Mr. Borelli provides an intriguing epidemiological study of zombies ranging from 60,000 BC to present times drawing some startling conclusions and links to known historical events along the way. Included are previously unreported (or covered-up) zombie outbreaks, as well as information about the current zombie pandemic, and the various ways zombies are created. He pays particular attention to illustrating what the historical record shows compared to the disinformation perpetrated by the CDC and other government agencies. Based on his own experience as well as that of others, Mr. Borelli’s book is an invaluable guide to detecting, restraining, and killing zombies as well as other vital steps required to survive the zombie pandemic. If you want to survive, you need to read this guide and follow it carefully.
- Rebecca Lundberg, avid reader, zombie defense instructor and attack survivor
From the Author
This is the story of one man and his family as they struggled to survive the zombie pandemic that swept the globe. In truth, the first infections were seen in 2010 and 2011, and by the time the infamous “end of the world” date of December 21, 2012, came around, the general populations of the world – those who paid attention anyway – were becoming suspicious. The smart ones were already planning and preparing. The really smart ones realized that if they were right about the unthinkable – a zombie pandemic – that it wouldn’t just happen ONCE. Anything that happens once can happen again. So, I type their story as they shared it with me. Interspersed in the chapters of their experience are the lessons intelligent people have learned; some based on information disseminated by the government agencies of the various world powers, others based on simple common sense and ugly experience. I encourage you to read their story and study the lessons in between. Because it’s happened once… are you willing to bet your life and the lives of those you love that it will never happen again?
From the Inside Flap
Although claimed as a work of fiction, there are a lot of truths within the story of the Rustovic Family as they prepare and survive this current outbreak of Zombies. The narrator Frank Borelli was fortunate enough to have interviewed Russ; a man whom despite the scoffing and laughter from others including his own family in the beginning was able to protect his own family, thus “Surviving the Zombies”! Reading the details of Russ interview reminds me that we have all been where he was at the beginning; especially when having a family that you want to protect. First perceiving a possible threat, researching the history and discovering “Why weren’t we told?’ Just like a puzzle Russ was able to put all the pieces together! Determined Rus found the one person whom who could teach and prepare his family. He took a stand; making a pledge to protect his family. Others whom scoffed and laughed didn’t heed the warnings soon found out the hard way with not only their own lives but that of their family; they should have listened! Although as many of us have discovered that the best made plans of Mice and Man can some times jump out and smack you! Rus found out the hard way as it only takes one slipup; one tiny error that could cost everyone’s life! Yet, if everything was easy we would never have to prepare! So, we plan and prepare so when the Zombies appear and becomes a reality there is that gut feeling that you know your family has a fighting chance! That’s what Rus did and now he is alive to tell his story. Most of us at one time in our lives have been a hunter of some sort. But, with Zombies; you are the prey! And even more important: Zombies are always hungry! So heed the words of wisdom; remember the lessons learned from the Rustovic Family! Otherwise you are but a snack for the Zombies! Surviving the Zombies is an excellent book to start you on your preparations; Rus has shared in great detail what you must do to protect your family not just what to use; but the how and why is explained! As for me, I have got to stock up on more magnesium shavings & the first neighbor that turns, their yard becomes the burn pit!
- Pamela Carroll
Based on experience and knowledge gained during his thirty-plus years of service in uniform, the author prepared this Personal Disaster Planning Handbook to offer basic guidance. This handbook addresses emergency preparedness at home, and in a redundant, layered approach if you are required-by law or circumstance-to leave your home. The first sections address the various layers, beginning with you, followed by your home, your vehicle, your backpack, your vest (if you use one) and finally your belt and pockets. Weapons for hunting and defense are discussed, as are an assortment of other tools necessary to survive in austere environments. The final sections of the book provide reference material such as checklists, online resources, recommended websites, and equipment reviews.
