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  Praise for the Lance Winkless

  Fantastic

  “Brilliant series of books lots of exciting twists and turns kept you on edge wondering what happens next, will highly recommend this book to all my friends.”

  Highly Recommended!

  “Resurgence was a thrilling conclusion to the Capital Falling series. Couldn't put it down. It was nail biting right to the end. So glad I read these books.”

  Well, that was amazing!!

  “I’ve never read zombie genre before but this has been absolutely brilliant! I never knew I would cry over zombie literature but I have with this, laughed, cried, every emotion possible, in me from start to finish of this trilogy. The only thing I can say I’m disappointed with is ......... The End! I am now going to sit & gather myself together and just enjoy what I have read. Thank u soooooo much for the incredible journey I’ve been on from your wonderful work! Keep it up and if any future books come then I will be pre-ordering them irrelevant of genre, as it’s become perfectly clear to me I need to open up my options now, well done, you’re a star!”

  Great Series

  “Once again this author takes you for a ride, fast and furious military combined with zombies and family ties, will leave you turning page after page, once again thanks for the ride can't wait for the next instalment.”

  Lance Winkless was born in Sutton Coldfield, England, brought up in Plymouth, Devon and now lives in Staffordshire

  with his partner and daughter.

  For more information on Lance Winkless and future writing see his website

  www.LanceWinkless.com

  By Lance Winkless

  Capital Falling

  Capital Falling 2 – DENIAL

  Capital Falling 3 – RESURGENCE

  THE Z SEASON – KILL TONE

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  This book is a work of fiction,

  any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, organisations, places, incidents

  and events are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Lance Winkless

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced,

  transmitted in any formor by any means,

  photocopying, electronic, mechanical or otherwise

  without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

  Published by Lance Winkless

  www.LanceWinkless.com

  Arrival

  An all-too-familiar thump and shuddering vibration bounce Bobby in his seat, but he is barely startled. The jet’s engines reverse, and his seatbelt tightens around his waist as the airplane slows down fractionally before his body does. Bobby is momentarily disorientated as he wakes; his luxurious first-class seat and the confusing silence have afforded him at least some sleep on his long flight.

  His eyes flicker open slowly, the bright light streaming through the window next to him, accosting his eyes. A flight attendant must have opened the blind for landing for him because the last thing he remembers is closing it. He then remembers why he is in silence and pulls his expensive headphones off his head, letting them rest around the back of his neck. He is surprised that the flight attendant hasn’t woken him to remove them for landing.

  A couple of seconds later, he remembers what part of the world and which city he has just touched down in. He’s lost count of how many landings he has clocked up this summer; however, it’s too many. Bobby’s summers are elongating year on year. It is always summer somewhere in the world and his skills are demanded in the Earth’s southern hemisphere more and more as his reputation continues to grow. The novelty of travelling the world to engineer the sound at the world’s biggest concerts and festivals has worn off in the few years it’s been since he first stumbled into it.

  Bobby is a musician first and foremost, and how he wishes his music had worked out for him. It very nearly did, but unfortunately didn’t—not quite. Now he travels the world, working his magic to make other people’s music sound amazing. And that isn’t very easy with some of the so-called ‘artists’ he works with, some of whom Bobby would categorise as charlatans, no matter how much they pay him.

  Looking around the airplane’s cabin at the passengers preparing for the rigours of exiting and the airport beyond, Bobby feels little motivation to join them. He has no other option though, so he takes a breath and starts to gather his belongings together.

  Another day, a new city and yet the same hotel room, Bobby thinks as he puts his flight case onto the stand next to the wall. The evening is starting to descend and Bobby is surprised by how awake he feels. Normally, he feels drained after a long flight, no matter what time his body clock thinks it is, and he just chills in his hotel room.

  Another engineer Bobby knows, one who’s also working at the Kill Tone Festival this week, has messaged to see if he wants to meet for a drink. Normally, he would decline and save his energy for the work ahead. But tonight, he is going to accept. He fancies a blowout and the engineer who has messaged him is notorious for her partying, like the roadies of old. He will order room service and then get himself ready for the night of chaos that’s sure to ensue with Tanya.

  Chapter 1

  Jack’s head pounds like a jackhammer as he lies naked on top of his bedsheets. A shallow breeze from the open bedroom window does little to cool his sweating body and limbs. The oppressively hot summer has disturbed his sleep for more nights than he can count. He is sweating more than usual tonight, however, thanks to the remnants of the cocaine still swirling around in his veins and feeding his racing heart.

  The pounding pain in his head and his racing heartbeat are stopping the sleep he is desperately trying to replenish following the heavy alcohol and drug-fuelled night that has all too recently finished. He keeps telling himself he will drop off to sleep any time now; he is so tired, it’s inevitable. Sleep doesn’t come, however, and now his dried out mouth is irritating him.

