Jamal Luckett's Amazon Page

Jamal Luckett's Amazon Page
Current list of Published works.

Monday, January 1, 2018

Going Green

  “Police are cautioning all residents to stay in their homes.” The golden-haired newscaster on the small television tells his viewing audience. “If you must evacuate your home please head to one the designated military safe zones.” News anchor continues shuffling papers in his hands. The thin man in the room slowly moves away from the TV. He tiptoes on the balls of his feets to the window of his darkened home. Drawing back the curtain with two very shaky fingers. He scans the street out front of his single level ranch home. The man is treated to an up close and personal view of the mayhem on the street. From next door screams of agony erupt like an exploding geyser. He sees his neighbor Al clinging desperately to a small silver chain link fence. On his back, a man rides him to the ground. The bloodied figure bites down on Al’s exposed neck. Even as Al’s wails reach their crescendo. The man greedily tears away chunks of flesh from his helpless victim. The man in the house watches “the infected people” as the newscaster had called them. They converge on Al; his shrieks only seem to draw more of them out of the shadows. A bloody hand slaps the window before him. Its followed by a bloodcurdling moan. The man falls backwards cartwheeling over his tattered green couch. “Come on Brody gets together.” The man prods himself up as the window crashes inward. Brody as a self-professed pacifist. Did not have anything that, he could remotely use as a weapon. He moved through the tiny house past the kitchen counter. The sound of glass shattering comes from all around him. Brody snags his cars keys not looking back. Cautiously he opens his back door. “All clear” he sighs opening the door wider. 

  He sees his sleek black electric car sitting in its charging port. Brody unhooks his automobile from its charging station. He’s diligently attempting to be quiet. Well as quiet as his jittery nerves will allow. He smiles to himself as he gets in tiny car. With an experienced twist of his wrist, the car hums to life. The dashboard readout shows “full charge” in green. A mangled hand slaps the car’s trunk. To his horror it was his zombie friend from earlier. Except now the zombie was an even more ghastly sight. Jagged shards of glass jut out the ambling zombie at odd angles. Now the undead walking corpse has brought company. Zombies pour from his house like angry bees leaving a hive. Brody throws the car in reverse. He mows the undead under as he goes. Bodies pelt the car from every direction. He does not look up until he finds himself in the street. Driving away in a panic without looking back. He turns a corner to see an overrun gas station. The slaughter laid out before him is horrific. As the dead feast on the living. Yet amid all this carnage more cars continue to pull into the chaos of the gas station. The zombies beset anything living tearing warm human bodies apart with teeth and hands. Most of these vehicle’s occupants don’t last more than a few fleeting seconds. Before they are drug screaming from their cars and devoured. “Go green” Brody finds himself chuckling as he negotiates around the horror. “Where was that safe zone again?” He asks himself. Gleefully tapping the directions in on the car’s glowing GPS display. “Two hundred two miles to safety,” he says joyfully. He finds the open road. Taking time to breathe Brody slides a CD of classical music into the dash. Then he kicks the a/c up to drive some of the humidity from the sticky hot night. Driving through the night, he passes truck stops and gas stations along the way. Hours pass by Brody’s tired dry eyes. He ignores the slaughter all around him from the safety of his car. Finally, Brody sees a road sign up ahead as the Sun began to rise in the East. In the distance, he sees big floodlights beating back the darkness. The military had drawn a line in the sand. They held the undead at bay as sure as the light held back the darkness. “Made it” Brody whispered to himself with a satisfied grin. In darkness up ahead, shadows begin to emerge. Not by ones and twos but by the dozen. 

