Hunger: Last Man Standing Book 1

Bangkok, March 2018. The world looked on as millions of innocent lives were snuffed out in a matter of hours. Millions of men, women and children slaughtered without mercy, killed by a violent mob that attacked without reason, motive or warning. Tom Freeman saw the aftermath. He reported on the tragedy and looked into the eyes of the sole survivor, and what he saw looking back sent him running home to the United States. Back to safety. Back to a place where the world makes sense, and the putrid stink of the dead doesn't haunt his nightmares. He didn't run quickly enough. They're coming. Remain indoors... Gather supplies... Find a weapon... They're here. HUNGER is the opening book of the terrifying post-apocalyptic Last Man Standing series.

"Oh, not another damned zombie apocalypse book!"

Hush now, dear reader. The highbrow literary fiction is just a click away. I'm sure there's something to suit your more refined tastes elsewhere on these groaning shelves. As for the rest of you, those who enjoy a good flesh-tearing, bone-chilling tale of the zombie apocalypse, come with me...

Like you I've always been fascinated by the idea of zombies. More than any other, perhaps more realistic apocalyptic threat - nuclear war, EMP attacks, meteors screaming toward us from the outer reaches of the solar system - the humble zombie has always had the power to trigger an indescribable bone deep terror in me. This despite the fact that they don't exist, while nuclear weapons and enormous hunks of rock hurtling through space and are a matter of fact and a constant, genuine threat.

For me the terror was incubated from an early age, watching classic zombie movies like Dawn of the Dead on the black and white TV in my room while my parents slept, and then later discovering novels like Matheson's I Am Legend, but it wasn't until I reached adulthood that the fear really took hold. That's when I stumbled on Max Brooks' World War Z, when as an adult I finally understood why the idea of zombies scared me so much.

It wasn't that they tear flesh from bone - vicious, untrained dogs do that, and I'll still cheerfully approach any dog that comes within petting distance, no matter how much it seems to be foaming at the mouth. No, it was that zombies devour humanity itself. They tear society apart in their hunger. They render useless all the little rules that keep us from devolving into anarchy. That's a terrifying thought for all but the most committed prepper, and I don't even have enough coffee to make it through the day.

This is what made writing HUNGER so much fun. My characters aren't preppers. They're not hardened ex-military types who've trained for years to survive on squirrel, make fire from ice and use leaves for toilet paper. They're just regular people: unprepared, scared and confused as they watch the comfortable world they know collapse around them. Most of us, I think, can relate to that, because when the zombies come crashing through our door almost none of us will be holding nail-studded baseball bats, ready to kick ass and take names.

We'll be holding our children.

And we'll be terrified.