“Father to Son” is an instruction manual for sons on how to live life with honor, dignity, and integrity. It covers subjects across the spectrum from how to to treat people (well), to when to fight (when there’s no alternative), and what to think about money (it’s necessary, but not the end-all). While it takes a decidedly 21st century approach to life–no macho advice or testosterone-poisoned prose, it also takes what we now fondly call an “old-school” approach, too. Frank advises his sons (and the rest of us) to treat people well…always at first, and as time goes on if they deserve it. He suggests that violence is not a way of life or the solution to most problems…but that there are things worth fighting for and you should fight for them. He says that money is necessary to fulfill your obligations and to properly care for your family…but that you shouldn’t get caught up in its pursuit for its own sake. And there’s a lot more. This is the heart and soul of a father that every son either carries with him or wishes he did.
Contextual Intuition is a theory developed that supposes that soldiers and law enforcement professionals can be trained in a specific manner which will support subconscious decision making that conforms to legal and administration controls. This paper examines how such training should be structured; what the strengths of such training are and the applications wherein it would be most useful.
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This short book discusses what human development challenges are faced and must be overcome to enable a person to successfully engage in combat AND survive both mentally and spiritually intact after the fact. Other philosophies of motivation are examined and contemporary cultural impacts are also analyzed and discussed.
American Thinking is a collection of Frank Borelli’s writings on a wide range of topics: the nature of being an American and the service-orientated nature of patriotism; the training necessary to so serve; the kinds of threats that we will need to address as patriots; the equipment (including mental equipment) we need; and a close look at the threat that will most define this generation: terrorism on our soil.
If there’s one theme that defines Frank’s outlook and runs through this book, it is that terrorism will be the standard reality here in the U.S. in a very short time, and that we as a nation – each of us individually as citizens – will have to change to deal with it. And it’s not a pretty picture. Life here will get more violent; the traditional social-work / liability-ruled approach to life – and to use-of-force in particular – will have to adapt; we will have to become genuine warriors. Short of this, we will become another Europe: appeasing, cowardly, statist, and basically controlled by any world-stage despot or philosophy. Frank is emerging as one of the leading writers on the consequences of this coming reality. He writes to the individual – not to the academicians, not to the social critics – but to you and me. His chapters in this book on the meaning of service, on facing up to the task at hand, and on training and preparation for it are critical reading. American Thinking will be one of the seminal publications that define what we are and what we do in this new world.
The Above Dirt collection of stories and life lessons will also help you to be inspired! Read the stories and you will have a greater appreciation of the blessings you have and challenges you face. Use them to do more, to be more! The lessons are enduring. Above Dirt will have you thinking about your life, your goals, and your possibilities.
A Cop’s Nightmare: Cloning the Ancients is a sci-fi detective thriller unlike anything else. When Morgan Blackwell is involved in two shootings in two days, he begins an odyssey into the world of ancient religions and cultures, both interwoven with modern day battlefield efforts. Looking for a friend who might help him unravel the mystery that seems to grow daily, Morgan finds himself being targeted by religious, military and political assassins.
When he and his friends find out the truth behind Morgan’s shootings, they also find the answers to questions originating before the evolution of mankind on planet Earth. Finally, with proper information, financing and weapons, Morgan and his friends are able to strike at the heart of the conspiracy, only to find out that the hydra has more than one heart!
For further information about the “A Cop’s Nightmare” series, click here.
Comments others have made after reading this book:
-”It’s an interesting new twist to the typical vampire fiction. Suspenseful and riveting. I recommend highly to everyone!”
- “Yeah, I read this book, and it is a most original and interesting piece of vampire fiction.”
Here is an excerpt from the first in this exciting new series:
Visibility became my first concern as I flipped the switches for all my lights. The lightbar lit up with red and blue rotators as well as red flashers and the white takedowns. I stopped my car and put it in reverse in case I had to try to escape the collision, but I didn’t start moving yet. Something wasn’t quite right. The car was moving real slow, across my lane more than toward me in it, and I realized that I could see no driver behind the wheel.
I stayed put and watched the vehicle completely cross my lane, jumping the curb and hitting a small sapling, which was enough to stop it. I saw that it was a taxi and wondered about the occupants. That question was answered just a fraction of a second later as I looked farther down Eastern Avenue to see two men standing in the middle of the road. I guess I was about thirty yards away, but I could plainly see that one man was holding the other by his shirtfront, brandishing a gun in the victim’s face. They were looking directly at me and fear was evident in both sets of eyes.
