The Zombie Seven
There are many characters and many stories in the Chaos Rift Universe. Among the characters are heroes who strive to become great champions, reluctant sorts who are sucked into turmoil and must brave through great challenges, and anti-heroes that wreak as much havoc in their furies as the villains can. Each of these heroes and anti-heroes has a story to tell. These stories will be found in the Before The Seven books. When the many characters come together as a united force, sometimes cohesive, sometimes not so much, their adventures take place in The Zombie Seven. Explore their back stories, to see how these characters first came about, and then see how they will interact when thrown together into places that are beyond Time, beyond Space, and in some instances, even beyond Reason.
Series page on Smashwords.
Series page on Smashwords.
Before The Seven 1 - Don Diego Meets Lucky Luis
About this title: Once upon a time, there was a miserly old man, and then a demon came along and killed him. That was just the beginning. This novel reflects a grimmer face of society than most people care to accept, where there are no clear-cut saints or sinners, only our own humanity. It is a macabre, twisted and bloody thing that has escaped from my mind. You have been warned. Rating: EXTREME controversy.
Click to visit this title's page on Smashwords.
Click to visit this title's page on Smashwords.
Before The Seven 2 - Scary Peter
Some people don’t ask to become heroes. All they want is to live a nice peaceful life, and to get laid every once in a while. Destiny, however, might have other plans for a few of us, evil plans including witches, Satanists, demons, zombies and even possessed babies. One man, Scary Peter, can’t hide from his destiny anymore. Destiny is coming, and it wants to kill him. Rating: HIGH controversy.
Click to visit this title's page on Smashwords.
Click to visit this title's page on Smashwords.
Cover blurb for Before The Seven 1:
Two Very Different Men And One Demon
In the small and quiet village of Santa Ysabel, in Baja California, Mexico, lives a pleasant and mild mannered man named Don Diego. Although this man is now in his sixties, his mind and intellect are still quite sharp. After having a few conversations with Don Diego, a newcomer to this village would have no doubt as to how the old man had earned his healthy fortune. Also beyond a doubt would be Don Diego’s love for the small community he lived in, and for its residents, whom he continually tries to counsel and assist like a mother hen taking her chicks under her wing.
All is not clear skies and warm breezes, however. There is a second man, Luis Sanchez, who is at this very moment driving down the crowded San Diego freeway with the destination of Santa Ysabel clearly focused in his mind. Luis Sanchez might be considered the nuclear opposite of Don Diego. He is a reckless and violent brute, ready to administer a vicious beating to anyone who might deliberately and sometimes even accidentally stand in his way. Adding to this, Luis Sanchez is flat broke. He is willing to do anything to improve his dire financial situation, even if it means murdering an old man to get at his fortune.
Watching over this developing crisis is none other than the demon Barbas. This demon has been intrigued by the vast differences between the two men, and has even gone out of its way to bring the two together. In its mischievousness and wonder, Barbas has even thought of a few ways to weave the destinies of these two very different men into a single, turbulent path. With growing anticipation, the demon awaits their coming together, for while their inevitable collision might prove to be absorbing and fascinating, the demon also seeks to reach out and destroy them both...
Lying on the bed in the darkest hours of the night, the strong body tossed and turned restlessly. Sweat cried out from the body’s pores, strangled out by the recurring nightmare. In the blackest recesses of the mind, the nightmare reigned as a god.
Images blasted through the sleeping man’s mind, of gunshots and blood, violence and death, and repeatedly, of a cadaver that held two very different masks up over its gruesome face. Over its eternally grinning countenance, the cadaver first tried one disguise, then the second, as if it couldn’t decide which to wear, until it finally laughed with the voice of a demon and mashed the two masks together.
Two Very Different Men And One Demon
In the small and quiet village of Santa Ysabel, in Baja California, Mexico, lives a pleasant and mild mannered man named Don Diego. Although this man is now in his sixties, his mind and intellect are still quite sharp. After having a few conversations with Don Diego, a newcomer to this village would have no doubt as to how the old man had earned his healthy fortune. Also beyond a doubt would be Don Diego’s love for the small community he lived in, and for its residents, whom he continually tries to counsel and assist like a mother hen taking her chicks under her wing.
All is not clear skies and warm breezes, however. There is a second man, Luis Sanchez, who is at this very moment driving down the crowded San Diego freeway with the destination of Santa Ysabel clearly focused in his mind. Luis Sanchez might be considered the nuclear opposite of Don Diego. He is a reckless and violent brute, ready to administer a vicious beating to anyone who might deliberately and sometimes even accidentally stand in his way. Adding to this, Luis Sanchez is flat broke. He is willing to do anything to improve his dire financial situation, even if it means murdering an old man to get at his fortune.
Watching over this developing crisis is none other than the demon Barbas. This demon has been intrigued by the vast differences between the two men, and has even gone out of its way to bring the two together. In its mischievousness and wonder, Barbas has even thought of a few ways to weave the destinies of these two very different men into a single, turbulent path. With growing anticipation, the demon awaits their coming together, for while their inevitable collision might prove to be absorbing and fascinating, the demon also seeks to reach out and destroy them both...
Lying on the bed in the darkest hours of the night, the strong body tossed and turned restlessly. Sweat cried out from the body’s pores, strangled out by the recurring nightmare. In the blackest recesses of the mind, the nightmare reigned as a god.
