telephone. This is Mombasa Air Traffic Control, reporting shots fired on the runway. We’ve got trespassers—definitely dangerous, probably armed!
The other security vehicle had motored over to the group of trespassers, the original lone man still handcuffed in the back seat. The guards climbed out, weapons already drawn and primed. Mbutu watched carefully. The guards down there had a much better view than he did, and they obviously didn’t like what they saw behind the captured truck. They opened fire.
In the distance, Mbutu heard the sirens of the approaching police. There was always a detachment on hand somewhere at the airport and their quick response was welcome in situations like this one.
By the time the police cruiser had arrived at the scene, the security guards had put down the trespassers. The police looked over the bodies, took photographs, and were in the process of booking the handcuffed man when Mbutu made it to the scene on foot.
What happened?
he asked, slightly out of breath from the run.
One of the cops answered him. Don’t know for sure, yet,
he said. From their clothes they look like rebels, but it’s way out of character for them to come into a town like this. Quite a distance to travel, too. No weapons either. Probably some cannibals, the sick bastards. Wish they would stay out in the wild.
He pointed at the bodies of the two security guards.
Mbutu looked, then wished he hadn’t. Chunks had been torn from the flesh of the guards. Raking wounds from teeth and fingernails scarred the corpses and both lay in pools of blood.
"Dear God, he uttered.
What brought them to this?"
Hungry maybe,
one of the cops replied. With the ban on cannibalism and the population situation in the jungle, it’s no wonder they tried to get a meal in town.
Mbutu looked sick. How can you joke about it?
Who’s joking?
said the officer. "We’ve been seeing those tribes in town more and more often lately. They’re protesting the prohibition, chanting about how they need to eat too."
Here comes the coroner,
said the officer’s partner, gesturing into the distance. An ambulance was trundling down the runway, lights and siren off. After all, there was no real rush when all the patients were already dead.
Here! Back her up here!
directed the officer, waving the ambulance into position. The back doors swung open as it came to a stop, and white-coated medics climbed out, dragging stretchers behind them.
How many?
they asked.
Six,
said the officer.
Holy shit,
one of the medics breathed, spotting the bodies. What happened?
Don’t worry about it,
the officer told him. Just get ’em out of here. There’s a flight waiting to land.
Mbutu felt his lip curl at the officer’s apparent disregard for the lives that had been ended, but said nothing. Here, as in many places on Earth, life was cheap.
The medics loaded the corpses onto the stretchers, zipping them into dark plastic body bags and stacking them like so much cordwood in the back of the ambulance.
We’ll be sure to let you know what we figure out,
the officer told Mbutu before climbing into his squad car to follow the ambulance.
Right,
Mbutu said under his breath as the cars receded into the distance. He was left standing alone in the hot sun on the runway, the only evidence of the recent violence a few smears of blood on the edge of the pavement. You do that, officer. You do that.
Mombasa Hospital
December 09, 2006
2013 hrs_
Dr. Klaus Mayer was a general surgeon on staff at Mombasa Hospital. He was in his mid-thirties and had traveled to Africa from his home in Austria to do a year of pro-bono work. He felt he was able to make a real impact here. He saw evidence of this every day when patients thanked him or when he would see a nurse using one of the techniques he’d been teaching.
Tonight he was pulling morgue duty. The hospital was severely understaffed and all the doctors took turns filling in the vacant positions. Dr. Mayer was sitting at the check-in desk in front of the morgue’s double swinging doors, scratching notes into a patient’s file. He was expecting a visit in a few minutes from the police. They were bringing him six bodies. Apparently there had been an incident at the airport. The police had refused to give him any details.
Like that’s going to matter, he mused. I’ll find out when I do the autopsies.
He sighed, tapping the pen against the file. This was one of his tougher cases. An older woman had come down with a case of malaria, and her immune system was having a tough time fighting back the disease. She had nearly recovered twice now, but relapsed both times. She had two daughters, each with their own families, and they were destitute. The extended family relied on the income she made as a seamstress. Even with all the adults and some of the children working full-time at whatever odd jobs they could find, they barely made ends meet. They simply couldn’t afford to lose their mother, as cold as that sounded.
But I’ve become used to these kinds of things, Dr. Mayer thought. I don’t know if that’s comforting or frightening.
He heard the chime of the elevator bell down the hall, then heard the doors slide open. He lifted his eyes and saw uniformed officers exiting, accompanied by paramedics. They pulled gurneys between them.
"Ah, sehr gut, Dr. Mayer said, standing and switching to the local dialect as the officers approached.
Bring them right inside, please. Do you have any specific time you would like the autopsies finished?"
As soon as possible,
said one of the officers, (the same that had talked with Mbutu on the landing field.) He didn’t elaborate, and Dr. Mayer didn’t ask him to. Here, it was best to let the officials go about their business, and mind your own.
Please leave them here,
Dr. Mayer instructed, leading the police and medics into the morgue. The room was cool and sterile and smelled of antiseptic. There were two stainless steel autopsy tables in the center of the room, with light fixtures perched overhead. As they entered, Dr. Mayer flicked a switch on the wall and the lights hummed to life. One of the bulbs flickered on and off, buzzing quietly.
The medics wheeled the gurneys against the far wall and handed Dr. Mayer a clipboard. He let his eyes scan over it, then pulled his ballpoint from his chest pocket and swiftly gave his signature, adding a flourish under the Y in his last name. The police didn’t bother to tell him anything else, but he overheard them talking about taking a prisoner up a few levels to be treated for wounds.
Dr. Mayer knew what was expected of him and didn’t press the issue.
