This RottenWorld By Jacy Morris Text Copyright ©Jacy Morris 2014 All Rights Reserved Also Available from JacyMorris Fiction: The Abbey The Children of Hamelin (Coming Soon) The Enemies of Our Ancestors (as The Vocabulariast) This Rotten World This Rotten World: Let It Burn Unmade: A Neo-Nihilist Vampire Tale (as TheVocabulariast) Non-Fiction: Let's Get Drunk and Watch Horror Movies: 50 HorrorMovie Reviews and Drinking Games (As The Vocabulariast) Let's Get Drunk and Watch Horror Movies: Volume 2(As The Vocabulariast) Music: All Hell Breaks Loose Soundtrack with Jeremy Brown(Available on iTunes) Movies: All Hell Breaks Loose (Available from Wild EyeReleasing on DVD) The Cemetery People (Coming Soon) Spec. Scripts: Find my work on Inktip.com (email me [email protected] to find out how) Table ofContents AlsoAvailable from Jacy Morris Prologue Chapter 1:Zeke Chapter 2:Mort Chapter 3:Rudy Chapter 4:Teach Chapter 5:Joan Chapter 6:Clara Chapter 7:Through a Garden Hose Chapter 8:Nightsticks Chapter 9:Dustin and Bill Chapter 10:Code Red and Endcaps Chapter 11:The Munchies Chapter 12:Haldol and Bite Wounds Chapter 13:Use Your Head Chapter 14:Speakerphones and 12-Gauge Shotgun Shells Chapter 16:A Total Lack of Trumpets Chapter 17:From Worse to Worser Chapter 18:Pop-Tarts and Paint Thinner, the Breakfast of Champions Chapter 19: Icemanand Busy Signals Chapter 20:Never Too Late Chapter 21:Katie Bar the Door Chapter 22:Making Stories Chapter 23:Check-In Time Chapter 24:Roasted Goat Chapter 25:Ace is Number 1 Chapter 26:The Shopping Cart of Salvation Chapter 27:The Mortician Chapter 28:A Message to You Rudy Chapter 29:Fixed-Gear Only Chapter 30:Molly Chapter 31:Observation Chapter 32:Boot Camp Chapter 33:The Last Tear Chapter 34:Quarantined Chapter 35:The Long Way Home Chapter 36:This Old Cell Chapter 37:Hot Chops Chapter 38:Hey, Neighbor Chapter 39:As Day Breaks Chapter 40:On the Road Chapter 41:The New Katie Chapter 42:Friends and Murder Chapter 43:Til Death Do Us Part Chapter 44:Swords and Flames Chapter 45:To Sleep or Not to Sleep Chapter 46:Becoming Chaos Chapter 47:I'd Like to Make a Collect Call to Armageddon Chapter 48:Move Over Rover, the Army is Taking Over Prologue BOOK 2: WE ALL FALLDOWN Chapter 1:The Dinner Bell Chapter 2:Self-Service Chapter 3:Pretty Big Balls Chapter 4:Those Things'll Kill Ya Chapter 5: ANumbers Game Chapter 6:Getting Wheels Chapter 7:Fortified Chapter 8:Boardman, Oregon Chapter 9:Rescue Chapter 10:Safe Chapter 11:Riverside Chapter 12:Two to Drop Off Chapter 13:The Dumpster of Salvation Chapter 14:A New Band Chapter 15:Digging In Chapter 16:Watching the Gauges Chapter 17:In the Coliseum Chapter 18:Ginger Fluff Chapter 19:Dinnertime Chapter 20:Polite Conversation Chapter 21:When is Check Out Time? Chapter 22:The Last Show on Earth Chapter 23:Droppin' Like Flies Chapter 24:Barbarians at the Gate Chapter 25:Take Two of These and Call Me in the Morning Chapter 26:Killing Time Chapter 27:Room #27 Chapter 28:Shit Buddies Chapter 29:On Notice Chapter 30:In the Booth Chapter 31:On the Fence Chapter 32:Wanted Chapter 33:The Pied Piper of Portland Chapter 34:Saint Bryant Chapter 35:Into the Night Chapter 36:Not Enough Beer to Go Around Chapter 37:The Third Time is the Charm Chapter 38:We All Fall Down ABOUT THEAUTHOR Prologue In the future: The sun beatdown upon him. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face. One ran down theside of his nose and perched on the edge of his upper lip. He blew the bead ofsweat into the air and grunted as he pulled on the coarse rope. His hands, nowcallused and blistered after days on the roof, lumbered with roboticautomaticity. His mindwandered as his body engaged in actions that had essentially become secondnature. He pulled on the rope some more. In the back of his mind, he registeredthe coarseness of the rope on the exposed parts of his hands. He had wrappedsome shreds of an old shirt around his hands a few days ago, when he firstbegan his work. His shoulderswere red from exposure to the sun. In the past, he would have worried aboutincreasing his risk for melanoma, but not anymore. Now it was perfectly fine tosmoke, drink, and sit in the sun for hours upon hours. Hand over hand, hehauled on the rope, leaving bits of skin and blood behind on the frayed, hempenstrands. Finally, he hauled his prize up onto the roof, a heavy, blue bowlingball with a metallic finish, swirls upon swirls playing on its surface. Itlooked like a small planet sans continents. The sun lit every metallic piece ofglitter embedded in its plastic. The bowling ball rested in a cradle that hehad fashioned out of rope. Crimson drops of gore dripped from the bowling ballonto the loose pebbles that covered the roof of the gas station. He looked offinto the distance, wiping the sweat from his brow. His arm dropped to his side,and the sweat that he had wiped off ran down his fingers and dripped onto theroof. He flexed his aching fingers and looked at the yellow and red gas stationsign. $4.19 for a gallon of gas. He had a feeling that it was actually worth alittle more these days. The man pulled acigarette from a bag that sat on the ground next to a shiny, silver airconditioning vent. He lit the cigarette, looking at the naked lady lighter hehad pulled from a house two weeks past. He wondered if he would ever see anaked lady again, a living one at least. He dropped tothe ground and leaned his back against the air conditioning vent. The heat ofthe flimsy metal burned his skin, but he no longer cared. He took a deep dragoff of the cigarette, enjoying the burn of the smoke as it curled its way intohis lungs. He looked up at the azure sky, wishing for rain. Hell, a cloud woulddo just fine... anything for a brief respite from the relentless sun. There wasonly one thin wisp of a cloud floating through the sky, a mocking wisp with ashape like nothing. He took another drag from his cigarette, and closed hiseyes. He awoke to thepain of burning on his fingers. The man tossed the cigarette across the roofand looked at his ruined digits. Red blisters and pain, exactly what heneeded... more blisters and pain. He stood up, shaking off the soreness thathad seeped in unbidden during his brief respite. The man pickedup the bowling ball by the rope and dangled it out over the side of the gasstation roof. He peeked over the edge, already prepared for what he was aboutto see. Rotten faces peered up at him, scraps of flesh hanging off of theircheeks, their arms raised up to him as if they were at a concert and he was theobject of their affection. But that's not how it was... he was just a meal,standing on the roof of a gas station, holding a bowling ball tied up in arope. He swung the ball in an arc, releasing it at an angle that sent ithurtling straight down. He watched itfall, tracking its