    A double chime dings out in the car’s comfortable interior. The once green battery display light was now a faint sliver of red. It now blinked an ominous “Low Battery.” Like dramatic music playing in a horror movie. As the killer closes in on his victim. “Please no,” Brody whined. His shiny black car loses power. It begins to coast to a stop. Coming to rest at the rear phalanx of a massive throng of walking corpses. The zombies take notice of the car that has come to rest in their midst. Slowly they press in from all sides. A final fluttering of the headlights like delicate moth wings tearing. Suddenly he’s plunged into absolute darkness. The weight of hundreds of decayed bodies buffet the car as if it were a tiny boat. Caught in the merciless savage winds of a typhoon. Brody slinks down to the floor curling up with tears in his eyes. The zombies are not fooled by his vanishing act. The onslaught continues until the windows of the car shatter. The dead slither into the car. The way maggots do on an animals mangled carcass left on the side of the road. Their moaning rising like the morning sun. Brody’s first howl of pain comes as a zombie bites down on his exposed arm. “No, get away.” He pleads to the moaning undead slithering over him. Brody’s wails of agony go unheard. The undead have their fill of his flesh. As they wash over the car in one final diseased surge of hunger.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

The Rental

  “We were making pretty good time Laura. Until we got redirected by the GPS” He says to his wife. Looking at the GPS app pulled up on his phone. He gives it the disdainful glance of a spouse. Forced to take back an adulterous partner. The woman riding in the passenger seat sits back. Having just turned the satellite radio to the seventies station. “Well, James like I told you.” She uncaps a bottle of soda taking a swig. “I just didn’t want to be in some backwoods town when the sun went down.” He chuckles as the shiny sleek grey minivan speeds down the interstate. He had fallen in love like most folks with a rental car. This was pure automotive heaven compared to his ten-year-old minivan sitting at home. They had rented this beauty to drive from Illinois to Alabama for their daughter’s wedding. Now they were heading home. Midnight was approaching as they came upon Nashville. South, I-65 was bordered by thick dense forest on either side of the road. On the east side of the road in the distance. The city lights sparkled like multi colored jewels laid out on pristine black velvet. Nashville was separated from I-65 by several miles of trees and open fields. Where the land slopped gently down to the city. “Anybody hungry?” Laura calls back to their children. She opens a blue cooler as a chorus of “I am” and “me” erupt from the back seat. “Jordan,” Laura says passing two sandwiches to their teenage son. “Pass those back to Joslin and Jalen.” The boy does as instructed handing food back to his giggling younger sisters. “I just want an apple mom.” Their oldest Susan blurts from the seat behind Laura. The minivan begins to decelerate quickly. “Why are we slowing?” Laura turns bracing herself against dashboard. “Ugh, I think we are coming up on some night road construction.” He sighs through gritted teeth. Ahead of them, a line of red brake lights stretching out like a string of Christmas lights. They go from cruising to a complete stop in less than a minute. The cars on the Interstate now idle bumper to bumper. He shuts off the car in frustration. Staring in disbelief James sees the once green route traced out on his phone’s GPS app. Now blinking the dark red of delay and gridlock. The dense dark forest dances with glimmering red shadows cast off by the multitude of brake lights.

   Without warning and intense ball of flames shoots into the night sky over Nashville. The entire family whips their heads in the direction of the blast almost in unison. A greasy black cloud of smoke billows up against the night sky like an oil stain on a black shirt. “What the ….” James shouts as his younger daughters’ yelp in terror. The minivan rocks softly as the blast waves reaches them with a muted “boom.” “Good Lord …” Jordan begins from behind his father. “Look at all the emergency lights.” Below them, scattered about the cityscape strobing lights materialize out of the distant inky darkness. As if they have been summoned by magic. In the blink of an eye with the speed of someone tossing a match in a puddle of gas. Three more rapid fire explosions dot the city’s beautiful skyline. Below them in the distance. The city of Nashville is infected with pockets of ravenous yellow flames. They are drawn back to the here and now by a slap on the van’s windshield. All at once everyone in the van screams in horror. A bloodied man the skin on his face in tatters. Slaps the window on Laura’s side of the van. The woman unclasps her seatbelt and in one panicked motion leaps into her husband’s lap. James lets his gaze settle on the blood-soaked man. Suddenly baring his teeth. The man snarls like a rabid animal. A brackish thick foamy rivulet of saliva pours from his mouth. In the rear of the van, the younger girls begin to wail for their mother. The man slaps the passenger side window with a bloodied palm. He pounds the window repeatedly. Leaving behind an abstract portrait of bloody smears. On the once pristine window. Behind the man, a second man appears. Having exited an idling big rig in the next lane. “Hey, buddy …” is all the hefty truck driver gets out. The man pounding on the window snaps to as if touched by a cattle prod. Roaring the bloodied man pounces on the burly man, driving the trucker to the ground. A scream, unlike anything anyone in the van has ever heard a human make. Cascades into the night sky as the man atop the trucker. Tears away a large portion of the trucker’s right cheek with his teeth.