  “Fuck me,” he says to himself under his breath, as he gives in and hauls himself over the side of his bed and onto the floor. Stumbling as he rises from the bed, still drunk, he manages to catch himself against the bedroom wall. Steadying himself on the wall, he reaches for the handle for the bathroom door. Rays of light escape from around the edges of the door, showing him the way. Jack can’t remember leaving the bathroom light on, but it was probably his masterplan to stop his drunken head from spinning when he got into bed. If that is the reason the light is still on, it was a waste of electricity, as his head didn’t spin, the same as it wouldn’t sleep.

  Jack’s eyes protest and squint when the full glare of the bathrooms light is released and hits his pupils as the door swings open. Keeping one hand on the wall, he moves towards the light without delay. The spinning sensation has now started in his head, and he needs to sit down quickly before he passes out.

  He drops down hard onto the toilet, just as the last drop of blood is about to drain out of his brain. The toilet creaks, threatening to dislodge from the sudden impact. Jack doesn’t notice the sounds of protest. His head is buried in his hands as his low position gradually allows blood back into his head. A slow, double throb of pumping blood and pain tears at his brain and his skin slickens with sweat from the exertion. The feeble breeze from the window doesn’t make it into the bathroom, which is as hot as a steam room.

  Why do I get myself into such a state? he thinks as his bladder opens. A fear hits him as he struggles to remember last night’s events and how much it will have cost him to remember so little. The fear deepens to almost a panic when he tries to recollect if he still has his phone in
his possession. He can’t remember.

  Without warning, spit and bile streams into his mouth; he is about to puke and reacts just in time. Cutting his bladder off and whipping around, Jack grips the toilet seat as his stomach evacuates the remaining alcohol still poisoning him. His stomach spasms horrendously and painfully until it is satisfied it has ejected the last of the toxic concoction of booze. Jack is left gasping for breath with drool dangling from his mouth, but even now, he knows his recovery has started. Sweat is pouring from his body when he retakes his seat back on the toilet to finish his piss.

  Pulling off the last strands of the toilet paper from the roll hanging next to him, he wipes his mouth, then his dick, before releasing the paper. He is momentarily proud of himself for reusing the paper and doing his bit for the environment.

  Whilst his head has stopped its spin, the throbbing pain remains, and Jack prays there are painkillers in the tatty bathroom cabinet above the sink. Jack’s hand reaches for the towel rail opposite him, the one that he always uses to help pull himself up from the toilet. His arm stops midway over to the rail as he sees that it is hanging off the wall, broken. A flashback from last night hits him, of pulling the rail off the wall when he tried to do the same thing, another casualty of his debauchery that will never be fixed.

  Nevertheless, Jack manages to get to his feet and they get him over to the sink, then even manages to kick an empty beer bottle out of his path on the way over. He hardly notices the cigarette butt and glass in the sink as he bends to drink straight from the tap. The water is warm but it loosens his mouth, and his stomach doesn’t throw it straight back up. Opening the bathroom cabinet as he rises, he immediately sees several boxes of painkillers, but knows that they could easily all be empty as he has no idea when he last replenished his stash. After two empty boxes, he finds a fresh foil-covered plastic tray of six tablets, to his relief. Popping out three, the magic number for pain tablets, he picks up the ash-covered glass from the sink, swills it off, fills it with water and downs the three tablets. Finally, before he retreats back to bed, he refills the glass and takes a sorry look at himself in the mirror on the cabinet door as he closes it. I look like death warmed up, he thinks as he turns for the bathroom door.

  Jack stops, startled at the threshold to the bedroom. The dull light of dawn that is creeping in through the half-closed curtains and the light behind him reflects off the shimmering skin of a naked figure. Whoever the woman is lying on the far side of the bed, she is facing away from him, on her side. A slim curved back leads to a voluptuously rounded bottom, with a tempting dark centre. The figure’s long leg is pointed straight down the bed, but the second leg is curled up towards her body, spreading her bum cheeks enticingly.

  Another flashback comes to Jack, one of stumbling into the bedroom with his tongue reaching down the throat of the woman on the bed. Clothes were ripped off as he lusted over the stunning creature. He has no idea where she appeared from, but remembers that he couldn’t believe his luck. Once he had stripped her naked, his eyes poring over every possible view of her as her beautiful body was revealed, he had lifted her onto the bed to mount her before she changed her mind. That was where his problems had started. The woman had spread herself to show Jack her perfectly manicured, wet pussy and she had given him time to get ready. Jack’s manhood wouldn’t engage though, no matter where the gorgeous woman’s hands went, exploring her own body. She was so desperate for him to enter her, her hand had reached to him and played with him, but nothing would get his penis working. The situation had gone from a dream to a nightmare very quickly. Jack was drunk and embarrassed, making apologies, while the woman had gone from steaming hot to ice cold before his eyes, before turning over to go to sleep.

