Randy Jackson's car has been stolen by a hot redhead, more guns pointed at his face than he can count, and zombies around every corner. Just when he's about to toss in the towel, a mysterious blonde saves him... but why?
The long-awaited sequel to "Highway To Hell" (which began the "Dying Days" zombie series) and sequel to "Dying Days: Origins" is upon us...
The zombie apocalypse is in full swing but sometimes your fellow survivors are more deadly than the undead.
Main Character's motivations
Randy's motivated by survival and not getting bitten by a zombie. He's a coward who tries to convince himself otherwise at times, but he's just not built to fight off a horde of zombies or other survivors.
What's Randy's secret strengths/ weaknesses
He's not as cowardly as he thinks he is. Despite his track record of sometimes getting the job done, he is very down on himself. But when push comes to shove he finds a small well of strength to overcome.
Any philosophical issues in this story? If so how do you address them, how does MC live and over come them?
The issue is who is worse: the zombies or the other survivors. Randy has to figure out in which world would he be safer: living on the streets with zombies or inside a compound with people who aren't the nicest people.
Any offbeat obscure or 80s references?
The main character's name is Randy Jackson, not named after the American Idol guy but the lead singer of Long Island rock band Zebra from the 1980's. I always sprinkle in pop references in most of my stories.
When did you start to write this one and why?
I started Highway To Hell 2 about six months ago. it had been over five years since the first one came out. I've been busy writing other books in this same world for my Dying Days series, but never got back to Randy's story until now.
Hell’s Bells: Highway To Hell 2
Chapter OneRandy Jackson didn’t know the make and model of the pistol aimed at his forehead and right now he didn’t care. His arms were growing tired from keeping them over his head. His shitty day was getting worse and worse.
“Where’d the woman go?” the dirty man holding the gun finally asked through rotting teeth. He was flanked by two men also threatening Randy with weapons. “The redhead. We saw her drive away in a car.”
“My car,” Randy said. “She stole it. She left me stranded.”
“Lover’s spat?” one of the men asked and all three laughed, but kept their guns aimed at Randy’s head.
“I didn’t really get to chat with her much. She jumped me and took my car. That’s about it,” Randy said.
“Bullshit. You’ve been with her for awhile and she fucked you out of your wheels. Isn’t that right?”
Randy sighed and put his arms down. If they were going to kill him they’d do it regardless of where his hands were. “Not even close.”
“I’m listening,” the leader said.
“I drove into town and when I stopped the woman carjacked me. I barely saw her but I’m guessing there aren’t too many redheads running around. That’s it. I’ve been wandering around for a couple of days trying to keep warm and find another way out.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Baltimore area,” Randy said.
“Why’d you leave Baltimore?”
“Because it’s worse there than here, if you can believe it. I was… out of my head for a bit. I lost someone very near and dear to me.”
“We all did,” one of the other guys said. “The fucking redhead killed a lot of people before she left. We’re going after her.”
The leader shook his head and stopped aiming at Randy’s head. “No, we ain’t. We have no way to follow her and it is too damn cold. We have no real idea where she’s heading, either.”
“South,” the guy offered. “Jimbo and me were on the roof when we saw her driving south.”
“Well, that really helps clear it up. Easy as pie now. We just go south. It ain’t like it’s a thousand miles to fucking Key West. And that’s if the bitch drives straight down and follows I-95. God forbid she turns at any point,” the leader said. “You’re an idiot. You know that?”
Randy sighed. “Look, I’m no harm. I’m just a guy having a shitty week. I want to find somewhere to sleep that’s warm tonight. The zombies are everywhere and we’re standing in the middle of the road.”
“You ain’t going anywhere, buddy. So shut the fuck up and put your hands back on your head,” the leader said. “We’ll decide what to do with you once we get back to the warehouse.”
“Does the warehouse have heat?” Randy asked. His fingers were on the verge of being frost-bitten. The days were getting nicer but at night it was still really cold.
“We live on the roof,” one of the men said.
“Shut up,” the leader said. “There’s no room for you at the warehouse.”
Randy was confused. “Huh? You just said you’d figure out what to do with me once we got back to the warehouse. I heard you. How about you guys?”
“You did say it,” one of the men admitted.
“I changed my fucking mind,” the leader yelled. “He’s another mouth to feed and we’re almost out of food. This town is dried up. Ain’t nothing left but zombies. But no one will listen to me. I’m not watching him.” He held up his pistol and took a step back. “I’m going to kill him and be done with it.”
“I think there’s an easier way,” Randy said, having no clue what it would be but trying to stall. He had his arms up again, waving his hands. “We can work this out. Every move doesn’t have to end in violence, buddy… I’m Randy. Randy Jackson.”
“Like the guy from American Idol?” one of them asked. “You, uh, don’t look like him.”
Randy had heard it a million times. Right now he didn’t want to get into a long-winded explanation about where his name came from. Although… “Have you ever heard of a rock band from Long Island called Zebra?”
All three men shook their heads. At least no one had shot him yet.
“I was named after the lead singer from what my mom tells me. I don’t know if it’s true or a coincidence. But I never had a problem until the show came on. I’ve even had people ask if we’re related,” Randy said. When the men laughed he felt relief. Maybe he could get them to joke around. He’d do a dance if it meant staying alive.
“That’s a great story. So long, Randy Jackson,” the leader said.
Randy closed his eyes. End of the line, he thought. What a horrible life and a horrible way to die.
What's next in this series or in your next book?
Highway To Hell 2 wraps up the story for not only Highway To Hell but also a character from Dying Days: Origin. From this point on I'll only be writing the main Dying Days story.
Preview of your next book?
Nothing I can share just yet. Working on Dying Days 6 for a June 2016 release.
When will it be available?
Highway To Hell 2 is available right now.
|Armand and cuddly Cthulhu|
Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida, where he writes when he's not sleeping. He's happily married to a woman who helps his career and is supportive, which is all he ever wanted in life...
He's written over 150 stories that are currently available, including horror, zombies, contemporary fiction, thrillers and more. His goal is to write a good story and not worry about genre labels.
He runs two very successful podcasts on Project iRadio,
Arm Cast: Dead Sexy Horror Podcast - interviewing fellow authors as well as filmmakers, musicians, etc.
Arm N Toof's Dead Time Podcast - with co-host Mark Tufo, the duo interview authors and filmmakers and anyone else they feel like talking with.
He also loves to talk in third person... because he's really that cool. He's a proud Active member of HWA as well.
You can find him at http://armandrosamilia.com for not only his latest releases but interviews and guest posts with other authors he likes!
And e-mail him to talk about zombies, baseball and Metal:
Edits for The Witch's Lair, Inquisitor Series #3, continue,
expect to be finished by this weekend or next.
expect to be finished by this weekend or next.
Still just $2.99
Amazon - http://goo.gl/D6KrbX
Inquisitor Series - http://goo.gl/mJtTf8
SOULLESS MONK Book # 2
Smashwords - https://goo.gl/NXw3Gr
Amazon - http://goo.gl/p9fBn0
Inquisitor Series - http://goo.gl/5lCyaX
Excerpt from The Witch's Lair, Book Three of the Inquisitor Series - We only got in a few miles, far enough that no one could hear our screams, when a twig fury stepped out from behind a tree, and tackled me. A twig fury is exactly what it sounds like, five feet of angry sticks held together by a bitter, malevolent spirit, bent on mayhem and death.