  A new wave of screams bounces around the interior of the minivan. Punctuated by an eight-year-old Joslin. Who hollers “zombie” at the top of her lungs. James finds his mind following a disjointed fractured path. It briefly goes back to his wife scolding him. After allowing their baby girl to watch him play a zombie themed video game. As his eyes focus pulling away from the past and back to the present. His heart leaps hard enough in his chest to cause him physical pain. Across the road from where they sit. Dozens upon dozens of figures are staggering from the pitch-black woods. This shuffling, wailing mass of figures plunge onto the asphalt of I-65 in waves. Attacking anything living like fire ants consuming all in their path. People caught outside their cars are defenseless against the onslaught. Soon the family is surrounded by screams and chaos on all sides. These crazed people, he refuses to admit they are possibly the undead. As his eight-year-old has insinuated. They cover the road breaking in vehicles. The dead work attacking with an uncoordinated frenzy. It requires no thinking just pure primal instinct. As one helpless person after another is dragged from their vehicle. Then brutally torn to shreds by gnashing teeth and filthy clawing fingers. While yet others die screaming. As these monstrous beings’ pile into their vehicles to get at their warm flesh. With his wife still on his lap, James sees his teenage daughter in the rear of the van. A woman with a savage neck wound. Is clawing at the window screeching as she attempts get at the girl. Jalen terrified at the woman’s face and with tears running down her cheeks. She presses her jacket up to the window covering the woman’s face. Attempting to his from the woman outside. “Dadddddd” Jalen calls. Before James can move, he watches the woman outside the van loose interest in his daughter. Instead, the ragged woman moans turning away. She shuffles away two cars over to a woman who is standing on the roof of her car. The blonde woman on top of the car is surrounded. She cradles a tiny yapping dog in her arms. The agitated crowd of zombies besiege the car on all sides as the woman cries for help. They begin to rock the car. This causes the woman and her dog to topple head first into hungry crowd below. “Cover the windows,” James yells as he makes eye contact with a pack of crazed figures headed their way.

  He grabs the windshield sun cover the rental car company had provided from the center console. The metallic green cover is emblazoned with the company’s orange swoosh logo. It unfurls like an umbrella as he jams it into place with second to spare. The Lawson family demolishes the contents of the car. Frantically covering the windows obscuring their attackers view. Two dozen sets of bloodied hands began to pound on the rental’s exterior. They use everything from Laura’s formal pink dress to their pillows and covers. Soon the interior of the car in cast into a deep black claustrophobic darkness. The pounding slowly ceases as the moans drift away fading into the night. The family is huddled in the center of the van doors locked. From the middle of the pile, someone starts praying softly. They compress themselves in together. From somewhere close by a massive engine revs. This is followed by the unmistakable sounds of a semi truck’s engine dropping into gear. The massive truck comes to life. With only their ears to tell the story. The horrendous shriek of metal rending rings out. The van jostles as it’s pushed sideways. Someone whimpers inside the van. “Its ok, its ok” James soothes his family wrapped in his arms. Outside the world descends into chaos. The sound of the diesel battering ram carrying into the distance. The night goes by slowly. Serenading the terrified family with a soundtrack of screams, sirens, gun shots, moans, and explosions. All the sounds one would associate the world falling to its knees.

