Beware the Eyes of Darkness

By Reyn

Welcome back to the world of Reyn. In this installment, evolving zombies brutalize their victims and plunge the globe into a hellish nightmare. Some of the toughest and most unique Arizonans are in Derecks path. As he attempts to unite the survivors, he is interrupted by a zealous blue-lives-matter policeman, an eccentric professor, and a disturbed Turkish woman named Sadine. She and the zombies both want to rip Derecks body apart. Surviving this nightmare means theyll have to forget everything they thought they knew about zombies, trust one another, and beware the eyes of darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984527271

Book preview

Beware The Eyes of

DARKNESS

© World Of Reyn

Written By: REYN

Copyright © 2018 by Reyn

ISBN:                  Softcover                  978-1-9845-2728-8

                            eBook                       978-1-9845-2727-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 05/31/2018

Xlibris

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Contents

Prologue     What do you See?

Chapter 1     Gym Rats

Chapter 2     The Pleasant Stroll

Chapter 3     Calling The Shots

Chapter 4     One Gutsy Kid

Chapter 5     Home Is Where The…

Chapter 6     Stronger Together

Chapter 7     This Is Our Home

Chapter 8     The Meat and Greet

Chapter 9     The Death Of Innocence

Chapter 10   Moody Blues

Chapter 11   Mob Of The Dead

Chapter 12   Casualties Of War

Chapter 13   Beware The Aces And Eights

Chapter 14   Backstabber

Chapter 15   Into The Eyes Of Darkness

With an open mind and open eyes, we are privy to new perspectives and knowledge.

And remember… There is no knowledge that is not power.

What do you See?

A lonely factory sat atop a mile of grass and sand just before the Gulf of Mexico. There wasn’t anything around for miles in Baffin Bay, Texas… except on this occasion. The serene plains were interrupted with clamoring policemen and their dancing red and blue lights.

The land’s only objections to their presence were the wailing winds and rapidly approaching sunset.

Nymaa (pronounced Nee-maw) had become the most heinous name since Bin Laden and Bashar al-Assad. Nymaa was the reason Texas S.W.A.T and the F.B.I littered the pristine shores at the entrance of the papermill.

The double doors to the factory burst open. Multiple men armed with assault weapons poured out of the doors and what ensued was immediate gunfire. Nymaa’s cult followers came out wearing shabby clothes. A few were wearing green hooded robes. They fired their AK-47s and combat began.

The wind ceased to exist and the sunset came to a complete halt. Nature wanted nothing to do with the ammo that pierced the cars and skin. The policemen returned fire, and as the believers made their way out of the building; they created a united front. Some would rush individual policemen and others attempted to parry gunfire. One-by-one, the cultists would take shots and fall. And more followers would exit the factory to join the remaining.

The cultists had law enforcement outgunned. The police would have to rely on their training and skill to handle the situation best. But in the absence of skill, ambition made a good substitute.

Rookie F.B.I Agent Veronica Walker saw an opportunity. Not just a chance to run past the gunmen and get into the paper mill. She saw a chance to finally bring peace to all of Nymaa’s victims.

Agent Walker bolted from behind her car and slipped inside the mill before anyone noticed. The bureau couldn’t afford another failed attempt at bringing the terrorist, known only as Nymaa, to justice.

The doors drifted closed and the paper mill appeared empty now. Walker switched on her tactical flashlight and kept her gun at the ready. She continued forward through the mill. The sound of the gun fire outside became faint as Walker made her way deeper into the factory. She pushed off the regret of going maverick and let her eyes investigate the factory. Piles of clothes lined the conveyer belts and much of the equipment was rusted and filthy.

Walker made her way around a large vat. With her flashlight, she could see something lying on the ground. Agent Walker’s steps grew smaller and she used her flashlight to inspect the object. A rather large rat lay dead on its side. It was a bad sign, but Walker shuffled forward. Symbolism and metaphors had no place in the dangerous facility. The ordinary rafters and walkways above become suspicious auguries of possibilities. Every closed door, every shadow and every empty barrel became hiding spots for potential threats.

Her armpits became heavy with the sweat of anticipation in a narrow corridor. The exposed hanging light bulbs and cold-hard concrete were unsettling. She opened the door to a well-lit corridor. Several large windows gave way to a courtyard. Where a few benches joined trees in an area with grass and a skylight. It was probably meant to keep factory workers from getting too depressed with being indoors for long periods of time.

Agent Walker froze when she saw the courtyard lawn was covered with many lifeless bodies face down and naked. Women and children lined the manicured outdoor area. Some of the bodies looked more recently deceased than others.

Turning right led agent Veronica down another dark hallway and finally to a heavy steel door at the end. Light escaped the crack under the door and whispers could be heard inside. On the door, several sinister symbols were drawn.

Agent Walker took a deep breath as she stood by the door. She almost coughed at the rotting foul odor permeating from the room along with the swarm of flies buzzing.

