Euphoria-Z
Book
1
Luke
Ahearn
Welcome
to IAB. I'm so glad you could stop in today to chat. May I offer you
a beverage?
Although
I wrote a zombie novel, I think I will have a Witches Brew; it sounds
like the kind of drink that will sharpen my otherworldly senses and
heighten my magical abilities. The Vampire Wine sounds too
hoity-toity. The Zombie Blast sounds like it will depress me and make
me sleep for days. The Magic Margarita sounds like a sugary novelty
drink that will stain my tongue and make me do embarrassing things,
after which I’ll wake up with a terrible hangover.
Now
that we are settled in, let's get to know you better.
BK:
Looking out the nearest window, describe the scene you see.
Like
in the book, I am on the top of a hill and 900 feet above sea level.
I am facing north and my street slopes steeply down to where I can
see the coastal part of the city of Monterey and the bay itself. On
the horizon are the mountains of inland California. It is a beautiful
day here.
BK:
Tell us about your office. Is it a mess like mine, or is everything
in its place?
I
don’t have an office. I did for a long time, but I ditched it when
I realized I was effectively working in a storage room. I didn’t
need any of the crap that was around me within arm’s reach. I then
packed all my files and some software into a filing cabinet and moved
it into my wife’s office. I have a laptop, iPad, and iPhone so I
can work when and where I want to. I usually work at a Starbucks or
at one of many locations around my house.
BK:
What is a must-have, such as coffee or a favorite pen, that you need
to write?
Coffee!
BK:
Do you like to write in silence, or do you need music or background
noise?
Doesn’t
matter. Silence, if I had to choose one.
BK:
Tell us a bit about your hero/heroine, and their development.
I
based the hero in the book, Cooper, on my son. Personally, it was
great because I missed him (he went off to college) and it was a way
of being with him. A few years earlier, my daughter had also gone off
to college and I wasn’t prepared for it. I didn’t want to repeat
that process again when my son left. It was great to have a hero that
was young, very capable, but not yet worldly and 100% confident in
all matters.
Now,
the downsides of using my son as a main character were many. I am
still glad that I did, but it created challenges for me I didn’t
see when going in. First off, if you must know anything about me,
it’s that I believe in being true to a character. A character has
to act on their sense of right and wrong, their fears, and their
values, etc. A pet peeve of mine is when a character is clearly the
author’s puppet. So when it came to writing my son and not a
fictional character, I immediately felt restricted. Instead of being
in my character’s head, I found myself not wanting to think for my
son and wondering what his reaction would be to what I had him doing
in the book. Usually, worrying about what someone else might think is
the last thing I do when writing.
When
I finished the first draft and sent it to a beta reader and she’d
read the first several chapters of the book, her first comment was
that it seemed like the main character was just taking a stroll
through the apocalypse. It was amusing and embarrassing because I
didn’t see it. I was protecting my son in the fiction and I was
blind to it. So I just deleted the first four chapters. I went
through a mental process for a few hours (I think you call it
daydreaming), where I changed the main character in the book from my
son to a fictional kid very much like him. When I sat down to write
the new chapters with the new character, it was easy and exciting. I
could get absorbed; the writing flowed. In hindsight, I was also
blind to the warning signs that something just wasn’t right. Those
first chapters were much more of an effort to write and nothing
happened in them. I also felt something nagging me the entire time I
was writing. I knew subconsciously that the writing was flawed, or
weak, but I just worked harder when I should have worked smarter.
Thank God for beta readers.
It
was also a challenge to not write about all the great things the main
character learned from his parents, how awesome they were, and that
his only regret in life was not listing to them more.
BK:
As a writer myself, I'm always curious how other writers get through
stumble blocks. When you find a story not flowing, or a character
trying to fight you, how do you correct it?
I’m
not sure what you mean, but I don’t believe the character fights
the writer; it’s the other way around. I think letting a character
be true to himself is what stumps a writer. It’s hard to let a mean
character be mean if you are a nice person. It’s hard to accept
when you need to rewrite a scene or setting because the character
could easily foil you and defeat the conflict you laid before them.
Characters are our pet rats and they will run like rats through the
maze we create. If you leave a wall off the maze, the rat isn’t
going to ignore that (without good reason), and the rat will be
scurrying away faster than you can imagine.
If
the story isn’t flowing for me, it is almost always a simple matter
of not having motivating and immediate goals for a character—like
getting to or away from something, overcoming something, or solving
something. Just throw cruel crap at your characters; it’s your job.
They may hate you in the short term, but they will thank you in the
long run. You are their author, not their friend. Man, I wish I would
have used that on my kids.
BK:
Using the letters of your first name as an acronym, describe your
book...
How
fun! Lunatics Unleash Killer Epidemic.
BK:
How did your writing journey begin?
When
I was ten, I knew I wanted to be a writer after reading The
Hobbit.
Since then, I’ve written a bunch of fiction and never seriously
tried to publish it. I started writing nonfiction about ten years
ago. I learned a lot about writing by doing nonfiction, even though
they are so different in many ways. Finally, I am ready to give my
fiction the time and attention it deserves.