Images blasted through the sleeping man’s mind, of gunshots and blood, violence and death, and repeatedly, of a cadaver that held two very different masks up over its gruesome face. Over its eternally grinning countenance, the cadaver first tried one disguise, then the second, as if it couldn’t decide which to wear, until it finally laughed with the voice of a demon and mashed the two masks together.
Cover blurb for Before The Seven 2:
Scary Peter’s Introduction
(Sighs heavily.)
Where do I begin?
I mean, so much heavy shit has gone down, I don’t even know where to start. You probably won’t even believe most of it. I know I wouldn’t, if I hadn’t gone through it myself. Heck, I’d be standing right there next to you calling ‘bullshit’ on the whole thing. But it really happened, man. It happened to me.
To hell and back, that’s where I’ve gone, and probably where I’m headed to as well. It’s like something bad got a hold of me, and it’s dragging me all over the place like I’m a chunk of meat stuck in the teeth of some big-ass dinosaur. And it’s not just a bad thing that has me clamped in its jaws, either, but the most evil and corrupt thing in the universe. I’m watching this thing trampling down on innocents and chomping them up like so many dried twigs. It’s like a roller coaster ride that I can’t get off of. And I’m on this ride all the time, man, even right now that I’m sitting here talking to you.
I know what you’re thinking; that I’m some big and stupid biker that fried up one too many brain cells using speed. I’ve got to tell you, I ain’t never used hard drugs in my life. And as for the jeans and jacket, well, what can I say? The chicks dig it. I’m not talking about the ugly ones with all the scars and the tats, but about the pretty office girls at work. You could say that I’m playing the part of a hardcore biker, but let’s get one thing straight. I ain’t no pussy and I ain’t no bitch. I’m not really a troublemaker either. But if push comes to shove, I’m not the type to run away with my tail between my legs, like some others guys I’ve known.
Except when it comes to the supernatural. Call me a chicken-shit if you want. Let’s see how you react when you have some horned demon gnashing its fangs and dripping saliva right in front of your face, and you’re using all of your strength to keep yourself from becoming its lunch.
That’s part of how I got nicknamed Scary Peter. I run into some scary shit, and when I tell other people about it, they think it is scary, too. People who don’t know my past assume I’m called Scary Peter because I can look intimidating when I’m not even trying, but I don’t know, that’s just my ‘look.’ I’ve heard that a couple of guys call me ‘Scary Peter’ because they claim I get so scared I wet my pants sometimes, although none of these clowns has the balls to say that to my face.
I’ll tell you my stories, but I’m not going all the way back to my early childhood or anything, because there isn’t much to tell from back then. Besides, it’s none of your business. Matter of fact, let me start over a bit, but this time I’ll use what I like to call my ‘friendly approach,’ like when I’m training a new employee or giving a revenue rundown to one of my bosses. You just have to pretend that I’m wearing a long sleeve button shirt and a semi-psychedelic tie, instead of the leather jacket and jeans you see me in now.
(Pauses to snort, and hawks a loogie into a nearby planter.)
Scary Peter’s Introduction
(Sighs heavily.)
Where do I begin?
I mean, so much heavy shit has gone down, I don’t even know where to start. You probably won’t even believe most of it. I know I wouldn’t, if I hadn’t gone through it myself. Heck, I’d be standing right there next to you calling ‘bullshit’ on the whole thing. But it really happened, man. It happened to me.
To hell and back, that’s where I’ve gone, and probably where I’m headed to as well. It’s like something bad got a hold of me, and it’s dragging me all over the place like I’m a chunk of meat stuck in the teeth of some big-ass dinosaur. And it’s not just a bad thing that has me clamped in its jaws, either, but the most evil and corrupt thing in the universe. I’m watching this thing trampling down on innocents and chomping them up like so many dried twigs. It’s like a roller coaster ride that I can’t get off of. And I’m on this ride all the time, man, even right now that I’m sitting here talking to you.
I know what you’re thinking; that I’m some big and stupid biker that fried up one too many brain cells using speed. I’ve got to tell you, I ain’t never used hard drugs in my life. And as for the jeans and jacket, well, what can I say? The chicks dig it. I’m not talking about the ugly ones with all the scars and the tats, but about the pretty office girls at work. You could say that I’m playing the part of a hardcore biker, but let’s get one thing straight. I ain’t no pussy and I ain’t no bitch. I’m not really a troublemaker either. But if push comes to shove, I’m not the type to run away with my tail between my legs, like some others guys I’ve known.
Except when it comes to the supernatural. Call me a chicken-shit if you want. Let’s see how you react when you have some horned demon gnashing its fangs and dripping saliva right in front of your face, and you’re using all of your strength to keep yourself from becoming its lunch.
That’s part of how I got nicknamed Scary Peter. I run into some scary shit, and when I tell other people about it, they think it is scary, too. People who don’t know my past assume I’m called Scary Peter because I can look intimidating when I’m not even trying, but I don’t know, that’s just my ‘look.’ I’ve heard that a couple of guys call me ‘Scary Peter’ because they claim I get so scared I wet my pants sometimes, although none of these clowns has the balls to say that to my face.
I’ll tell you my stories, but I’m not going all the way back to my early childhood or anything, because there isn’t much to tell from back then. Besides, it’s none of your business. Matter of fact, let me start over a bit, but this time I’ll use what I like to call my ‘friendly approach,’ like when I’m training a new employee or giving a revenue rundown to one of my bosses. You just have to pretend that I’m wearing a long sleeve button shirt and a semi-psychedelic tie, instead of the leather jacket and jeans you see me in now.
(Pauses to snort, and hawks a loogie into a nearby planter.)
