Seeds Of The Dead is a story about a man at the crossroads, one which will, in turn, jeopardize the very fate of humankind. On one hand, this man supports the creation of GMO’s (genetically modified organisms) to help feed the vast population of the world. But to do so, he must align himself with a nefarious corporation and the corrupt elitists who control it.
Set against a zombie-apocalypse in small-town America, the story’s hero is Peter Malik, a promising young scientist employed by the dubious Moonstar Foods INC. When Peter learns the treachery his corporation is set to unleash upon the unsuspecting masses, he threatens to expose their dark secret by turning whistleblower. The corporation retaliates, contaminating Peter’s hometown with infected food, and turns the people Peter loves most into flesh-eating zombies. The zombie eating machines created by the Moonstar is the perfect biological weapon and will be used for a very sinister purpose: population control of the 99 percent.
Can Peter save his hometown, his parents, and the woman he adores, plus warn the entire planet of the impending doom?
Targeted Age Group:: 15-54
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Seeds of the Dead is a project I have been working on for years. I wanted to always do a zombie apocalypse type story, and I wanted to tie-it with our food supply and figured a bioengineering conglomerate like Monsanto and GMO (awesome villains) as the source of the virus would be a great diving off point. It's a mix of survival horror, action, and gallows humor. Hope you all enjoy it!
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Just a healthy dose of imagination! The characters are the real strength of the story, and their interactions and story arcs make for a thrilling, fun read!
A dusty plot of land in the middle of nowhere—a depressing sight to behold as one could appreciate that its wasted potential for beauty—ravaged by poverty and drought—had long lead to this destruction of the American Dream. Rows of withered corn stalks laid broken and dying on the cracked soil all-thirsting for a smattering of rain. A lone farmer muttered obscenities while nailing a foreclosure sign on his dilapidated gate. Hard lines on his otherwise youthful face bespeak a life of stress and worry. Near-featherless chickens, malnourished with neglect, pecked at the barren ground near his feet. Behind him in the distance sat the skeletal structure of an ancestral farmhouse like a ghost in ruins.
A low rumbling sound distracted the farmer—he glanced up toward the road just as his lead hammer missed the mark and smashed the tip of his thumb to a bloody pulp. “Ahhhh— shit!” He grunted as the heavy hammer fell to the ground, striking the tip of his tattered boot and crushing his big toe within. He hopped on one foot in anguish as the chickens scattered under his feet while flapping their naked wings.
The distant rumbling soon became a convoy of ominous black semi-trucks. One by one, they rolled past the farmer, his eyes gleaming with hatred. The cabs and trailers bear no markings or logos, reflecting only a clean, black metallic shine. “You bastards put me out of house and home, but I’ll be back, I promise you that, I’ll be back!” the farmer shouted, waving an angry fist with his uninjured hand.
As the last of the fleet passed him by from the opposite direction, another vehicle approached. The farmer squinted, unable to discern more than a shiny, glistening grill in the diffuse sunlight. After a minute, a black Escalade glided abreast of the farmer. He could not make out anything in the tinted windows except his ragged reflection. Seconds passed before he summoned his courage and retrieved the lead hammer at his feet, raising it defiantly.
“Well, show yourselves, God-Damn cowards!”
The passenger window powered down, and the blood drained from the farmer’s face. “Oh I didn’t mean anything,” he sputtered, dropping the hammer, raising his hands in supplication. “I’ll leave, I will! And I’ll give you no hassle whatsoever,” he vowed, stumbling backwards. “Oh God, man!” he pleaded. “You can’t possibly want to shoot me over this!”
A gun barrel recoiled twice in the open window, its report muffled by a silencer. The farmer clutched his belly as two distinct holes in his undershirt stained the cotton fabric red. He dropped to his knees and slammed hard on his back, gasping to retrieve the air hissing from his lungs. The dying man heard the Escalade’s door opening, followed by the click clacking of heeltaps on the pavement. He watched a pair of oxford dress shoes leisurely approaching his fading eyesight.
“Your chickens will dine well tonight,” said the voice above the oxfords.
Finally, in graying vision, the farmer saw his starving chickens gathered about his face. They pecked at the moist orifices, as they would peck maggots off any rotting carcass.
Links to Purchase Print Books
Buy Seeds of the Dead Print Edition at Amazon
Links to Purchase eBooks – Click links for book samples and reviews
Buy Seeds of the Dead On Amazon
Have you read this book? Tell us what you thought! All information was provided by the author and not edited by us. This is so you get to know the author better.