BK:
Using the letters from the word, Summer, how would friends and family
describe you?
Silly
Unfiltered Merry Making Extroverted Recluse.
BK:
What is the craziest thing you've ever written about, whether it got
published or not?
I
started work on a novel I didn’t think I could pull off because it
is set in Victorian England. I don’t know enough about everyday
life and the history of the time, so I would either have to do a ton
of research or the writing would be so riddled with errors, it would
detract from the story.
It
was a weird tale about a group of various people, all down on their
luck, more so than the average Victorian Londoner. These people are
all empty and dead inside, some waiting to die, some contemplating
suicide, some just shut down mentally and emotionally. They were also
very parochial, there were many things they hadn’t done and places
they hadn’t been in life. They are all brought together one by one
by a young man known only as Joe. He brings the ten of them to a
large courtyard behind a block of abandoned houses and explains his
vision, a magical place for them all to live. He leads them in a
massive cleanup of the courtyard and they start bringing in furniture
and organizing things, tents and lean-tos where they can live. Soon,
they are living an amazing life together in this camp. They are all
quickly getting healthy and happy as Joe implements certain
practices, normal things like eating well, practicing hygiene, and
talking as a community. But the good escalates, and they are going
from drinking wine and kicking off their shoes to drunkenness and
nudity, and finally to orgies. They are getting noticed by the
neighbors who either want to get in or want them jailed or driven
away. The authorities want to shut them down, too.
One
evening, one of the residences of the court murders a cop and brings
the body to the court. Everyone is a bit shocked, but they all see
the greater good of it and they dispose of the body by chucking it
down a large sewer hole in the middle of the courtyard. They end up
murdering more local police and several of the more vocal residents.
Eventually, they are short on food and after having a lengthy
discussion, decide to eat a victim. They become feared by the locals
and start pulling off various crimes around the city, committing
gruesome murders and acts of destruction. Joe didn’t manipulate
them to do these things, but something surrounding life on the court
is responsible for what is going on. There is a long, slow build from
powerless people to a group of feared criminals who have convinced
themselves that they really are doing good works. It is eventually
discovered who the owners of the abandoned block of houses was, which
has something to do with the effect the court has on the residents.
That’s as far as I got.
BK:
Tell us one thing you've done in life, that readers would be most
surprised to know.
Probably
how straight-laced I am. Despite the things I can read, watch,
discuss, and write about, I am a nice guy. I can write about a serial
killer, but I don’t like them or relate to them. I think they are
nothing more than severely damaged people that do terrible things and
need to be stopped. It bothers me when someone assumes that I think
serial killers are just swell, but it makes me angry when I am
approached by a sicko who looks up to these abominations with the
assumption that I do, too.
BK:
What can we expect from you in the future?
The
sequel to Euphoria-Z
is in the works. I have a thriller coming out and a sword and sorcery
novella as well.
This
or That...
Coke
or Pepsi? Coke.
Night
Owl or Early Bird? Night Owl, for sure!
Fantasy
or Mystery? Uh…pass.
Pen/Paper
or Computer? Computer.
Pizza
or Burger? Burger.
Rock
or Country? Rock.
Chocolate
or Vanilla? Vanilla (I get the chocolate hangover).
Beach
or Mountains? Beach, if I have to choose.
Thank
you so much for having us as one of your stops today. It has been
great getting to know more about you and your book, and hope you will
come back when the next release is out (*hinthint*)
Wishing
you much success!
BK
Walker
Genre:
Thriller/Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher:
Luke Ahearn
Date
of Publication: May 19, 2014
ISBN-13:
978-1497497382
ISBN-10:
1497497388
Number
of pages: 409
Word
Count: 118,099
Cover
Artist: Steven J Catizone
Book
Description:
Civilization
shuts down as throngs of speechless hedonists fill the streets in
deadly revelry. They feel only pleasure and never pain, even as they
are injured, maimed, and mutilated. Few people remain in the world
unaffected, left to witness the madness unaware that things are about
to get unbelievably worse.
Cooper
is among the few survivors of a conspiracy to depopulate the world.
One week ago, college was his biggest concern. Now he is on a
dangerous journey to find his sister as an ever-present threat of
nightmarish proportions engulfs the world, throwing him in the path
of some of the most malicious people that ever walked the earth.
Excerpt:
The
present, Monterey, California
“Fuck!”
The wiry, gray-haired old man felt his eyes go wide with surprise,
but he quickly got his shit together. Jasper scowled; now he was very
pissed off. He might stoop and shuffle when he walked, but he didn’t
take any shit.
Some
big fat bastard was bear-hugging him from behind. He could see white
mountains of wet flab before his eyes, and he smelled vomit. He felt
a massive wet belly and man tits pressing against his back. Large
folds of cold wet flesh engulfed him, and he shuddered at the
sensation.
He
hated hugs, especially from men, and hugs from big fat sweaty
bastards were absolutely unacceptable. He carried his best spiked
hammer, an old-school Craftsman from back in the day, before the
gooks were making them. He was just itching to use it. The fat
bastard was yelling something in his ear.
“I
love you! I love you, man!”
