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Earth’s Survivors Plague Geo’s Book Previews 

Earth’s Survivors Plague

Book Previews Posted by Geo July 02, 2017 12:06:32



Earth’s Survivors: Plague is © Copyright 2015 Wendell Sweet, all rights reserved.

Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 by Wendell Sweet, All rights reserved

This book preview is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book preview may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.



Complex C: Patient Ward

Test Subject: Michael Hunter

Compound SS-V2765

Gabe Kohlson moved away from the monitors. “Heart rate is dropping, don’t you think…” He stopped as the monitor began to chime softly. Before he could get fully turned around the chiming turned into a strident alarm that rose and fell. “Dammit,” Kohlson said as he finished his turn.

What is it,” David Johns, wheeling his chair across the short space of the control room. His outstretched hands caught him at the counter top and slowed him at Kohlson’s monitor.

Flat lined,” Kohlson said as he pushed a button on the wall to confirm what the doctors one level up already knew. Michael Hunter was dead.

I see it,” Doctor Ed Adams replied over the ceiling speakers. The staff called him Doctor Christmas for his long white beard and oversize belly. “Berty and I are on the way.”

Lot of good that will do,” Johns muttered.

Kohlson turned to him. “Go on in… Do CPR if you want… They don’t pay me enough to do it. I don’t know what that shit is. Look at the way the Doc suits up. Michael Hunter will be in rigor before anyone gets in there at all.”

No argument,” Johns said. He wheeled back to his own monitor, called up an incident sheet and began to type.

Me too,” Kohlson agreed. “Preserve the video, med and monitor data.” He punched a few buttons on his console and an interface for the medical equipment came up. He saved the last 48 hours of data, and then began to fill out his own incident report. These reports might never be seen by more than one person, maybe two if you counted the person that wrote it, Kohlson thought, but it would always be there. Classified. Top secret for the next hundred years or so. And he wondered about that too. Would it even be released after a long period? He doubted it. The things they were doing here were bad shit. Shit you didn’t ever want the American public to know about. This incident report, along with the one Johns was doing, would probably get buried deep under some program listing that no one would ever suspect to look into. Or, maybe it would get burned right along with Michael Hunter’s body. He glanced up at the clock and then went back to typing.

Uh… Call it 4:32 PM?” He asked.

Works for me,” Johns agreed.

I got 94 for the body,” Johns said.

Yeah… Yeah, me too. That’s a fast drop, but we both got the same thing. 94 it is… No heart, no respiratory, dead as dog shit.”

Dog shit,” Johns agreed. They both fell silent as they typed. A few moments later the doors to the observation room chimed, the air purifiers turned on with a high pitched whine, and they could both feel the air as it dragged past them and into the air ducts. The entire volume would be replaced and the room depressurized and then re-pressurized before the doors would open. And that would only happen after the air was tested and retested. A good twenty minutes away before anyone would step foot into the room with Michael Hunter.

Complex C, Autopsy Room: 6:58 pm

Ed Adams and Roberta Summers had dissected Michael Hunters body methodically. The autopsy had been painstaking. It had to be, it was recorded in detail and some General somewhere, hell, maybe even the president would be looking that video over in the next few days. Maybe even watching live now. They had that capability. There was nothing to see. He had suffered a major heart attack. The heart had a defect. No history. One of those things that just came along and fucked up your two billion dollar research project all at once.

Coronary Thrombosis,” He spoke in a measured voice. “Appears to be after the fact. The artery looks to be mildly occluded… The myocardial infarction appears to be caused from a congenital defect… Specifically an Atrial Septal Defect… Berty?”

I concur. Easily overlooked. The lack of sustenance put a higher demand on the subject’s heart, the defect became a major player at that point… Bad luck for us.”

Uh, bad luck for Michael Hunter,” Ed Adams added.