  That was last night, and hangover or not, Jack is now rock hard, taking in the view lying before him. He puts the glass of water onto his bedside cupboard and then moves to the left, out of the light of the bathroom, letting it illuminate the erotic vision that is breathing gently, asleep on his bed. Slowly, Jack moves around to the end of his bed, his eyes searching her body, savouring its beauty, knowing the images will, unfortunately, fade all too soon. Gently, he sits next to her small foot with pink painted toes that twitch as his weight on the bed moves the foot slightly. Thankfully, him sitting doesn’t stir the woman and he sits still, drinking in her body. His eyes move from her foot, along her long slender straight leg that has a slight natural tan colour, to its soft-looking skin. His eyes stop to take in her other curled up leg and its foot, her calf muscle beautifully defined in the low shadowy light. He prepares himself before his view continues up to her magnificent rear that rises from the bedsheets. Jack’s eyes widen and move around, taking in every inch of her magnificence, from her sculpted round cheeks to the soft delights they hold within.

  There is no stopping it; Jack’s uncontrollable rising desire moves his hand towards the luscious flesh laid out before him. As his hand nears making contact, his heartbeat increases, the uncertainty of how the woman will react when he touches her and the anticipation of feeling her skin, combining. The woman might not take kindly to his advance. She may wake up a totally different person from the carefree, uninhibited exhibitionist she was last night. If that was the case, would she have stayed laid out on the bed for him, tempting him in? Her reaction is of little consequence, since Jack’s sexual urge has overtaken him. His hand gently touches her foot, his fingers wrapping around her toes. The foot jolts as if frightened and tries to pull away from Jack’s grasp. He tightens his grip though, and as quickly as it started, the pulling stops and the woman’s long leg relaxes. Jack’s grip softens as the foot settles again and his fingers slide across the top of her foot before coming back down to tickle her dainty toes. His confidence building, Jack slides his hand up across the smooth skin of her stretched-out leg and then his hand goes up onto the top of her bum and hip before sliding down her other curled-up leg. Goosebumps rise from her skin as his hand smooths her, the involuntary reaction to his touch adding to his confidence.

  Brown curls start to move at the top of the bed as the sleeping beauty starts to stir from her slumber. The movement of her head travels down her body as her arms move and her curled leg straightens, disappointingly cutting off Jack’s view of her ass. His disappointment is forgotten instantly as her leg keeps moving and rolls her onto her back. Jack’s eyes move from her trimmed, almost nude pussy up to the two rounded breasts that sway as if by magic with every small movement she makes, pointing her hard pink nipples in one direction and then the other.

  Almost having to force himself, Jack’s eyes leave her body to focus onto her face, as he tries to remember exactly what she looks like. He isn’t disappointed, as she is as beautiful as his blurred memory from last night remembers. Miraculously, her make-up seems to have stayed in place after her sleep, even if it is slightly smudged around her dark eyes and full red lips. A switch flicks in Jack’s brain and he suddenly remembers her name. Veronica, he is sure of it.

  Veronica peers down her body looking at Jack, with a faint look of confusion. She is going through the same struggle as Jack had, piecing together what happened last night. For a moment, Jack thinks that she will remember last night’s shenanigans and the disastrous finale, will grab her clothes and leave as quickly as she can.

  He watches Veronica’s face in trepidation, waiting for her to remember his sexual failure and the look of disgust that is sure to accompany it. Her small nose curls and her eyebrows furrow, Jack knows that memory has resurfaced, this is it, he thinks. His eyes go to move, to take one last look at her stunning body before she goes, but something stops his eyes moving. Veronica’s lips start to move and a mischievous smile enlightens her face. Her legs move a moment later and now Jack’s gaze does move. He watches as Veronica’s legs spread slowly apart and then her knees pull her legs up to spread herself in front of him. Jack’s eyes are locked, watching her soft pink pussy open itself as her legs move further apart, her lips popping open, letting her juices out to
glisten in the low light.

  Jack is almost at bursting point as he moves onto the bed, kneeling in front of her, in between her legs. Veronica’s face and chest are flushed red, her hips gyrating slowly around as she looks up at Jack, her right foot hooking around his lower back to pull him into her. He resists her pull, however, needing to regather himself, or it will all be over before it is started. Jack’s left hand takes hold of her ankle and pulls it from around his back. As Veronica’s hips gyrate upwards, Jack’s fingers move to meet her rising pussy and she reacts immediately. She is soaking wet and she doesn’t give Jack a chance to tease or play with her, her hand grabs his and pulls it into her until he has two fingers buried deep into her wetness. Veronica pants, fast and deep as she sets about humping Jack’s two fingers, his arm muscles straining to satisfy her. Juices flow out of Veronica to soak Jack’s hand as her panting increases and her hips move faster until she reaches her first orgasm.

  “Take me now,” Veronica insists, both of her legs wrapping around Jack to pull him into her, not giving him any choice but to comply. Her hand pulls his away from her pussy as her legs pull him in. She pulls his hand to her mouth and she takes his juice-soaked fingers into it, sucking on them deeply.

  Jack enters Veronica, sliding straight into her as her hips rise to meet him. Jack pushes deep inside her, opening the parts of her that his fingers couldn’t reach. When he is all the way into her, he pushes again, reaching as far inside this beautiful and insatiable woman as he can.