Eddie Rotten's FrequenZ: Alpha

By William Howser

They came from the sky...

Loud pulses of sound that changed the world in a fraction of a second. At first, no one, especially Eddie Rotten, knew what caused them, but everyone was there to witness the startling results.

As the birds fell from the skies and the dead rose, Eddie and his family fought for survival against the unknown forces that had shifted the equilibrium of society. Had the government developed a radical new method of population control? Why did the news outlets remain dark on the issue?

Conspiracy theories flourish as Eddie, along with his family and the newly formed Zombie Fight Clubs, fight to right the moral order and shed light on the most heinous cover-up in human history.

Decide for yourself what is real and what isn’t...

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Howser
• Release date: Dec 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310634949

William Howser

William was born in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1974 and is the second of eight children. Growing up with several hobbies, he decided to hone-in on just a few. William is a professional musician, artist, podcaster and author. Currently residing in Austin, TX with his wife and two strong boys, William spends time writing and interviewing people for his podcast.

Book preview

The story you’re about to read was sparked by a dream I had. Everything in my life seems to have sparked from one dream or another. This one in particular stood out because it haunted me for so long. It still haunts me. I usually write my dreams down, like that kid in Explorers who wakes up and grabs for his pencil and paper to jot down the design for a motherboard allowing him to talk to aliens. But again, this one stuck to my insides like peanut butter. I haven’t always been a conspiracy theorist, and I can’t rightfully say I’ve given myself over to the Revolutionists movement we see on television today. I do however see myself as awake. Take it or define it as you wish. This dream embellished the subconscious path I am on.

The dream started as two other men and I were stealing a city truck in a familiar no-name town. We were rushed and afraid. I remember sitting, smashed against the window of the passenger side. The driver and the middleman were arguing and bleeding. I definitely remember noticing how red their blood was. Dreams can be so vivid sometimes.

Anyway, there were helicopters landing and military trucks blocking off roads. The median was unguarded so we drove through a blockade, destroying our tires in the process which forced us to stop. The two men both got out on the driver’s side, leaving me alone in the cab. I remember feeling alone and lost.

When the urge to go find my family came, it was interrupted by a loud, humming noise. Somehow, as the sound entered my dream, whether it was the alarm clock I was sleeping through, or a garbage truck outside on the street, I knew that zombies were coming. And the government was using them to either kill us off or round us up.

I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could. My dream took me to an old farmhouse which looked like my grandmothers. She lives in San Antonio, the place where I will be buried when it’s all said and done. My whole family lives there on acres and acres of property, secluded from the rest of the world. I remember feeling the need to grab a weapon and hide in a wet-room attached to the back of the house. Everything was all familiar to me.

I stepped over a dead body, realizing there was the possibility of it becoming a zombie. I closed the swinging screen door behind me as my dream turned dark; changing from day to night in an instant. I’m not sure why it happened, but there seemed to be more detail. All of the sounds of the night came through.

I heard people screaming outside the small room I was in. There was a tall cabinet door I pulled open and stepped into it. In the backyard, a streetlight shone, giving away the positions of many, many zombies as they searched for the living. I also knew, as I hid in the dark cabinet, that this event was bound to happen. It was always a matter of time.

I hadn’t anticipated the loud humming sound that would enter my ears, and I’m not sure why it was so significant. The sound became more understood to me as time ticked forward. I knew it was a weapon of some sort and that it controlled the zombies. I knew it would ultimately control me.

I slowly opened the cabinet door to step out, into the room. As I did, I heard a stick or mop handle clatter to the floor. I saw the shadow of the approaching beast lumber my way. It was on its hands and feet. The creature turned the corner, sniffing the air for my scent, and then it charged!

The blood coursing through my body forced me to jump up from bed and wipe sweat from my face. I walked into the bathroom, confused, and stood there, making sure I was actually awake after one of the most frightening nightmares of my life. Looking in the mirror, I checked my eye color and waited for my hands to stop shaking. I hate when I leave a dream, not knowing if I have lived or died.

The dream stuck with me. The fact that the government was behind the whole thing stuck with me as well. I started doing research on the internet, finding answers to questions I didn’t even know I had. I ended up following the train of thought through a concept that the hierarchy of power will stop at nothing to attain what they want and need; total global dominance by means of population control.

This is the story of a dream. A story written and shared by people from Twitter and Facebook. Some of those people became characters in the story, having shared some of the same questions I had about the future of the human race. The story follows events that happened between the years of 2011 and 2012. News broadcasts, music and media events, even elections were covered during the writing of this book. Because of certain reasons, I eventually stepped away from writing about world government and decided to stick to a story. Names and places were changed in the story as well, purely to keep myself out of trouble.