Of course. Bad luck for the subject, Michael Hunter. I simply meant bad luck for a research volunteer to be defective in such a way that in effect it would compromise a project of this magnitude so badly.” She turned her eyes up to one of the cameras she knew to be there. “This in no way paints a true picture of V2765. We should proceed, unsatisfying as these circumstances might be, we should proceed with subjects 1120F and 1119X… Same compound.” She turned back to the corpse on the table. “You want me to do the brain biopsy,” She asked Ed.

Ed frowned as he made eye contact with her. They had decided, at least he had thought they had decided, not to mention brain biopsies. Three times now he had discussed the importance of not focusing on the changes that V2765 made to the brain. Anything that altered the brain could alter financing, funding, lab time. Even the government didn’t like changes to brain matter.

Are you thinking there could have been an embolism?” He asked.

‘Well I,” she sputtered away for a second until Ed rescued her.

I think all we would see is evidence of the embolism that occurred near the heart. We could search out areas of the body and most likely find more than one occurrence of embolism. Well thought, but I believe we will take a look at the brain later in the week. Right now I want to focus on the enzymes, blood work, and readying the other two for a conclusion of this trial.”

Yes. I agree entirely, Doctor Adams.”

You have your samples?”

Yes of course, Doctor. Rex?”

Ed frowned hard and shrugged his shoulders in the direction of the thick glass. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “None down here. That was stupid, Berty.“

What was that,” Kohlson asked Johns in the control room.

What?” Johns asked.

That… Whisper, I guess,” Kohlson said.

Oh… That. You know those two got it bad for each other. Probably making little remarks you don’t want to hear. Besides which, you make a report on that and we all have to deal with it. Them, sure, but us too because they’ll be pissed off about it. Best to let that shit slide: If the boss wants to know he will. He looks at all of this shit in depth.”

Kohlson looked about to say more when Doctor Christmas began talking once more in the autopsy room.

Let’s close him up,” Ed Adams said. He stepped on a switch set into the floor, paused, and then spoke again. “Lower the air temperature in here. We intend to keep him a few hours while we attend to other parts of the autopsy… No one in here for any reason.”

Out in the control room Johns keyed his mic button. “Will do… How low, Doc.?”

I guess about 34 Fahrenheit will do… Just to slow it all down for a while.”

Done,” Johns agreed. He adjusted a temperature graphic on a nearby monitor via his mouse.

Kohlson leaned over across the short distance. “So we got to look at that shit for a while? Great.”

They’re gonna sew him up so it won’t be so bad.”

Yeah… That’s like, I got a mild case of flu. It’s still gonna suck because every time I look anywhere I’m gonna feel compelled to look at it.”

Yeah. Me too. It’s there. Draws you to it. Like the Bunny on the Playboy Cover. You look at the rest of the magazine, but you know you’re gonna end up looking at her. She’s the reason you bought the magazine after all.”

Kohlson nodded and smiled. “And I’d rather look at Miss January than a dead guy with big stitches across his belly and over his chest, sewing him back up again. That is some ugly shit.”

Johns laughed. “Human nature. Why do you think people slow down and look at accidents?”

‘Cause we’re morbid mother fuckers,” Kohlson agreed.

Well, that too, but it is that fascination with death we have. Look,” He pointed at the monitor. Do you think Michael Hunter knew he’d be laying on a steel slab this afternoon, dick hanging out, with Doctor Christmas shoving his guts back in and stitching him up with his nursey assisting?” They both laughed and turned away.

She ain’t half…”

A scream cut off the conversation and both men turned quickly back to the monitor.

Michael Hunter was sitting up on the steel table. Arms drooped at his side. Mouth yawning. Doctor Christmas had backed away until he had met the wall behind him. Nurse Berty was nowhere to be seen.

What the fuck… What the fuck. Get a camera on the floor… Maybe she fainted,” Kohlson said.

Got it,” Johns agreed. He stabbed at the keys on his keyboard and a view of the table at an angle appeared. Nurse Bertie’s leg could be seen, angled away from the table, skirt hiked high. The camera paused briefly and then the view began to shift as Johns manipulated the camera angle. Her face came into view. Mouth open, blood seeping from one corner.

