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Matty wakes up one fateful night to discover that a zombie pandemic took over the world. Left with only one sensible option to escape the battlefield their city became, Matty summons his most trusted companion, Shrilla, a giant and intelligent golden eagle that he has rescued from a bio engineering facility. During their journey, Matty realizes Shrilla's affection far surpasses his expectations.

This is an excerpt of my published long story, My Eagle's Gambit. You can read the whole thing by going to this link and purchasing it on Amazon or on Smashwords

Do you want to get it for free for being a Patreon supporter, as well as a myriad of other perks that come with it? Then*Support me on Patreon for novel chapters, snippets, short stories, and more awesome content+art! You get all the stories before everyone else does, plus various Patreon exclusive content that you can only get by supporting me.*

Okies, enough advertising. I hope you like the cover art, as well as the excerpt I provided. You're free to treat it like any other story by rating it and commenting it, though the brunt of the steamy man-on-eagle ntercourse can only be found by purchasing the whole story. On with the show!

***

I woke up with a start over the blaring of sirens that crept through my half opened windows. Sweat covered my chest, and I had to suck in deep breaths to ease my racing heart. Whatever I dreamt about faded into the wails of police cars, ambulances, firefighters? Since when did my narrow alley of a street have room for firefighters? I rolled onto my stomach, dug my head into the pillow and rolled it over my ears to muffle the jarring din.

I almost drifted back into the pleasant numbness heralding a dream when a loud crash made me jerk back to my senses. It sounded like an explosion. Very much so. And a myriad of lights danced across the street, while shouts and yells and screams came from below. An accident? No--nobody fussed over a mere accident like the crowd below did.

I snuck out of my cot, rubbed my bleary eyes to clear the haze marring my vision and went to my window for a peak. Boom! The sound of a shotgun forced me to stagger back a few steps, gulp down on the little moisture that wet my numb mouth, and stare. That's all I did. Stare, shiver, and stare some more at the spectacle of lights and bangs happening across the street.

What the fuck was going on down there? Why now? Why near my building? Maybe it was a gang war of sorts, a turf dispute like in the movies. Only, my neighborhood didn't shelter that kind of people, and gangsters sure as heck didn't roar and run amok like the few people I glimpsed in the distance.

My heart pounded, and my temples throbbed so hard they muffled out any thought regarding my choice of action. I acted it all on instinct: Change from my pajamas into a pair of jeans, a comfortable sweater over a shirt to keep out the stinging predawn chill, my brown leather jacket. I filled its pockets with keys, ID, a pocket knife and whirled on my toes towards the living room.

I froze before the door when shouts came from the stairway--my stairway!--followed by rasping gurgling and muffled growling. I swiped away the cold sweat slithering down my brow, went to my brother's room and knocked frantically.

"Ken, open the fuck up. There is some freaky shit happening right now." The asshole gave me a drawn-out moan in response. Typical. He had the room facing the back yard and double glassed windows meant to preserve his peaceful sleep. I threw my fists at the door, even kicked it, until my older brother dignified me with a loud curse. He turned the key in its socket, opened the door and shoved me back.

"Geez, Matty, what the fuck man? Want mommy to give you a good night kiss so that you can dream of unicorns and rainbows?" He slid back into his room and threw the door shut, but I placed my heel against it to block it.

"Ken, listen." I barely evaded his punch by tilting my head to the left. "Just freaking listen, will you?!"

He gave me a quizzical look, just as the commotion died down. He shook his head and poked my brow with a meaty finger. "Get the fuck out man, and let me sleep. The one time our folks are away has to be the one where--"

He turned towards me at the wail that came from the apartment below us, followed by the crash of breaking glass, the thud of falling furniture, and more screams. His eyes grew to the size of apples, and his hands thrust into his curly hair to push it away from his brow.

"Fuck," he moaned with a high pitched voice. "Burglars." He stormed past me, went to the door to double lock it and pulled the chain across it for good measure. Then, he strode back into his room, grabbed a baseball bat and shoved me behind his half naked form. "Shh, not even a peep."

"It's not burglars Ken," I said to his broad, naked back. "They don't make that much noise. There are police cars, ambulances and firefighters putting out fires outside. Then, you have the screams and the gunshots and the cars bumping into each other..." I trailed off to cup my face into my palms. My head pounded from the turmoil that took place outside, and my feet turned cold from the icy sweat creeping through my skin.

Ken heard them too. As big and dumb as my brother was, he recognized the sound of a revolver emptying itself at something. Something that growled, and lived through the storm of bullets, and tore the neighbor from the floor above us to shreds. Ken's bat clattered on the ground as he went into his room to dress up.