I begin the story at the first noted sounds of the frequency. Schools are open, people shop, and babies are born. The posts are literally written on the days titled, so all historical facts can be traced to the day. Due to the popularity of the story, an app for Android phones was created. It’s called Zombie Life. The story has even inspired a podcast called the Zombie Life Podcast.

This story is dedicated to those who believe in being awake, and to the dozens of fans and family members who have been a part of this journey over the last few years. I leave you now, and ask that you make a decision for yourself, on what’s real - and what’s not.

"Death cannot kill what never dies" — William Penn

January 2011

January 1, 2011

I thought about making this a video log, but the thought of sitting in front of a camera every few days became nauseating fairly quickly. There has been a change in things. That’s really the best way I can describe it. Before I get too deep, I’ll start with who I am. My name is Eddie Rotten. I’m 37 years old and I live in Houston, TX… well the suburbs of Houston, TX. I’m married. An older son and a younger son. My wife wants me to write all this down so we won’t forget it. And with any luck, if things are happening anywhere else in the world, they’ll just put it here on the blog. Anyway. It’s my first post so I’ll just start with what’s happening.

Around 4 a.m. this morning, we were awakened by what we thought was a train passing through town. After getting up and getting some coffee, I realized it was no train. There was just a low, rumbling coming from somewhere. It went on for hours. I walked outside with my coffee and noticed a few neighbors down the street looking outward just as I was. The sound had a sharp end to it that seemed to come in and out. Like an electric saw blade starting and stopping. I heard a scream from up the street. It was dark, and without a flashlight I had no true perception on what was happening. The scream was quick, followed by some laughter. Like the conversations you hear from inside a tent when you go camping. They were just, there. The laugh put my mind at ease and I made my way back to the door. The sounds in the air stopped. And when they did, I could appreciate the coffee that much more. I knew it was probably nothing more than some construction several miles away. It was just so different than any sound I’d heard before. I closed the door behind me and was met by my wife. Her name is Jennifer.

Tired and kept warm by her robe, she had a coffee herself in her hands. What’s going on?

Its ok babe, go back to sleep.

What was that loud ass sound?

I’m not sure, but it’s gone now, so that’s good. Is there any more coffee?

The conversation ended when the living room window shattered loudly. My wife brought her arms up as her back was turned to the window already and came toward the door. I put my cup down on the banister and went to investigate. It was a bird. It was a very dead bird with the apparent ability to dive bomb itself through two panes of glass. Impressive.

My wife put her cup down and brought in the garbage can. I picked it up by its wing as I squatted in the living room.

What the hell? She said.

I know right? Freaking death wish. I dropped the bird into the trash, and turned my face up to the ceiling. There were light thuds coming from the roof. At first, we thought it was beginning to rain, but I had just been outside. No clouds.

I remember the look on my wife’s face. Confused. My eldest son came in from the hallway, walking up to the sliding door leading to the backyard, and turned on the security light, illuminating the yard. As the thuds progressed on the roof, we advanced to the glass door, peering outside in total disbelief.

The light exposed dozens of black birds smashing violently on the ground, piercing themselves on the peaks of the fence posts, and slamming into the door leading outside. Then, it stopped. My son slowly opened the door, and we stepped outside.

In awe, we slowly stepped between the dead birds. I had never seen anything like this. My wife ran back in and retrieved a flashlight. As far as we could see with the LED beam, there were dead birds everywhere. I told my son to get some plywood from the garage and I helped him board up the window that had been broken.

After the glass was cleaned off the floor and the window was sealed, my son and I ventured out into the front of the house. The street, sidewalk and parking lots were scattered with patches of dead birds. We walked one block up, and noticed a dog in the middle of the street. The dog, just like the birds, was dead. There were people outside exploring just as we were. And as we looked up the street, there were flashlights peering through the early morning darkness. There was some faint whimpering in the distance and a feeling of unsettlement washed over me, so we returned to the house.

My wife immediately set up this blog and told me to log everything. We’ll probably know more tomorrow, or today I should say. It’s early. I’m going back to bed for now. This is Eddie Rotten.

January 10, 2011

My wife is upset with me for not keeping better tabs on our situation. A few days have passed and there’s been lots of change – for everyone. On the 3rd, the city of Webster came and cleaned up all the streets. The smell of decomposing birds and dogs hadn’t permeated the air yet so we were lucky. The very next night, the loud humming sounded again. And again, it resulted in dead animals. The city came once again to clean, but this time there were arrests. Some people were pretty upset that members of their families, even if they were just pets, had died in the streets for no explainable reason. Old men and women argued with the authorities and ultimately a town meeting was called. The sounds went away, so I didn’t go, to the meeting that is.

Yesterday, Sunday the 9th is when everything changed. The sounds came back. This time they were louder. I thought, quick to go to the back door.