“Ahhh,
geez!” Jasper twisted out of the flabby cocoon and took a few steps
back. What he saw disgusted him. It was a giant fat kid, a head
taller than himself, who looked like a giant baby, all hairless and
soft. The kid was smiling like an idiot, and that made Jasper even
more pissed off. Food smeared the kid’s face and ran down his chins
in greasy streams between his man tits and over his belly. All Jasper
could think was that all that shit was all over his back. Now he
would have to burn his shirt and take a long, hot shower.
The
kid wore nothing but baggy white underwear soaked in sweat. Jasper
shuddered at the clammy coldness on his back. His flannel shirt clung
to him and felt like a cold, wet bathing suit.
“I
love you, man!” The big fat kid smiled as he came at him for
another hug.
“Ahhhh!
Fuck you!” Despite his advanced age, Jasper moved with an
efficiency and force that spoke of his many years as a carpenter. He
brought the spiked hammer down on the kid’s skull, and it collapsed
inward with little resistance. He liked the sensation of cracking a
head but hated wasting the time to do it.
The
kid dropped to the concrete like a wet sack. He was still smiling,
which made cracking his skull less enjoyable. Jasper wished he could
bash every asshole around with his trusty hammer. He looked around to
make sure another shithead wasn’t looking for a hug.
A
woman came at him, hooting so loud he could hear it over the crowd,
waving her tits at him. He took her out too, with an easy smack
between the eyes. He had enough of this shit. He cracked a few more
skulls for fun, but he got bored. It was always the same: an easy tap
to the skull and the moron dropped, still smiling.
The
streets were crammed with people, and they were all acting crazy.
Jasper just wanted to get home. It seemed everyone was congregating
downtown, streaming in from the surrounding neighborhoods. People
were walking in large groups, arm in arm, naked and clothed, dancing,
running, and hugging. It all made Jasper sick, just god-awful sick.
He
tried to go all the way downtown and almost got caught up in the
crowd. People were pushing and jamming each other into doors until
they cracked open. He heard the crash of large plate-glass windows,
but no one reacted. In fact, he saw people just getting pushed
through the windows in a wave. He could tell that people were getting
seriously injured and killed, and he just wanted to get the hell out
of there.
He
left at the right time. The press of the massive crowd smashed and
suffocated, ground and trampled, and killed many—and the party
continued to grow. No one screamed in panic or pain. No one yelled
for help or dialed 911. And no one stopped to offer assistance, an
apology, or true human interaction of any kind. Everyone was bent on
doing exactly what they wanted to do, and what anyone else wanted
didn’t matter to them in the slightest.
In
any place where people gathered for a good time, the crowds were
thick. The mall was packed, but the hospital was empty. The wharf was
so full that hundreds fell into the icy waters of the bay. The office
parks and businesses were dark and silent. Some groups formed parties
on random streets for one reason or another.
A
large majority of the city was empty, devoid of people. Most left
their homes and walked away, leaving doors unlocked and often wide
open. They would join a group and wander away.
There
were still a few souls hiding indoors who were anything but euphoric.
They watched with fear and horror the goings-on outside their
windows. Jasper had been one of these, but he needed his goddamned
pills and had to drive through all this crazy shit to get them. Of
course, when he got to the damn pharmacy it was closed. He had tried
to call ahead, but no one answered the phone. He was pissed. He
wanted nothing to do with this crazy shit. He didn’t want to see
any of it and certainly didn’t want to walk through it. He saw
quite a few people doing things he had only seen in his buddies’
dirty magazines. But there was one thing every single person was
doing: smiling like a retard with a lollipop—every single one.
At
first, he thought all the outlandish behavior was confined to idiots,
kids, and queers. It had to be some new drug to get them this nuts,
he thought. But too many people were acting bonkers, too many people
who just didn’t fit the behavior.
He
walked as quickly as he was able away from the crowd and back to his
car. He’d seen some shit in his day, but in the last few the world
had descended into pandemonium. There were reports that almost
everyone around the world was walking away from their jobs, no matter
how critical. Everything was grinding to a halt. Transportation,
communication—private or military, trivial or critical—everything
was just going belly up. Jasper had known this day was coming ever
since the blacks were allowed to vote.
And
the crooks in Washington didn’t know anything. They said it was an
unknown virus and creatively named it Euphoria-Z. Z because they
didn’t know what it was, only what it did. And their advice? Stay
indoors and away from crowds, bunch of geniuses.
Jasper
had never expected he would need to kill people, not since the war,
but in the last few days he had been forced to. The streets were
crazy, and he wouldn’t even be outside if he hadn’t needed his
pills. He felt as if he were the only sane person for miles. He
looked at his feet and wondered, only briefly, if something were
wrong with him? No, couldn’t be, he thought. None of this was
right. The world had gone crazy.
About
the Author:
Luke
Ahearn has over 20 years of professional game development experience
and has authored numerous nonfiction books on the topic. He ran his
own computer game company for ten years and currently owns
MasterWerxStudios, an animatronic prop shop in Monterey, CA.
Tour
giveaway
4
life-sized, handmade, zombie heads.
One
of a kind and made by the author.
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