"This is fucked up this is fucked up this is fucked up," he repeated. I watched him equip an AC/DC shirt, then a hoodie to shadow the gaunt features of his face. His eyes caught mine as he clasped the belt buckle shut, wide over his thick, perked eyebrows. "The fuck you think this is? Gay parade? Stop staring and start packing."

Packing. I could do packing. I rushed into my room to grab my backpack with stiff, trembling fingers, emptied it onto the floor, ran towards the fridge and threw in everything that resembled food. More shrieks came from the stairway, mixed with growls of all sorts and intensities. People screamed, and people died, and all I heard over the din was the clatter of my teeth.

I dashed towards a chest of drawers to throw in a set of knives and the survival gear from the second drawer. Flint, tinder, lighter, that sort of stuff. By the time I finished, by knees turned to mush from the unearthly sounds wafting through the closed windows.

This wasn't a nightmare, I knew. Ken's tight grip on my shoulder actually stung, and his narrow gaze sent a shudder through my spine due to its intensity. "You're the little brother by how many years?"

"Nineteen--ninety two--by two," I mumbled. His slap threw my head to the side, yet no sound escaped my tight jaws.

"Don't panic, and tell me what I want to hear," he said, his voice calm and surprisingly cool.

"You're fucking twenty one ok? Don't freaking ask me--"

Another slap. This time, on my other cheek. I stumbled from its sheer might, but Ken grabbed me and straightened me with his strong arms.

"Don't forget that, because whatever happens next, you do whatever the fuck I say. Got that?"

I nodded over Ken's authoritative voice, wincing from the burning sting in my cheeks. "So what do we do?" I said as my gaze ran over to my sneakers. I handled the backpack to Ken so that I could equip them. He was taller than me, bigger too, and stood straight like a soldier ready to march into battle. Too bad the words that came out of his mouth erased that pleasant visage.

"I don't know man." He unzipped the backpack, frowned at it and threw open all the drawers. "I don't know Matt. Find out. You packed so much shit I don't even..." his eyes shifted from a pair of wire cutters to me. "That means you leave me the fuck alone for a moment to think, yo!"

I didn't linger to contest his decision. He was right. He had been to survival camps, ran marathons, trained every day unlike me. He knew what he was doing, what to pack, and how to handle the messy situation that unfolded below our apartment. I went to my room to pace around and cover my ears whenever gun shots were fired. My jittery eyes moved across the room faster than I could think, until they settled on my desk.

The whistle. HER WHISTLE!

I threw open the drawer, grabbed the silvery, low frequency whistle, took in a deep breath and blew it. The growls from below became roars, so loud and terrifying the whistle slipped from my numb lips and fell onto the floor. I grabbed it, wrapped its chain around my neck and stuffed it under my shirt when my brother bustled in. He had his katana strapped across his right shoulder, the backpack across his left, and the bat in his right hand. He handled it to me, then looked around the room.

"Freaking wish dad wasn't a sissy when it came to guns." He wiped the sweat off his brow and released a shuddering sigh. "What's out there, man?"

I moved towards the window, but Ken pulled me back. "You stupid? What if you get your head blown off?"

"You said--"

"Rhetorical question, dumbass."

A pit formed into my stomach at the realization. Shrilla. What if she...on her way to... I shook my head to dispel the silly thought. She flew too high, away from whatever happened down there, away from the fire and the bullets.

"We can't go out there. Chances are somebody will shoot us for the sake of it. That means our best course of action is to stay here, defend our apartment, and make our escape when shit settles down," Ken said. We both looked towards the door when a raspy growl came, too close for comfort. Gun shots followed, so loud my ears rang from their intensity. They blew holes through our door, tiny circles through which the flickering light of a fire filtered through.

Then, the bang came. Thud, thud, thud, accompanied by throaty growls and moans. I caught Ken's wrist when he moved towards it.

"Don't go there. I called Shrilla. She'll be here."

His eyebrows drooped in an instant as his brow acquired its customary deep furrows. "An eagle. A pet eagle to hug while we wait for whatever's past that door to kill us. Great thinking." He shook out of my grip and shoved a hand across my mouth when I tried to reply. "No, shut up. Shut the fuck up and let me chop off the bastard's head off."

I knew my lies will catch up with me. I licked my lips to wet them, then took a deep breath. "She's not a pet. She's too big to be a pet. Loyal, is what she is; and affectionate, and god damn smart."

Ken waved my words off as he clutched the handle of his katana. "Awesome. We can die together if this goes to shit, all three of us."