It was around 6PM so there was plenty of light. Just as I thought, birds started falling from the sky. The trees looked as if they had black leaves falling from them. The replacement dog my old neighbor bought, howled for just a second, then dropped dead in the middle of the street.

The sounds stopped and I noticed a slight ringing in my ears for just a second. Then it was gone. My sons were both home thankfully, and my wife walked in the door. She had been at her parents.

You hear that?

I did, come look at this. I waived her over to the door where we gazed at our backyard and the dead animals that covered the real estate. My wife shook her head slowly, turned and sat on the couch, and pulled out her phone.

The lights flickered, and then the power went out.

You pay the power?

I said yes, but really I couldn’t remember if I did or not.

My sons entered the room. TV’s out Dad.

As I put my jacket on to go check the power box, my wife asked me, One second, just wait. Ok?

She had that look in her eye again, so I did. The lights flickered. Then flickered again and came back on. Our evening proceeded, but I occasionally glanced out the front door to see when the city was going to come clean the carcasses off the roads and sidewalks. But they never came. We figured they would wait until the morning.

It got later and we ate dinner, played some video games, then lay down.

***

The sound came back. Jennifer and I woke and sat up at the same time. This time it was blisteringly loud. It was hard for me to focus, but I quickly adjusted. My youngest son ran into the room, disoriented and confused. My oldest son ran to check on us, and then disappeared down the hallway. My wife held her hands over our son’s ears and looked at me.

Our eyes watered as the sound shook our eyeballs in their sockets. It was unbearable.

Then, just like before, it stopped. It left us holding each other huddled in the room. I broke away and called out for my oldest. I called out again and heard nothing. I got to the kitchen and noticed the door leading to the garage was open.

My son stepped into sight with a hand full of earplugs. I twisted a pair and pushed them in on my way to the back door. I wanted to see how many more birds, dogs, and cats had lost their lives to this pulse of last sound.

To my astonishment, some of the birds I thought dead were moving. A few dogs even stumbled to their feet. Not all of them, but a few.

BABE! I yelled out.

Jennifer came in with our youngest and walked over to me.

Check this out.

She looked outside. Wow, I thought they were dead?

So did I.

My elder son chimed in. "They were dead."

He left the room and rushed back to the garage. We both smirked and looked outside again. The birds seemed to move their wings, but not hard enough to flap. Definitely not enough to fly; just enough to show they were alive.

The dogs that finally stood up just looked pissed. The hair stood up on their back like someone had run mousse through it. It was good to see the animals were just stunned by that sound, whatever it was.

While my wife and I gazed at the neighbor’s dog slowly walking back and forth on the street that bordered the back of our property, we tried to come up with an explanation for the sound. Did it sound more like a train? A horn? What was it? We continued to talk and watch.

Our neighbor came outside. Standing on his front porch, he ran his thumbs round the elastic of his ‘old man shorts’. He walked back inside, and returned with a dog bone. He called out for his dog, but his dog just paced in the street.

That’s why we don’t need a dog, babe. I said. She rolled her eyes.

The old man stepped off the front porch and proceeded down the straight sidewalk toward the road, carefully stepping around the occasional twitching bird. When he got to the mailbox, he stopped and called for his dog again. The dog stopped pacing and turned around to look at him.

See babe, his dog was just distracted. My wife argued back.

A bird flopped around the old man’s ankle, then the old man cried out, and bent forward, grabbing his angle. YOU LITTLE!

The man gave one hard stomp and crushed the bird into the concrete. It was across the backyard and a one-lane street, but I could see the blood that bird drew from his flesh. It must have pecked him or something. The dog noticed, and slowly started walking toward the old man. The old man held the bone in his hand and leaned up against the mailbox, lifting his leg to get a better look at the damage the bird left.

Behind him, the birds in the yard started flapping their wings wildly, like thousands of little fish in the water. The old man glanced up and noticed my wife and me watching.

AND JUST WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT? The old man shouted. UGH! He sighed loudly and turned around, waving the bone in his hand and limping back to his house. His dog seemed to follow, but began to quicken its pace.

"You see babe, if the dog had come inside when his master called him, none of this would have ever happened." I said satisfied.

The dog slowly made it to his owner and without warning, latched on to his leg. The scream was heard all over the neighborhood. As the dog started attacking his owner, it pulled and twisted in every direction.

I quickly opened the door to go help him, but was grabbed tightly on my arm. My eldest son was holding me back with one hand, and in the other was a shotgun. I knew he was trying to help, but I thought the shotgun was overkill.

He didn’t hesitate and pulled me back inside. My attention turned back to the scene and as I watched with my family, every undead dog in the neighborhood stumbled toward the old