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  THE PLAGUE – RISE OF THE DEAD

  ©2017 Emir Skalonja

  First Edition

  All rights reserved

  Edited by Jeffrey Kosh

  Cover art by Jeffrey Kosh Graphics

  Published by FoxTrot Productions

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

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  ISBN-10: 1976361338

  ISBN-13: 978-1976361333

  Dedication

  To my mother.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This was definitely an interesting project; a novelization of my zombie film of the same name. When I was making the film, as an indie/low budget filmmaker, I felt constrained by the budget. If I had a six-figure budget, I would have made a film that I wrote in this novel. But that was one of the reasons I loved writing this book. It was very liberating to put my entire vision on paper and see it play out the way it was supposed to initially.

  But it also gave me an opportunity to explore further our political and social strife here in the United States of America. During the making of the film, we were only a month a half from our election of Donald Trump and even though I have commented on it in the film, I explored it further in this book. I sit here now, writing this, and think how the story would have turned out if I made the film post-election. It is not a secret that the Republicans don’t care much about the environment and will do everything in their power to cut and defund the programs that are there in place to safeguard our surroundings.

  The story of The Plague is that one of caution since, after all, it is a tale of a man-made disaster that resulted in numerous ailments and deaths in the 1970s and 1980s in Love Canal, Niagara Falls, NY. It was an issue that does not call on Democrats or Republicans but on all of us as people, to come together and protect the Earth as it is meant to be protected…that is, if we want to survive the next fifty years.

  It was a long and arduous process writing this piece but after all, it was well worth it.

  As always, I want to thank those who have stuck by my side (during my tantrums and binge alcohol drinking in the most heated moments of the novel). I have to thank my wife for always pushing me forward and never letting me give up.

  Also, a big thank you goes out to Jeffrey Kosh, a mentor and a friend and above all, a fellow A.S. Roma supporter.

  Thank you to all the bands and musicians who have inspired me with their songs and lyrics that constantly give me the drive to plough through the filth of life and come out victorious.

  Sit back and enjoy this tale of carnage, the flesh eating corpses and above all, caution.

  Emir Skalonja

  Buffalo, NY 2017

  TABLE OF CONTENT

  Dedication

  AcknowledgEmentS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AUTHOR’S BIO

  THE PLAGUE

  RISE OF THE DEAD

  A Novel by

  EMIR SKALONJA

  FOXTROT PRODUCTIONS

  *2017*

  PROLOGUE

  Love Canal, a tiny neighborhood in Niagara Falls, was envisioned to be a dream community; a model neighborhood to satisfy a large influx of people into the western part of the state of New York.

  William T. Love, an entrepreneur from the Western Railroad Corporation, had a dream of a perfect community that in 1890 came to fruition when a small canal was dug to connect the Upper and Lower Niagara Rivers for a faster transport of electricity. Fueling this idyllic dream of convenience and economic growth were numbers of investors, both local and international. Several families had moved into the area with brand new homes that were built just for them to provide for a bright new life and future.

  The canal served as a great source of fun for the children that swam there in the summer and skated in the winter. One would think that a piece of Heaven was created here on Earth and it was in Love Canal of all places. It was as though it served as a haven, a return to normalcy in America during the booming economy and an increasing pace of life that saw people move about in pursuit of financial gain.

  But the grand vision of Love Canal came to an abrupt end in mid 1890s with Nicola Tesla’s breakthrough method of transferring electricity over great distances via alternating current. The economy didn’t help the case when most of the financial backers abandoned William T. Love’s project and left him to foreclose on the factories and the neighborhood altogether.

  Life came to a standstill until the first half of the 20th century, when The Hooker Chemical Company purchased the neighborhood to dump their chemical waste into. The canal that once served graced the area with its lush vegetation surrounding it, was drained and lined with clay, then filled with thousands of barrels of chemical and toxic waste. The Hooker Chemical Company finished disposing of their waste in 1952, then buried the dump in 1953 and sold it to the city for one dollar.

  How could anyone pass up on the sale of property for a measly one dollar? It didn’t matter to the city whether or not the site was a dumping ground of toxic waste, a dollar was just that: a good deal.

  In reality, it was a terrible one.

  By the end of the 1950s there were about one hundred homes built on the site. It was a tight knit, strong, working class community. It was an epitome of American middle class. Life was normal in this tiny enclave of Western New York, the way it was elsewhere in the country. There was nothing out of the ordinary on the surface of this neighborhood; tourists would pass by on their way to see the Niagara Falls and that was just about it. Somewhat quaint, and mostly quiet. When you did your best to listen very closely, you could hear the distant hum of the river a couple of miles to the west.