Recognizing an attempted armed robbery in progress, I dropped my cruiser back down into gear and tromped on the accelerator. The robber, knowing he’d been had, released the victim, and pushed him away, conveniently pushing him out of my line of driving. Turning his gun toward me, the robber fired three shots, two of which entered my windshield almost exactly in the middle of my car. Trying to duck behind the wheel, I pushed harder on the accelerator, having every intention of bouncing this ner-do-well off the hood of my cruiser. He started running the opposite direction, nice enough to stay in the middle of the street. I thought for a moment that he had no way to escape because that portion of Eastern Avenue goes right over a set of railroad tracks and the bridge is at least fifty feet over the tracks. If he ran to the side of the road, he’d go splat shortly after jumping over the concrete barrier.
I was confident. He was mine. The fear on his face was obvious as he looked back, trying to outrun my oncoming cruiser. Finally he realized that he wouldn’t make it, and he veered to the side of the road. Fine with me; I veered as well continuing in my intention to hit him or smear him onto the concrete barriers. When he got to the barricades, he stopped and turned to face me, bringing his weapon back up on line and firing another two shots. Subconsciously I knew that he had fired five of the six rounds his revolver (I was close enough to see it) would hold. I also recognized the fact that those last two rounds had come through my windshield close enough that I felt glass fragments stinging my cheek.
Swerving the car, I jammed on my brakes and came to a stop less than twenty feet from him. In a motion that I’ve practiced too many times to count, I opened the door with my left hand as my right found my gun and drew it from my security holster. A small part of my mind registered that the grips were still warm from my incident in the cemetery, but I don’t know why that thought stuck with me. Circling back to my trunk, I mentally kicked myself for leaving the excellent cover of the steel engine block for the less worthy sheet-metal cover of the trunk panels. Settling my gun over the trunk, I lined the bad guy up in my sights and started to shout a warning. He didn’t give me the chance. His gun was coming back up on line and I wasn’t going to let him fire the last shot.
I stroked my trigger twice, just as I’d been taught, and was temporarily blinded by the muzzle flash from my hot-loaded police issue ammo. When my vision readjusted, I didn’t see the robber anywhere and figured he’d fallen to the road out of my line of view because of my position behind the police car. With my weapon still trained in the direction of the perceived threat, I gradually stood up and realized that he was nowhere to be found.
Now, I’ve shot better than ninety-five percent throughout my police career at distances of up to one hundred feet. I was sure that I’d hit the bad guy with both rounds that I’d fired from less than twenty. Then it dawned on me: the impact of the rounds must have knocked him backwards over the barricades and he’d fallen some fifty feet to the railroad tracks after being shot twice. My heart sunk; it’d be a long night. There was no way he was alive.
Just then, the victim of the attempted robbery came running over, thanking me in jilted English, with a strong Jamaican accent, for having saved his life. I sat him down and got on the radio to call for assistance. In a police shooting, a lot of people got called out: homicide investigators, evidence technicians, the patrol area supervisor, my supervisor, a public information officer and more. Once I’d made the proper notifications on the radio, I went back over to the edge of the bridge. Shining my flashlight down, with my gun alongside just in case, I scanned the area below.
There was no sign of the bad guy. What the hell? I thought to myself. He had to have been hit, and then he fell the equivalent of five stories. He couldn’t have walked away. Could he? When the first unit arrived, I gave him a condensed version of what had happened and together we went down the steep dirt trail that led from the roadside to the railroad tracks. At the bottom, we looked around carefully but found no sign of blood or a body. Once again, I thought, What the hell?
“A Cop’s Nightmare 2: Vampires In The Old West” pits Morgan Blackwell and his best friend, Chuck Bendetti, against a conspiracy to recreate the state of Colorado as a “pure” vampire region. Traveling back to the 1860s, Morgan and Chuck find themselves pitted against a full team of vamp-clones, sent back to further the success of the conspiracy. As Morgan and Chuck battle vamp-clones and Indians in the old west, Karl and Don keep the modern-day vampire mayoral candidate from successfully completing the plan of a pure vampire colony started one hundred and thirty years before!
For further information about the “A Cop’s Nightmare” series, click here.