You might get a bit of a shock when you open ‘em up,
one of the medics said as the police were leaving. He spoke conspiratorially, glancing over his shoulder at the officers to make sure they weren’t watching. Cops think its cannibals or rebels. Heard ‘em talking.
Thanks,
Dr. Mayer said, eyeing the medic. For a man who had seen all manner of injuries on the streets of Mombasa, he seemed unusually shaken. Dr. Mayer was now hopelessly curious as to what he was going to find.
Once his company had departed, Dr. Mayer got down to business. He snapped a pair of latex gloves over his hands and pulled a surgical mask over his face, adjusting his glasses around the rubber straps. He rolled a cart of instruments up to one of the shining tables and retrieved a blank file and pocket tape recorder from his desk. Finally he pulled the first gurney alongside. Ideally one other person would have helped him lift the body from the gurney to the autopsy slab, but he made do by shifting the head and shoulders over, then moving to the other end of the corpse and pulling the legs onto the table as well.
Dr. Mayer clicked the tape recorder on as he stood over the dark body bag. The writing on the black plastic bag said that this was one of the perpetrators of whatever crime had occurred at the airfield.
First subject, received December the ninth at eight-twenty p.m.,
he narrated, pulling back the zipper on the bag. He flipped the plastic back and raised his eyebrows. Subject is an adult male, estimate between twenty-five and thirty years of age. Appears to have been in moderately healthy shape. Some signs of malnutrition are apparent. Two lateral scars on the upper left thigh. Wounds appear to be old.
Dr. Mayer lifted the body’s head in his gloved hands, turning it gently under the bright white light of the fluorescents. The bulb that was shorting out continued to buzz and crackle as it flickered.
Cause of death appears to be from trauma to the skull. One, maybe two gunshot wounds, entering through the frontal lobe and exiting through the rear. Skull appears to have shattered, most likely due to calcium deficiency.
Dr. Mayer halted here, frowning beneath his mask.
Interesting.
He pulled a long-necked cotton swab from a jar on the instrument tray and dabbed it at a wide slash on the body’s shoulder. It came away covered in black, syrupy blood that had congealed on the skin around the wound.
Subject appears to have suffered wounds from an animal. Pattern suggests biting, perhaps a monkey. The blood surrounding the wound implies it was pre-mortem. It doesn’t appear to be either life-threatening or infected.
Dr. Mayer let his eyes roam to the corpse’s chest. Here he found his most confusing item yet.
Three gunshot wounds to the chest,
he said for the benefit of the tape recorder, but then his voice trailed off. He stared at the wounds for a moment, then grabbed the corpse firmly by the shoulder and lifted it up on its side. He inspected its back and found two exit wounds. One of the bullets had lodged inside the man somewhere. But the wounds themselves were not what interested him—it was the lack of blood surrounding them.
He coughed, clearing his throat.
Gunshot wounds to the chest appear to be post-mortem,
he said, again letting his voice trail off. After a moment he reached over and switched off the tape recorder.
This is strange,
he said to himself, eyes on the corpse. Why shoot a man in the chest when you’ve already killed him with a shot to the head?
Dr. Mayer seemed to ponder this for a minute, and then seemed to throw the thought away. He clicked the tape recorder back on.
Moving forward, I’m going to open the first subject for confirmation on cause of death,
he said, pulling a scalpel from the instrument tray. He lowered the blade over the corpse’s chest, and then stopped just inches from the flesh. Along with the bullet wounds, there were other puncture marks on the man’s chest. These were smaller, neater, and also bloodless.
Dr. Mayer had seen these types of wounds before. In Europe, they might be associated with a stabbing wound from a stiletto or other thin, cylindrical blade. Here in Africa, there were certain rural tribes which used a lightweight hunting spear. He didn’t know what they were called or how they were made, only that they were of a thin, flexible wood that reminded him of the branches of weeping willows. Occasionally he would get a case where a tribesman had been speared on accident while hunting—or intentionally by a rival tribe. The wounds he saw on his current subject were identical.
This presented Dr. Mayer with a riddle within a riddle. This man had been stabbed and shot after he was killed—but Klaus Mayer knew for a fact that the police here in Mombasa went better armed than their rural counterparts. They had no such spears to stab this man with. And why would they even want to after they had already killed him?
The answer was simple enough, though it still made little sense: this man had been attacked by tribesmen after he was dead, and then had somehow found his way to the airfield, caused trouble and had been gunned down—all while already being dead.
There must be some rational explanation,
Dr. Mayer said. He looked over at the tape recorder and realized he had broken his continuity. Located small puncture wounds in the chest of the first subject that appear to have been caused by a stabbing weapon, not a firearm. These wounds are also post-mortem. I cannot explain how these wounds occurred.
Dr. Mayer was already thoroughly frustrated and he hadn’t even begun the meat of the autopsy procedure.
Hopefully some of the other bodies would shed some light on the matter.
2234 hrs_
Dr. Mayer had completed three of his six autopsies. He still felt discouraged. He had found similar post-mortem wounds on two more of the attackers. Some were gunshot wounds, others inflicted by spear. He’d moved on to one of the dead security guards, hoping that maybe one of the victims of the attack would have some new evidence for him.
Fourth subject is male, early to mid-thirties, in good condition. No noticeable identifying marks.
Dr. Mayer examined the guard’s wounds. As he did, his eyes grew wide. These guards were wearing the uniforms of the airfield security details. Obviously the crime in question was the murder of these two men by the other four that had been brought in with them. The method of the murder, however, was grisly