  On August 1st, 1978, an article came out in the New York Times and it read:

  NIAGAR FALLS, NY--Twenty-five years after the Hooker Chemical Company stopped using the Love Canal here as an industrial dump, 82 different compounds, 11 of them suspected carcinogens, have been percolating upward through the soil, their drum containers rotting and leaching their contents into the backyards and basements of 100 homes and a public school built on the banks of the canal.

  The bombshell was dropped on the city when the first traces of contamination began to surface. Old, rusty and corroded barrels filled with chemical waste protruded through the ground in backyards and gardens. This hazardous and lethal material began to ooze through walls of bedrooms and basements, causing widespread panic of this once ordinary locale.

  Small puddles of chemicals formed all over the place, some in residences, others on school grounds.

  Soon followed reports of illnesses, all of them looking like precursors of leukemia. Niagara Falls hospitals were swarmed with hordes of people reporting numerous ailments and dozens of tests showed that the majority of people reported high white blood cell counts.

  In September of 1978, Tammy Watkins, a 4th grader, returned home with burns on her hands that she got while on the playground at recess. Her mother and father, along
with other concerned parents, stormed the Niagara Falls City Hall a mere day after the incident and found out that little Tammy wasn’t the only one who received these burns.

  The following year passed with tedious town hall meetings and court proceedings where angry citizens voiced their concerns and grievances while the city officials did next to nothing to tackle the disaster. Many demanded that The Hooker Chemical Company be held partially responsible, but there was no chance in Hell of that ever happening since in the sale agreement the company officials clearly stated they could not be held liable, after distinctly noting that the site was used as a dumping ground for chemical waste.

  The entire blame fell on the city and the mayor as the uneasy truth surfaced, much like the toxic waste did, and showed the city government under an ugly light.

  In the early morning of March 30th, 1980, Joni Carter found her ten-year-old son John washed over with sweat as he ran a fever of 103.8 degrees Fahrenheit. As the poor woman went through her old and nearly decrepit book of family medicine and applied the remedies her own mother did when she had been little John’s age, the boy’s fever lowered.

  Thinking somewhat clearly, she dialed the family doctor, Stephen Berkowitz, and requested a house call as her husband Kenny had taken their only car to work.

  Dr. Berkowitz came and was greeted by the pale, red - headed woman in disarray. She had been crying, her eyes puffy and blood shot. Her white shirt was soaked in sweat and what looked like spots of blood around her neck.

  “He’s dead, Stephen!” the frantic mother exclaimed at the door, snot running over her lips.

  “What?” the doctor said somewhat in disbelief.

  “He stopped breathing a minute or two ago!” She grabbed him by the hand and led him through the house and into John’s room, where the kid stared at the ceiling without blinking.

  Moments later, an ambulance arrived, followed by the loud roar of what sounded like a dump truck, but when teary eyed Joni peeked behind the curtains she saw three soldiers jump out of a military- looking like vehicle followed by two men in hazmat suits.

  At this point, the boy had vomited blood on Dr. Berkowitz, some of it getting into his eyes and onto his chapped lips.

  Joni heard the house door break down and the voices of soldiers, to her just a distant murmur, filled the lower floor. They rushed up the stairs, restrained the doctor first, and the two men in hazmat suits took the boy.

  One of the soldiers grabbed her and led her downstairs as she screamed for her son that should have been dead but was now wiggling in the arms of the man that was carrying him. She was loaded onto the truck along with Dr. Berkowitz, while the boy was put into a windowless black van just down the street.

  Shortly after the incident, the city hall was occupied in protests every single day of the week, until the federal government ordered the evacuation of the neighborhood, with the order that the houses be destroyed not only in Love Canal, but also blocks of them just outside the godforsaken community.

  Heated court dates ensued where the people demanded compensations for their homes and lost loved ones but were marred by several agencies that tried to cover up the incident and prove that there was no real negligence on the city’s part.

  Shortly thereafter, the government announced a Superfund Cleanup Program for the demolished neighborhood that was now entirely desolate.

  The cleanup was finished in 2004, however, a single, fenced off building remained operational for the duration of the undertaking to bring the area up its pre-contamination standards.

  The building stood right on the edge of what used to be Love Canal and the fence that enclosed what looked like government property was lined with NO TRESPASSING sings every hundred or so feet. Every now and then, a military truck would pull in and then leave half an hour later.

  As the truck drove off, the gates would scrape the pavement as it closed back up, and then dreadful silence would befall on the dead locale.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m so excited about this,” Jill said and giggled, still feeling the three glasses of Rumchata and Fireball. She leaned on the tree and smiled as she licked her lips. “It’s going to be crazy!”