 Tense hours pass by like years in the van. A thin shaft of sunlight cast across the roof of the rental awakens James. He pulls away from his family and positions himself to peek out the window. In the door’s armrest, he sees his phone. He grabs it tapping the screen to wake the device up. The GPS app is still running. It shows the road to home is still impassable. It advises a U-turn as the northbound lanes are free. Operating on muscle memory alone, his thumb refreshes the GPS app. He sees a text message from twenty minutes ago. Its his newlywed daughter back in Illinois, Kayla. “Dad, Bob and I have been trying to call you guys. News is talking about zombies and outbreaks like all over the south. Turn around come back here. Praying you guys are safe call me please.” He can see a few zombies walking aimlessly about through the slit. The road before them is dead figuratively and literally. Something large has plowed a clear path in the next lane over. The other side of the I-65 leading back north is open and clear. The line of his daughter’s text resonates in his mind. “Turn around …” “Wake up” he whispers to is family. Cranking the engine up. The van starts with a smooth growl. James rips the window screen down. As he steers the car over debris in the road. Plunging the now dented grey gore covered minivan into the soft grassy median.  Directly before him, he can see Nashville. Wicked black tendrils of smoke waft upwards from the dying city. The smoke threatening to obscure the brilliant early morning sun. He runs over two filthy figures crouched in the high grass tearing at something meaty and pink. Once he hits the open road on the opposite side, he guns the engine. The only obstacles he can see are rogue packs of zombies scattered about. The dead meander on legs stiffened by rigor and injuries. The van passes them by with ease. “What are we doing?” Laura asks panic still etched across her beautiful brown features. He hands her his phone without speaking. Eyes locked on the road passing a green sign reading “Illinois 150 miles.”

Saturday, October 28, 2017



       “Hey, Ms. Ye I’m done for the evening.” The young Asian woman nods “Thank you, Mr. Smith ….” The black man’s bald head seems to hang in the space between the classroom’s partially open door. “No problem I’ll be waiting by the door down in the east hallway to walk you to your car?” She reaches for the silver forearm crutches propped against her desk. The crutches were as much a part of her glasses were. She had used them since she was a child thanks to a genetic birth defect “I would appreciate that very much” She responds. With that, the man disappears from the door. The sound of his massive engineer’s key ring echoes down the deserted hallway. The sound of his keys reminded her of sleigh bells at Christmas. She is vaguely aware of the noise bouncing off the shatterproof opaque windows of the school building. “There are sure a lot of sirens tonight.” She thinks to herself that it is not out of the ordinary for this part of town. Fawn was miffed at herself for staying at work so late again. She slides her forearms into the cuffs with ease. As her hands grasp the black handles, she hears a scream carry down the hall to her ears. A horrible and hollow sound. The echo cascading down the hallway towards her. “Mr. Smith” She calls out struggling to her feet. Fawn wrestles the door to her classroom open. Down at the end of the hall in a cone of light, she can see the engineer laying on the white tiled floor. A figure kneels over him their face down near him. She assumes giving first aid to the engineer.

    She hobbles towards figures on her feeble legs the crutches supporting most of her weight. A rhythmic clapping of the crutches on the weathered tile floor. Signals her approach. “Mr. Smith” She fumbles breathlessly nearing the scene. Blood pools underneath the figure hunched above the big black man in the grimy engineer’s uniform. The young male leaning over Mr. Smith whirls about. Blood covers his face from the chin down. Huge goblets drop off, his chin. They land in the widening crimson puddle at his feet. “Oh God” She cries staggering backwards until she hits a wall sliding down. Fawn Ye vaguely recognizes the boy from around the school. He climbs awkwardly to his feet. With sickly spoiled milk colored locking on to her. Drunkenly he sways in place. With a deep moan, he starts making his way towards her.  Arms outstretched blood caked fingers working like arthritic spiders. Fawn raises up a crutch defensively as the boy falls forward mouth open. His clumsy momentum carries him downward. He hits the apparatus face first. His full weight drives the aluminum crutch through his eye socket. Fawn screams out as the boy goes limp. She dumps him to the side yanking her crutch free. Fawn fights to her feet steadying herself. From behind her, comes a deep powerful moan. Fawn turns on her crutches to see Mr. Smith his neck torn open the wound rimmed with sticky congealing blood. “Mister ….” She says hopefully but to no avail. The large man lurches for her his eyes now white and dead. Fawn can see the metal windowless exit doors just behind him. Cursing her lame legs Fawn acts out of instinct. She plants her crutches bracing herself. Fawn Ye kicks out with all the strength both her crippled legs can muster. Her legs have just enough force to drive the heavy man backwards. She tumbles to the floor watching Mr. Smith fall backwards. Just as he hits the door, his key ring clatters to the floor and then he is gone. Fawn begins to commando crawl for the open door. She moves through the warm gummy blood on the floor. Reaching up for the door, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She takes a brief look outside. Stumbling dark shapes swarm the parking lot. Fawn yanks the door closed as Mr. Smith sits up. She feels the door shake in her hands. Thunderous pounding from the other side rattles the door in its frame. Without thinking, Fawn flips a crutch around jamming it through the handles of the door as a brace. The assault from the outside continues. After several breathless minutes, Fawn finds one of the keys that locks the door. As pounding coming from the other side grows louder. Fawn limps backwards turning around holding onto the wall for support. On palsied legs, she stands staring into the empty darkness alone. 

