About the book:

The post-apocalyptic world isn’t that bad. Sure, there are mutants. But, for the people of New Hope, daily life isn’t so much a struggle of finding food or medicine as it is trying to find a new shortstop for their kickball team. This makes it difficult for a post-apocalyptic warrior to find work.

Thankfully, an army full of killers is making its way to the peaceful town and plans to raze it to the ground. Only a fully trained post-apocalyptic-nomadic warrior can stop them. Two have offered their services. One is invited to help. The other is sent to roam the wasteland. Did the townspeople make the right decision? Will they be saved? Did they find a shortstop? What’s with all the bears?

Find out in the best-selling Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors, a fast-paced action and adventure novel set in a horrific future that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

In this scene:

Jerry and his passengers must travel through the remains of Dallas.


A belief in the power of concrete and modernization had caused the Downtown district of Dallas to pave over most things green or old. It wasn’t until the renaissance trends of the late 2000s that the planners decided to develop green spaces within the city. This exceptional lack of plant life worked in the post-apocalyptic travelers’ favor.

The growth accelerant had few large trees or park space to affect. This left only office plants and landscape shrubbery to absorb the agent. Had more green space been available, the growth would have made Dallas streets impassable. Instead, lucky bamboo, bonsai trees, and ivy vines that had been abandoned on desktops and windowsills absorbed the chemical. These office plants erupted from their planters and burst through skyscraper windows to drape a canopy of green over the former business district.

It was also unfortunate that the apocalypse occurred on Valentine’s Day. Massive rose bushes had shattered ornate vases, plummeted from office buildings, and taken root in the city’s storm drains. Stems as thick as trees rose from crumbled sidewalks and bloomed with massive roses that tinted the sunlight hues of red and yellow.

The Silver Lining crashed through the creeping vines. Snapping like gunfire, the vines left sap and pulp across the body of the motor coach. Leaves and spores poured through the open windshield covering the dash.

Alex flinched as branches and vines jutted in and out of the shattered windshield. He brushed the seedlings from his eyes quickly, struggling to keep both hands on the shotgun.

Small vines snapped away at the mass of the coach, while the thicker ones caused the vehicle to lurch and bounce as it made its way down the street.

Jerry fought the wheel, wrestling the coach from their grasp. He marveled at the growth. It was much thicker than he had last seen it. The canopy had lowered and threatened to touch the ground in several places.

Inside the coach, the passengers were thrown from their seats during a hard left. Jerry demanded everything from the engine as he maneuvered deftly through the streets. Though it seemed random to his passengers, the route he took through the city kept the vehicle clear of the few parks and patches of grass in the area.

He hadn’t forgotten the streets. Despite the frantic steering, he kept his bearings, always moving south and east to reach a ramp up on the elevated safety of highway 45.

“What was that?” Alex sat up, his grip on the shotgun tightened.

Jerry followed the barrel and looked into the street.


Alex peered into the dense growth coming from the lobby of one of Dallas’s many nondescript office buildings. “I guess it was nothing.”

“Keep watching.” Jerry sped up.

A chorus of faint, high-pitched whines penetrated the truck as countless vines scratched against its skin. Those heavier with water slapped against the truck, splattering the moisture across the body and in through the bullet holes.

“There!” Alex pointed with the shotgun.

Jerry saw the movement. It moved quickly, blending into the shadows of the jungle. He didn’t see it clearly, but its shape was human.


The figure had disappeared to the left. He turned right on Harwood Street and out from under the skyscrapers. The properties along this road had been concrete lots and low-rise buildings. Few plants took root in the deserted parking lots. Soon, the only vegetation in sight was the grass growing between the seams of the pavement.

The rush of the tires on the road hushed as he sped down the grass-covered street. The steering wheel felt loose and the tires plowed down the long blades, but the ride inside the coach had improved. The highway was just ahead and he allowed himself a thought of relief.

The shadowy figure had not been alone. There was a flurry of motion on the street. Vague forms dashed about the field beside the coach. Soon, the dashing stopped and the creatures began to stand up.

They were everywhere.

As tall as a man, hundreds of them began to appear. They looked identical; each had a sickly green complexion and a haunted look in their eyes. Their dead gaze did not follow the coach.

“What are they?” Alex began to panic. “They aren’t human.”

“Not anymore.” Jerry pressed the pedal harder and wished that he had spent more time souping up the Silver Lining’s engine.

The creatures stood their ground; their only movement was a gentle sway as if blown by a breeze. More creatures appeared as the coach sped south down Harwood.

“What are they doing?” Erica screamed from the back.

“Scaring us.”

“It’s working.”







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