Doctor,” Kohlson called over the speaker system. Outside the airlocks had clicked on and the air was cycling. Good, he thought, in twenty minutes the Calvary would be here. “Doctor Adams?”

The doctor finally took his eyes off Michael Hunter and turned toward one of the cameras. On the table Michael Hunter leaned forward and tumbled off the edge of the table. At the same instant the air purifier quit cycling and three armed men in gas masks stepped into the airlock.

Jesus,” Johns sputtered. “You guys can’t do that shit. That air has to be worked?” Three more men stepped through the lock and the door to the autopsy room opened as well as the door to the control room. A split second later the rifles in their hands began to roar. The sound was louder than Kohlson expected in the enclosed space. He clasped his hands over his ears, but it did little good. The soldiers, he saw, were wearing ear protection of some sort. Noise canceling headgear. The remaining three soldiers had stepped into the control room, he saw as he looked back up from the floor. They kept their rifles leveled at them, the others were still firing within the confines of the small autopsy room. A small gray cloud was creeping along the floor and rolling slowly into the control room. The stench of gunpowder was strong in the enclosed space. The air purifiers were off. Kohlson knew there was another control room outside this one that controlled this space, and possibly another outside of that space that controlled that space. Built in protection, and they were in a very bad space.

Kohlson saw Michael Hunter lurch to his feet and stumble into the soldiers who were firing point blank range in the tight confines. A series of bullets finally tore across his chest and then into his head and he fell from view. A second later the firing dropped off and then stopped completely.

Johns was listening to the sound of his own heart hammering for a space of seconds before he figured out it was his own. The smell of gunpowder was nauseating, and he suddenly lunged forward and vomited on his shoes. As he was lifting his head he saw that the soldiers were retreating back through the airlocks and into the outer spaces of the compound.

Jesus,” Kohlson managed before he to bent forward and vomited too. He heard the air filtering kick back on and both of them rolled away from the puddles of vomit and quickly disappearing low, gray vapor from the rifles firing. The doors into the autopsy room suddenly banged shut and then their own door whispered closed as well: Once again they were isolated in their small space.

They both sat silent for a moment, and then Kohlson left and returned from the small bathroom with a mop and bucket from the utility closet there. He left and returned with a bottle of disinfectant and sprayed down the vomit and the balance of the small room.

That won’t do shit,” Johns said solemnly. We’re infected. Whatever they infected that guy Hunter with, we got it now.”

Kohlson ignored him, sprayed down John’s shoes as well as the floor. He handed John’s a pack of Sani-Towels and a red plastic bio bag, and then sat down to wait the ten minutes for the disinfectant to work. Neither spoke as the minutes ticked by.

Eventually John’s looked at his watch, sighed, and then began to clean the mess from his shoes. Kohlson checked his own watch. He had been thinking about what had happened. Playing it over and over in his head as the minutes ticked by. No way were they in the clear. No way. John’s was right. They were fucked. He rose and then walked the short distance: He bent and cleaned up the mess. He returned the equipment to the small closet, silence still holding, and then came back and sat down.

You heard me, right?” John’s asked at last when the silence became unbearable for him.

I heard you,” Kohlson admitted. “I just don’t give a fuck… It’s too fresh… I can’t believe it right now.” He looked up at the clock. “Mother fucker… I was off duty in twenty minutes… Twenty goddamn minutes!” He spun and looked at Johns, but Johns was looking up at the monitors that were still on in the autopsy room. The smoke was being drawn out by the air exchange, and the horror of the room was slowly coming into focus.

Doctor Adams lay sprawled in one corner, a line of bullet holes stitched across his back. The back portion of his skull was missing, jagged bone and gray-black hair clumped wildly around the fractured bone. Johns gagged and looked away.

Jesus… They killed everybody,” Kohlson said as he continued to watch. Nurse Bertie lay where she had fallen. Only her legs visible in the shot they could see. Michael Hunter lay against the end of the stainless slab. His head a shapeless mass. The stitches across his chest and stomach bulging. Kohlson finally turned away too.

They’re coming back for us.” Johns said.

Kohlson spun to the door.