  “I know, but you need to keep your cool, alright?” Jack said trying to calm her down, making sure she took her excitement down a notch.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m good, just excited is all. And man, wow, this Cinnamon Toast Crunch thing you had me try!” She squealed and patted her thighs. “It’s like the drink of the Gods, I’m telling you. Maybe we could make this a ritual, you know: have a glass or two before we get down to business. You know what I’m saying?”

  “I do,” Jack said with a smile on his face and shook his head as if she were some child he just couldn’t get mad at or continue the argument with. “I can’t believe you’ve never had it before.”

  “Well, believe it.”

  “Alright, but in all seriousness, you need to relax, it’s almost time.”

  “Fine. Alright, I’m good, I promise.” Jill took a deep breath, her large breasts expanding in her tight black shirt and she knew that girls caught Jack’s attention. They always did. “See, I’m fine now, ready to be a good girl.”

  “Are ya sure?”

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “Here you go then, I want to see how you handle it on your own.” He handed her a gun and crossed his arms. “Well?”

  “You know what I was thinking?” she asked, and her face lit up once again. Her short bleached blonde hair glistened in the afternoon sun.

  “What’s that?”

  “I was thinking of how to hold it, you know, when I’m shooting. Maybe I can hold it sideways, just like in the movies. Whaddya think?” She held the gun out and turned it down, pointing it at Jack’s face. There she saw his disapproving gaze and a sarcastic grin that showed through his thick, lumberjack beard.

  “I’m going to say it’s a little—”

  “—thuggish?” she cut in before he could finish.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Now, c’mon, just hold it properly, like a normal person. Point it straight, like everyone does and let that be it.”

  “Right, right, I’m sorry,” she said in an apologetic tone, stepped in front of her boyfriend and pointed the gun at the woods.

  “Now,” Jack said and grabbed her hips and tilted them a little. “Make sure you’re squared, legs apart, you don’t want that recoil to get ya.” He then moved his arms over her sides and stopped on her biceps. Then he moved them to her elbows. “See, all good now. So, go ahead and squeeze, just pull the trigger.”

  Without any further hesitation, Jill squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot. It echoed through the woods and made her all jittery again. She shook in excitement like a little kid. Was it still the sweet taste of alcohol lingering in her mouth or was it the idea that she was about to lead the hit this time around? Perhaps it was the smell of the spent casing that flew through the air and hit the ground covered in crunchy leaves. The smell lingered there for a moment and she took a long and deep breath to take it all in.

  “That’s good. You’re strong. Now do it again.”

  She loved it when Jack told her she did a good job. It filled her body with this exceptionally warm feeling, she nearly felt butterflies in her stomach. She then fired off three more shots, each one of them hitting the tree about a hundred or so feet away from her.

  “That was awesome,” Jill said, then she turned and handed the gun over to Jack. When he holstered it in his pants at his lower back, she jumped on him and started to kiss him passionately. “God, I love you so much!” she mumbled as her tongue went into his mouth and he took it greedily.

  They kissed for a while; she wrapped her legs around him and they swayed back and forth as the leaves crunched under Jack’s feet.

  She then pulled away and jumped back down, fixing her denim skirt that almost ended up at her waistline when she jumped up on her boyfriend. All this excitement got her in the mood to continue the kissing and move
the passion elsewhere. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had sex in the back seat of their car at least a dozen times. But she wanted Jack to see her take the lead on this one and wanted to show him that she was capable of doing it. Business was business and there was no time for goofing around, as the time was drawing near and if they didn’t get going the hit would be a bust.

  “We should probably get going,” Jack said as he looked at the little trail that led to their car.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Let’s go then, six will be here before you even know it. I can almost imagine what the traffic is like right about now. I don’t want to lose him before we can put a bullet in him.” Jack started walking and she followed him. He was much taller than her and she looked like a little kid as he took his long strides.

  “You know, using the gun is fine and all, but to be honest, I prefer the knife,” Jill said as she finally managed to match Jack’s pace of long footsteps.

  “I understand, but a bullet will do hell of a faster and better job than a blade. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘don’t bring a knife to a gunfight’?”

  “I have,” she said in a joking tone, making a face at him. “But the blade is great, if you know how to use it, that is.” She said this last bit and winked at him, something he completely missed as he stared at the ground before him.

  “Right. Then I hope you know how to dodge bullets.”

  She laughed. “No one can do that silly. Only Keanu Reeves can, but that’s him.”

  “Ha…ha, very funny. You’ll see when you put a cap in his ass tonight, what I mean. There’s this feeling you get when you know you squeezed that trigger once and that’s all it took for your enemy to go down. Only once. One bullet and the job is done, how about that?”

  “I’ll take your word for it but if it’s not all that’s cracked up to be, I’m going back to the knife.”