She put her hand on the push lever of the door. Then placed the ball of her foot on the bottom of the door and exhaled. She kicked the door open with her foot. In an instant, her standard issue pistol and flashlight shined directly on Nymaa. He wore a flowing velvet green robe with gold trim. Both his hands were in the air and his head and eyes were on the ceiling.

Agent Walker had studied his every move, his three internet videos, and visited every crime scene. The towering white man stood before her, and for a moment, he almost lived up to the God-like image his followers created of him. He was chanting in an unrecognizable language and seemed unhindered by Agent Walker’s presence.

The room they stood in was a surprisingly small office. Several storage bins sitting in the corner on the right were illuminated by candles perched high on rickety shelving. On the back wall was a more than life-size mural of Osiris. The green-skinned Egyptian God of afterlife bearing his traditional crook and flail. The damning face painted on him was the perfect marriage between imminent chaos and hatred.

In the middle of the room was an old office desk. Atop the desk was a man’s corpse and the source of the wretched odor. His head, arms, torso and legs had all been cut apart. The detached parts were wrapped in gauze and lying on the table as puzzle pieces, ready to be reattached.

As agent Walker’s eyes became fixated on the dismembered body, a figure to her left caught her eye. A green robe moving closer was in her peripheral.

Without hesitation, Agent Walker discharged her weapon into a woman holding a camera. Her shot landed in the throat of the unarmed woman causing blood to pour over her robe. A gurgling sound escaped her throat as she collapsed. Agent Walker’s eyes went wide at the realization of her actions. Her mind reeled.

Miss, can you hear me? Please be okay. I’m so sorry. Can you hear me? Miss? Agent Walker wanted to say any of those things, but she couldn’t. She was petrified. She remained frozen until a familiar voice shouted out.

FBI, drop your weapons! Agent Walker turned towards the door at the voices of F.B.I Agent Isaiah Hernandez’s and his team of policemen. As the room filled with officers of Hernandez’s team, Nymaa eyes remained skyward in recital of a foreign prayer. He remained in the same position while the officer’s guns and flashlights created a half circle around him. Nymaa, you’re hereby under arrest for terrorism and conspiracy to assassinate the president!

Nymaa’s prayer continued without interruptions for a moment before he stopped on his own. He brought his skyward gaze down and his hands to rest to his sides.

Put your hands behind your head and get down on the ground. Agent Hernandez’s commands to Nymaa were still met with disregard. For the first time, Nymaa was face to face with the law. His expression was scornful. And his eyes were void of any humanity.

You’ve got until the count of three, Hernandez pressed.

He won’t comply, get the taser out. An officer in the team shouted.

No taser, Hernandez responded. Get down, now! Still, Nymaa didn’t respond. 1… …2… … …3! There was a slight pause as the team looked at Hernandez, not sure if they should fire. Hernandez responded with his weapon. The other officers fired as well. The tight space became a chamber of bullets.

Nothing else could be heard over the gunfire in the room. Not much could be heard at all accept for a ringing sound. But with all the force and violence, Nymaa remained defiant. His body took many bullets and refused to fall. Round after round from several officers penetrated the tall man and collided with the plaster wall behind him. Dozens of shots, and some from high-power rifles, sprayed his blood against the wall behind him. And Nymaa remained standing.

Hold your fire! Hernandez shouted and waved his hand in the air. The gunfire stopped and Nymaa remained on his feet, scowl intact.

What the fuck? An officer in the crowd said. Hernandez’s brow furrowed as his thoughts piled up. Nymaa was filled with enough gunshots to kill an army. At the very least, he should have been knocked back from the sheer force of the rounds. Agent Hernandez was on the verge of shouting another order when Nymaa spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He stumbled to the desk, letting his blood spill onto the dismembered corpse. The he fell face down on the thin carpet with a hard thump. The Texas officers all celebrated. Nymaa and his last terror cell had been eliminated.

That’s it. Agent Hernandez said, still stunned.

Agent Hernandez stepped over to Nymaa’s body. He nudged Nymaa’s limp head with his boot. He was most certainly dead. Unbeknownst to anyone, the slain woman in the corner still held the camera that was recording.

Hernandez kneeled down by Nymaa’s body and put his mouth beside Nymaa’s ear. He wanted to be sure that even though Nymaa’s body was destroyed, his soul would hear what he had to say.

I hope you never rest in peace.

Chapter 1

Gym Rats

I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Over 300 confirmed kills, at least 20 of which are hand-to-hand. I’ve burned down three buildings and stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars of property. Yes I am black, but no, I’m not a criminal. I’m a survivalist. What I’m surviving is far more than a zombie apocalypse. It’s a curse that consumed the world.

Contrary to what you think, fighting zombies are not at all like fighting in a war. These creatures are more than just the walking dead. There are monsters besides zombies, and they are far more dangerous. The world may have devolved with a dark, paranormal curse; but this nation still belongs to humanity.

You may have heard other stories of zombie survival, but they are nothing like mine. Surviving isn’t just fighting the darkness on the streets. Surviving is fighting the darkness within ourselves and the darkness of humanity.

Which brings me to Sadine Yilmaz. Her coal black eyes only shined a brilliant green for me. She