Zombie Castle (Book 1) Read Online Free

to identify and move towards a food source. The virus inside him could no longer be spread by coughing and sneezing, and now passed through to the final stage of its transformation. From now on, in order to be transmitted to another host, it would require contact with a different bodily fluid.
    Their blood.
    A few moments later, what was left of Vladimir’s brain began to function again. Had he possessed the ability to understand language, he would have heard the paramedic saying, ‘He’s coming round, support his head.’
    All his brain registered was noise.
    His empty stomach transmitted an overwhelming sensation of hunger to his brain.
    His eyes opened. He could see but he couldn’t recognise individuals or objects. His brain was now at its most basic and primal stage of evolution. It was only capable of distinguishing between what was a food source and what was not.
    The paramedic leant in closer to examine him. Vladimir emitted a low noise, part groan, part growl, grabbed the unfortunate paramedic by the head and bit deeply into his neck. The urge to feed was overpowering.
    Pandemonium broke out.
    It was Zombie Apocalypse Day One.
    Before too long thousands of people would be starting to sneeze and the same thought would be running through their minds: Oh no, I think I’ve caught a cold!

CHAPTER SIX
    It was a perfect day on Chapel Porth beach. The light breeze felt pleasantly warm in the hot sun and the waves were just the right size for Stanley and Daisy to enjoy bodyboarding without worrying us. I’d spent the last few hours in the surf with them, but now deemed them competent enough to be allowed a bit of freedom so I returned to Becky, who was sunning herself on a rug on the warm sand.
    Ok, I’ll admit that the thought of the nice cold beer I had in the cool box had tempted me out of the water. I made sure she was awake by placing my ice cold can of lager on her bare back as I sat down next to her. She screamed and jumped up, ready to fight whoever had dared to wake her up. After I’d defended myself from a few playful slaps, she eventually calmed down and saw the funny side. She grabbed a drink out of the cool box and sat next to me, so that we could chat and keep an eye on the kids.
    My name is Tom and I live in Moseley, a suburb of Birmingham, with my wife Becky, and my two kids, Stanley and Daisy. We were spending a few weeks of the children’s school holidays visiting the beauty spots of Cornwall in our touring caravan. The usually fickle and unpredictable British weather had been kind to us, and we’d spent the previous week on Cornwall’s beautiful southern coast, pottering around on boats, fishing (unsuccessfully) and visiting the many pretty villages the region is known for, before moving on to the more rugged northern coast, better known for surfing and tin mines.
    It was turning out to be a memorable holiday. The kids were having a great time and hadn’t yet reached that bored stage where they were likely to start bickering and falling out. The weather was great and we were all sporting golden tans from being out in the sun all day long. Becky and I were happy because the area was full of great places to eat, which saved all the rigmarole of cooking and cleaning that can sometimes take the edge off a holiday.
    What could be better than having a lovely meal, returning to the campsite, and sharing a bottle (or two) of wine, while the children played with their new found friends? Most evenings were spent reading, watching the sun go down and gazing out at the Wheal Coates tin mine, starkly beautiful in the fading light.
    The clamour of children’s voices disturbed my peace and I looked up from my Kindle to see Stanley, Daisy and a group of their friends approaching. I remembered that I’d promised them all an ice cream. It looked as if they were coming to collect.
    ‘I’ll go and get them,’ I said, grinning at Becky, and stood up to get the box of ice creams out of the freezer in the