"We won't die if we fly away," I added as I clutched her whistle in my tightening fist. "Believe me on that."

"Fly away on a golden eagle." My brother, my stupid, infuriating brother, gave me his most annoying chuckle. "You'd sound more convincing if you wore a grey robe, a pointy hat, and had Gandalf's voice."

I tensed up when a fist broke through the door. The arm pushed through, bloody and torn, with bone splinters jutting out of the broken wrist. I coughed at the sight as my stomach lurched. Thanks goodness Ken didn't share my weakness. With one quick swing, he cut off that bastard's arm.

"First blood, you bastard. I dare you to come inside. Dare you to--"his words became a high pitched scream when the creature hurled itself at the door. It broke through it halfway, a mass of twitching limbs and torn flesh and wide, cloudy eyes. Ken chopped off her head--it was a she, if those wet tendrils that hung from her head were hair. The head rolled on the floor and bumped into the wall with a wet squelch just as her limp body crashed on the splintered door, impaling herself so good I turned away from the sickening sight.

Deeper, more intense growls came from the stairway. Kenny hacked off the limbs that pushed through the splintered door, pushed his katana through the heads that twisted more than they should towards us to snarl, growl and writhe.

"Zombies," I mumbled. "Fucking zombies."

I nudged Ken's shoulder once, twice, until his head whirled towards me. His eyes bulged, and his fast paced breath terrified me more than the creatures themselves. My brother never killed anybody. He even despised the whimper of puppies, considered them heart wrenching to the point where he had shed tears. And yet, he shook off my grip to hack and slash at the fingers poking through the narrow gaps in the pile of bodies.

"Ken, Ken, Ken," I repeated, until he sheathed his sword and turned towards me with surprising elegance.

"What is it, Matty?" his calm, calculated voice came. "Stay back. I'll handle it. We'll make it through the night, little brother. You think I'd let these bastards through? Inside our own god damn house?"

I grabbed his hand before he managed to unsheathe his katana for a second round of chopping. "Ken, it's fucking zombies. There's a pile of them blocking our door, and we stay right besides it. Can't they like, smell us and shit?"

He nodded and pursed his lips as he entered my room. I locked it for good measure, and Ken slid the desk in front of it to block it. "Good thinking. Now tell me about this eagle, the bullshit-free version if you're so kind."

"Well, I--"I stopped at the loud bang that came from outside, accompanied by a flash of yellow.

"You what? Stole it from Peter Jackson's bestiary?" He hurled himself into my bed and crossed his legs, as if everything was alright with the world.

I sneered at him, and began pacing around to calm my frayed nerves. The explosions, the growls, the screams--they turned me numb, and cold, to the point where I stuttered several times before I got it right. "You know where I do my internship. Clover's bio engineering facility?"

"Aha."

"They enhance animals. Make them bigger, stronger, smarter, that sort of jazz."

"And you, the intern, are in charge of cleaning the poo-poo. I heard that story." He scoffed and threw me a look of disbelief. "Told you that's what their fancy offer truly meant, but you wanted to go anyway."

I rolled my eyes at that and pretended not to hear it. "I helped her escape." I thrust my hand forward to stop my brother from rising. "More like, I escaped with her into Lou's private reserve, the one we always broke into for hide and seek purposes."

"Huh." He raised an eyebrow.

"I flew upon her back. That's what you want to hear? I flew upon her back like Gandalf did, and it sure as hell wasn't the smooth ride they made it seem to be."

"How on earth did you manage to do that without a saddle?"

"I stole one."

"So they're actually..."

"Riding eagles, training tigers to be house pets, teach monkeys how to speak so they can be the perfect servants. All confidential information, but who the fuck gives a damn now. Chances are the facility's been compromised." The realization chilled me. I wrapped my arms around my torso, rubbing sense into my trembling muscles.

Ken's chuckle soothed my tremors somewhat. "Good choice. That's a good place for an eagle, Lou's private reserve." He rolled onto his rump to look at me with warm, sympathetic eyes. "Did you rescue more of those creatures, by any chance?"

I shook my head, and he got up. "Because you didn't ask me for help."

"I didn't--"

He poked my chest so hard I coughed. "Try me next time, little brother. I could've helped you sneak out all those animals, make it seem like a security failure, do everything the way a team should, you and I..." He began ruffling through the closet and turning everything upside down. I let him to it, as long as it kept him busy.

He wanted us to be a team, my older brother. How? Ken only cared about his sports and friends and patronizing me when he got bored of the two aforementioned activities. That's where our team work started, and ended. He had a soft spot for animals, yes, but involving him in my private affairs? I shook my head at that.