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Comments others have made after reading this book:
-”I found the book a fun and engaging read. It has a little bit of something for everyone – horror, history, western, sci-fi, action/adventure, humor, political intrigue, and yes, even a little romance. Frank managed the tricky task of not introducing flawed logic into a story that deals with time travel – i.e. what happens to current history if you go back in time and change things. I consumed the entire book during the flight – it was that good!”
Here is an excerpt from this second book in the series:
“Good luck,” Mike said as he took a few steps back away from us. “Give us a few minutes to clear the area and then do what you gotta do,” he said. “Remember everything we’ve talked about while you’re there,” were his last words before he turned and walked away. Sheighan went with him, saying nothing and giving a short wave before he turned away as well.
Looking over at Chuck, I said, “You ready to do this?”
“No,” he answered me honestly. “I’ve got so much adrenaline flowing through me right now that I think I’m actually vibrating,” he chuckled, though I could sense it wasn’t authentic. “But let’s get it over with before we bullshit too long and never do it.”
“Hold on,” I said, meaning it both figuratively and literally. Chuck reached over and grabbed my arm, and we were sitting close enough that he could hold onto me without having to reach far. For a moment I remembered the scuba training he and I had taken together. We were dive-buddies and one rule we always paid attention to was, “never be more than an arm’s reach from your buddy.” I smiled at the memory of the first time that rule paid off and then took a deep breath. As I slowly released the breath, I activated the step-tech device. At first I didn’t think anything was changing around us, but the air felt thicker and the sounds were crisper…. Until they became an elongated squeal carrying every pitch, with no individual sound being distinguishable from another.
As the squeal softened to silence, I realized that the trees were changing around us. The leaves were changing colors, coming and going, and the trees were getting shorter. As the minutes passed for us, years passed faster around us and the landscape changed as we watched. The air stayed thick as if it was an extremely humid summer day, but breathing seemed easier, though I couldn’t figure out why. I was almost startled when the darkness set in and I felt like I was in an isolation chamber. With the exception of Chuck’s hand on my arm and the rock under my butt, I had no sense of existence at all. There was no sound except for my own heartbeat, which I could seem to hear with my entire body, and my breathing, which sounded like wind rushing in my ears. I couldn’t see or hear Chuck beside me, but his hand on my arm was the anchor in this empty space that I held onto. I focused my being on the contact between his hand and my arm and wondered if he could feel my heart beating as well as I could? Was my arm pulsing under his hand? My arm felt like it was inflating and deflating with every beat of my heart and it felt like it was moving more and larger with every beat. Pretty soon, as strong as Chuck was, I knew that his hand wouldn’t be big enough to stay wrapped around my arm and he’d be forced to let go. Then I’d be alone in this void…. No light… no sound…. Just the rock under my butt forever.
And then it began to lighten though there were still no sounds. The landscape was light gray at first, devoid of any color or movement. Then the color began to fill in and the movement became more perceptible. When the squeal of sound began I knew that we were getting near the end of our step-travel. Chuck’s hand was still on my arm and my breathing wasn’t quite so loud in my ears anymore. My heart was still hammering in my chest, and, like Chuck, I was sure that my entire body must be vibrating from the amount of adrenaline that was rushing through me.
It took us a moment to realize that we’d completed our trip. We sat for what seemed like several minutes with the birds chirping around us and some frogs croaking in the distance. I could hear the wind in the trees now, though they were different trees than they were when we started. I looked over at Chuck and asked, “Are were there yet, Dad?” He laughed, and I laughed, and we were both thankful for some levity in the moment. I was scared for him to release my arm. What if we were still stepping, but so slow that we could hardly perceive it? If he let go, we’d be out of synch and that would be a bad thing.
After things had returned to normal, we sat, his hand on my arm, for another five or ten minutes before we finally agreed that we had to be time-stable. He let go of my arm and nothing happened. Shrugging off my pack, I put the step-tech device back into it and then I began to climb down off the rock. Chuck handed the packs down to me and then climbed/jumped down himself. Getting back into our packs, we made sure our gunbelts were adjusted properly and began our walk to the nearest town. We knew that it would take us two days of walking, and maybe part of a third day depending on how hard we pushed ourselves. If everything had worked right, we were in eighteen-sixty-four, sometime near the end of the summer, beginning of fall. Any time in September or early October would be fine, but we wouldn’t know when we were for sure until we got to the town.