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Today I’m lucky to feature K. Reed for a guest post on surviving a zombie apocalypse. Obviously I had to call in an expert since my zombie-surviving plan is to die my hair platinum blonde. So after you finish packing those AK-47s and building a bomb shelter, be sure to check out K. Reed‘s new post-apocalyptic regency romance, Dark Inheritance and enter the GIVEAWAY for an e-book copy.
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How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse. Or why I’d either be the first to die or that person you seek out for refuge.
by K.Reed

Let’s face it. Surviving an apocalypse (environmental, zombie, vampire, Cylon, whatever) isn’t exactly easy. No one is ever ready for The End. We go through our lives expecting tomorrow to be much the same as today. The recent power outage on the East Coast USA is a prime example. I was one of the many without power, people I work with still don’t have power.

We don’t like surviving without our comforts. Sure, we can say how prepared we are, but give people a weekend without TV, Internet, or lights, and see what happens! Let’s not even go to showers, hot water, flushing toilets, and coffee.


Here’s the scenario: You wake up one day and chaos reigns. The news is spotty and there are reports of world-wide catastrophes; insanity runs amok; you may or may not have electricity & flushing toilets, but how long will that last? Traffic is stacked up, gas stations are empty, and you meant to hit the grocery store 2 days ago but…

What’s next? I’ll give you a moment to panic.

What do you do first?

First, you should already have an emergency bag packed. Naturally you don’t, who really keeps that handy? You also probably don’t have a hunting knife or 2, extra water, food, and medical supplies.

So, like the rest of us, you’re screwed. Yup.

And now your question is why I think I’ll either be the first to die or I’ll have that refuge you desperately need.

First to die: Not prepared. I’m not either. I also have a dismal sense of direction, I wouldn’t know how to cook over a fire, assuming I could get it going, I can’t identify poisonous plants from non-poisonous ones, and frankly would I even want to survive if the rest of my family did not?

I live between Boston and DC on America’s east coast which is very heavily populated and the idea of all of us getting inland is laughable. If a zombie, vampire, tsunami, or Cylon attack occurred, I’m doomed.

Refuge: On the other hand, I’m also paranoid. And, despite the above paragraph, I wouldn’t wait around for the word to get with the program; I’d get the hell out of Dodge and leave the rest for the taking. Despite my lack of plant knowledge, I do know how to filter water, if hungry enough I hope I’d eat anything, and after this blog I might just start stockpiling batteries, a battery-operated radio, water, and non-perishable foods!

My plan would be to go north west, the higher in the mountains the better, bundle up and see what happens. I’d take the puppy, of course, find the family, and head out.

Actually, now that I’m looking at this, I think my chances are far higher for A than B. I’m so not prepared.

But what if it’s a plague that sweeps through the country? What if I survive that? Then what? Do I band together with other survivors and see what happens? Or do I take the lead and form a community where others have safe harbor?

That’s exactly what Grayson, Baron Harwich, did in 1804 when a mysterious plague swept England, killing 60% or more of the population. He made sure those he was responsible for, and those seeking refuge, had a place where they could survive. When he finds Juliette, another survivor, it seems he’s found his match. But not all is as it seems, and both Grayson and Juliette have their secrets.

I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of Dark Inheritance: Fallen Empire to the most honest person: Who’s really prepared for a post-apocalypse world? E-mail your answers to K.Reed for a chance to win an ebook copy of Dark Inheritance!


Where to find Dark Inheritance: Fallen Empire:
All Romance
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Print

Excerpt:

Who was left? Who had attended Bulger and his wife? Who had barricaded the front doors?

At the end of the hallway stood a pair of double doors, leading, Grayson assumed, to Bulger’s suite. It would be just like his former colonel to hide weapons, powder, and shot in his private chambers, especially once word of the riots reached the old man.

The first thing that struck him, when he opened the doors, was the heavier stench of death. Through a hazy sliver of sunlight that drifted through crooked curtains, he saw a man’s body on the bed. Grayson hesitated for a moment on the threshold.

Veering toward the windows, he yanked open the curtains hanging precariously on their rods. Weak afternoon sunlight lighted the room, angling across the bed. Grayson checked the man, but he was dead and recently. The body, swollen from the plague, had not yet begun to decay. A gentleman, by the looks of his clothing.

A relation of Bulger? As far as Grayson knew, the colonel had no sons, only two daughters also married to career army.

He didn’t know what made him look, what sound captured his attention, but he suddenly knew he was not alone. Cursing his carelessness, he drew his sword and looked around. There, on the opposite side of the bed, pushed against the wall.

She lay on a settee, head resting on one arm, dark hair falling down the side of the sofa. He glanced to the bed, to the man there, and wondered who the dead pair were. She looked to have survived the plague; her face and neck were thin and smooth. Died of neglect, then. The last living being in the house and she couldn’t summon the strength to feed herself.

His eyes locked on the rifle lying just under her reach. Sheathing his sword, it was then he noticed that powder marks blackened her hands and were smudged along her face and neck. He quickly scanned the area, a small bag of powder and a case of shot rested on a nearby chair.

Cautiously walking closer, Grayson crouched before the prone figure and surprised himself by reaching out to touch her. He stopped just short of her cheek, curling his fingers into a fist. He took a brief moment to admire her beauty.
Even in death, she captivated.

Standing, he picked up the rifle and backed away, turning to search the rest of the room before he’d take the powder and shot.

That was when he heard her moan.

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