Not now, stupid ass, but you can’t think we get to live after that. They contaminated our air. We’re dead. No way are we not dead.”

Kohlson said nothing.


It was six hours before the soldiers came.

They had finally taken a better look at the room. Johns moving the camera around as Kohlson watched.

Dave… Tell me I’m wrong, but that fucker came back to life, right?” He was unsure even as he said it.

Johns shrugged. “I think what happened is they missed something… We missed something. Maybe a lead came off. You know, and the lead came off and so he seemed dead and he wasn’t dead at all, not really, he was still alive. Just that lead was off.”


Yeah. I mean… I mean the alternative is that he came back to life… You don’t think that do you? I mean, do you? ‘Cause that’s fucking crazy, Gabe. Crazy.”

No. No, I can see what you mean I can see where…”

The air lock cycled on and six soldiers stepped into the hall like space that was actually just an airlock between the control room, the autopsy room, the former patient ward and the outside world. Johns tensed, waiting for the door to their space to cycle on, but it didn’t.

The soldiers were dressed head to toe in army drab plastic coveralls. Respirators, big units, sat on their backs and a full face shield and breathing apparatus was on their face, somehow joined into the coveralls. Tape was wound around the elastic cuffs of the legs and the plastic boot covers that joined there. Flexible olive green gloves covered their hands, also taped where they slipped under the plastic coveralls.. They never looked their way at all, just waited for the air lock to cycle and then stepped into the autopsy room. A second later the monitors went dead in the control room.

Fuck,” David Johns said. “That is not good at all.”

Kohlson got up and left the room. A minute later he was back with two diet colas. He handed one to David johns and then sat back down. Johns glanced down at the cola. The top was open already. He looked at Kohlson and Kohlson stared back unblinking. The med supply was also in that closet. They had talked it over once. They had decided that… He pushed it away and focused on the low whisper of the air exchange

You think they will outright kill us,” Kohlson asked after a few long minutes of silence.

Gabe… I think they will, Gabe.” Johns said after a hesitation. He tried to stop himself but he glanced down at the cola in his hand. It was half full. White powder floated on the surface. Clumped and drifting like tiny icebergs across a cola sea. “Probably… No. They’re listening in right now, I’m sure. Listening to see where our minds are at: As soon as those flunkies in there are finished with that job they’ll be in here to finish up the clean up.” He swallowed hard.

Yeah. I guess that’s how I see it too,” Kohlson agreed. He raised his can and tapped the side. “Been good knowing you, Dave.”

Johns stared him down for a few moments and then sighed. “Yeah… Same here. He raised the can in a salute and then downed it. Kohlson followed suit. Silence descended on the control room.

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Comments on 'Earth’s Survivors Plague Geo’s Book Previews ' (13)

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    Earth’s Survivors Zombie Plagues: Collection Two
    Earth’s Survivors Zombie Plagues (Book 2)
    The Earth’s Survivors Zombie Plagues Collection Two contains the full text from books three and four.Book Three:The struggle to stay alive has leveled out. The Survivors have found their place in the wilderness and The Nation…
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  3. Dell says:

    Lyrics Copyright © Wendell G. Sweet 2011 ♪ ♫ ♪ Date Written; 11-18-2011

    Song Title: Letter Home Style: Alt

    Verse 1
    Put my pen to the page… I don’t often get the time… Builds such guilt inside… But I know you remain mine… And I know it hurts you too… Everyday… But there’s nothing we can do.
    Instrumental……………………………….Transitional Lead……………………
    Verse 2
    I’m so lonely here… Been so long since I’ve seen your face…Time keeps marching on… Seems no end to this place… But if I close my eyes… I can see you clearly… And dream you’re near me.
    Instrumental……………………………….Short lead Lead……………………
    Verse 3
    Morning comes… I could swear I feel you next to me… But as I shake off the sleep… It’s clear to see… I am all alone… Same as so many days in a row… No… This is not home…
    Rub the sleep from my… tired eyes… My face is set but my heart cries…
    My thoughts try to hold me but I push them away…
    Watch the sunrise in this place… Struggle with the words I want to say…
    Instrumental……………………………….Short lead Lead……………………
    Verse 4
    I don’t miss you anymore… It’s just a never ending need… I can hold back my tears… But my heart will bleed…Gets the best of me… I confess… Sometimes there is no best.
    Instrumental………………………………. Long Lead……………………
    I hear life calling, but it’s so far away… Feels I am walking on the edge of a blade… And the day’s moving on… Morning’s nearly gone…
    Instrumental……………………………….Lead wind down to last verse ……………………
    Verse 5
    I’ll say goodbye… You know my heart is always with you… You know I love you… Those are the only words I know are true…You are always with me… I’m coming home… I just don’t know when that might be…
    I push the tears from my eyes… I set my face but my heart still cries…
    My thoughts try to hold me but I… push them away…
    Watch the sunrise… in this place… Start my day…
    Watch the sunrise… in this place… Start my day…
    (Slows to single acoustic stops at home)
    Send this letter home to you… Send this letter home…

    Why I Wrote It:
    I sat down and made my self open and God gave me this song. It’s a really good song. The emotion to write it came from my time alone, others I knew. It’s hard on relationships, and that is where I was writing from. But part way through I realized that it could be about anyone, anywhere, missing someone. There are thousands of sons, brothers, husbands, sisters, wives and daughters gone to war, or home waiting for those they love. It could be anyone, anywhere missing the one they love… See it on YouTube

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    Fig Street W. G. Sweet

    Under the city of Glennville a series of caves cut from the limestone by the Black River attract visitors, children, some have entered and never come out; maybe lost, maybe part of Glennville’s secrets. Something else lives in the cold, dark caves. Something some have suspected but refuse to believe. After all, it’s 1969. Things are rational, safe. https://www.angusrobertson.com.au/ebooks/fig-street-w-g-sweet/p/9798201287184

    Alabama Island W. G. Sweet

    Just after Joel began to lower the rifle the Suburban’s headlights suddenly flicked on and the rear tires spun on the slick pavement smoking and screaming as they clawed for purchase. The engine whined higher in pitch and the big Suburban seemed to jump out into the intersection… #Apocalypse #EndTimes https://www.angusrobertson.com.au/ebooks/alabama-island-w-g-sweet/p/9798201428990

  12. macker says:

    Top reviews from the United States

    Red Butler 4.0 out of 5 stars Trip into the nitty-gritty grinder

    Reviewed in the United States on October 6, 2021Verified Purchase Review for White Trash by A.L. Norton and Dell Sweet
    Crime drama fiction is not my usual type of read, still once in a while it is a means of tapping into street smarts while living in the burbs. Here we get the trailer park miserable life of one David Cross, the common man, the underdog ex-con. The story opens to a shootout drug deal gone bad and a crash behind David’s trailer. The grisly scene yields drugs and vast amounts of money before the police arrive. Soon David is on the run with April, a lovely girl from the other end of the park. Will David and his new lady slay all the evil giants chasing them to Mexico safe haven? Will he be crossed or cross the border? We have been here before with Pulp Fiction and True Romance. There is a lot of violence and creepy mafia people in this one, BUT the first half of the book has an undercurrent of poverty and low-life humor that examines the lower stratifications of getting by in America that makes the book interesting. It should have also been continued in the second half but was not. At this midpoint, too many periphery characters are fleshed out that really were not needed. It becomes an ensemble cast of creepies chasing David for the booty, when focus might have been on key players to prevent convolution and an overlong tale. Obviously the authors decided upon an elaborate field of play with many nuts and bolts to be tied together neatly in the end, which they did very well. There is a strong conversation about white trash and how they cannot get a leg up in this life, and the horrors of the trailer park and more time could have been spent there. Still, a great deal of thought went into this work by the authors, intricate nuance was ably employed. I liked that, even if I could not relate or care about any of the characters engaged in endless criminal actions.


    By A. L. Norton & Dell Sweet

    Copyright © 2021 by A. L Norton & Dell Sweet

    PUBLISHED BY: A. L. Norton & Dell Sweet; all rights reserved

    This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


    This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to an actual living person’s places, situations, or events is purely coincidental.

    This novel is Copyright © 2021 A. L. Norton & Dell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any electronic, print, scanner, or other means and distributed without the authors’ permission. The Author keeps all rights.

    We grant permission to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

    Cover art Copyright © 2021 Dell Sweet

    This preview is not censored and is rated 21+

    This material may not be copied and or embedded in any other website or medium. It is licensed to wendellsweet.com. If you would like to share this material, please point you traffic to this link. Thank you.

    Vinny Westley answered the phone behind his bar and listened. He dragged a pad over and wrote as he listened. “Yeah, yeah,” he said at last. “I’ll make some calls in a few hours. Maybe I’ll call you back, Jimmy. I’ll see.” He hung up the phone and looked down at the pad. Tommy Murphy was looking for a couple of young kids on the run with cash and drugs. There would be of suitable reward made for finding them in any condition. Tommy only cared about the merchandise. Not the kids. If they tried to unload any of it here, he’d know. He looked at his watch, 3:45 a.m. Fuck it, he thought. He picked up the phone and began to make his phone calls. After all, it was Tommy Murphy. Best to get on it fast. Not fuck it up. Tommy had a long memory, and that could be good, or it could be awful.


    “We really should get going, David.”

    “Oh, like I didn’t say that myself?” David asked.

    “You may have,” April said. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.

    “Okay,” David agreed. April sat up and then stood from the bed. She padded to a large suitcase she had bought yesterday. April stood naked and pondered what to wear. She looked back over her shoulder at David, catching him watching. “Put your eyes back in your head, David. We have to go,” she told him.

    David sighed deeply. “But you’re so beautiful.” The sheet tented around his waist. She smiled and then walked back to the bed. One hand slid under the sheet and circled him.

    “How are we ever going to get anything done?” she asked in a husky voice as her lips settled on his own.

    He pulled her onto the bed.


    The phone rang.

    “No. Nothing at all,” Robert Robello said as he picked it up. “Well, hey, I know that name. April Evans. That was- “He dragged forward some paperwork on his desk from the day before, nearly spilling his coffee as he did.

    “Yeah. Sold April a car yesterday. Cash. Her and her husband, David. David and April Evans. They coughed up about six grand altogether. Cash. From the bank, they said—all hundred-dollar bills. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that money, is there?” he asked. “Oh? Who! Jesus, who wants to piss him off. No, I don’t want to know. Got a pen?” He rattled off the vehicle description and the plate number into the phone. “Just tell him it was me who passed it along… Fucking-A, I will! I see them again. I’ll snatch them right up. Yeah, yeah. You got it, Vinny.”

    He hung up the phone and picked up the coffee cup. How did a couple of young kids like that rip off Tommy Murphy, he wondered? Best not to think about it, he told himself. He only wished he had known yesterday. He could have snatched them both upright then. It would have been a good pay off too, probably. Fuck. Well, he told himself, at least Tommy Murphy would know the lead had come from him. That could pay off in the future, he told himself.

    He took a sip from his coffee and then snagged an ‘eclair from the box on the desk. He glanced at his watch. 4:30 a.m. “Fuck the clogged arteries,” he muttered. He took a massive bite from the ‘eclair.

    A new collaboration between Dell Sweet and A. L. Norton: White Trash is the first novel in a series of Crime novels. Read it right now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09D2NKCD9

  13. Hanna says:

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    Glennville Book 8W. G. Sweet Wendell Sweet

    Joel has lived and worked his whole life in the small town of Glennville, but his life is about to change forever; only time will tell if it is for the better or the worse. He goes to work at the mill, drinks with the few friends he has at a local bar on the weekends. He’s got his truck packed for an off-grid adventure he’s planed for his vacation. Fortunate for him, because when he awakens to leave for that trip, everything has changed permanently… https://play.google.com/store/books/details/W_G_Sweet_Alabama?id=nLgsEAAAQBAJ

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