Monday, March 14, 2016

All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse by Shannon Walters et al.


The Chronology of the Apocalypse is a new anthology. It is brought to you by the fine folks over at ATZ (All Things Zombie). The zombie themed anthology follows the zombie apocalypse from its unknown beginning to its bitter end.

  Featuring and all new story me entitled "The Monitor." One man gets to watch the zombie apocalypse unfold from his comfy office at work!

Check it out!

Friday, August 29, 2014

Survivor Journals!


An awesome #zombie themed audio drama with some voice work done by yours truly.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Meet The Lucketts

  The emergency broadcast tone blared out from the television. The Lucketts stand haphazardly around the large black box. They had been enjoying a time-honored tradition of watching midday cartoons with the baby before the interruption. The youngest member of the clan leaps into the safety of her mother’s embrace. The seven of them were now transfixed as the blond haired local newscaster from “Channel 13” interrupted their daily routine. He cleared his throat softly his gaze never leaving the camera.  The man’s sickly blue eyes bored a hole into his viewing audience. “It has been confirmed through multiple sources that by some as yet unknown means. The dead are reanimating, returning to life, and attacking the living.” The man on the television let his words hang there in the air. “This is it!” Daddy Luckett shouted gathering his family near. “Kyle and Jaden food stuffs go.” He ordered his two middle daughters. “Sarah upstairs medicine bag go.” He barked to his eldest. “Lorraine you …” He called stopping to see where his wife had gone. “Over here J” She called from the tiny front hall closet of their townhouse. She busied herself donning a harness to carry the baby. “Ok Jorge you’re with me on weapons detail son. “Rally at the front door in five everybody knows the drill.”


    With that, they scatter about the two-story prefab home leaving the commentator on the television at least in this house without an audience. The anchor on the television droned on about the reported zombie sightings across the city and country as well. Four minutes pass before the Lucketts meet back up at their designated rally point. “Alright” J calls out to his family. “Honey” He begins handing his wife two black pistols. “Spare clips are in the diaper bag.” He points to the pink flower covered bag hanging from her shoulder. “Daddy” the baby strapped to her chest coos. “Sarah here you go,” He says giving his oldest daughter her shotgun. “And Kyle this is for you.” J continues placing a small black machine gun into Kyle’s hands. “Jorge” He calls to his only son a solidly built preteen who is bigger than some men are. “I’m here dad” The boy holds up his camouflaged compound bow. He has a matching quiver of arrows fit snugly across his right shoulder. The best graduation gift any kid ever received. “Annnd Jaden” He says looking around to find his eleven-year-old daughter. “Here dad here over here” The wiry tween bounces her hand raised high. “This is yours” He give her a polished black wooden baseball bat. “You remember how were practiced right?” He quizzes the girl. “Yep … yep” is her typical response. He pulls a large black backpack over his shoulders. “Just like we practiced team Luckett.” He draws the slide back on the assault rifle in his hands. “We get to the compound the rest of the team will meet us there.” J looks around at his family. He thinks of all the times that he drilled them in preparation for the zombie apocalypse. Even when their neighbors had laughed at them, they did not stop. Like a modern day “Noah,” he prepared his family for a day most scoffed “would never come.” None of that mattered now it was game time. “J we need to assess the situation before we just charge outside.” Lorraine reminded him as he searched his pockets for the keys to their minivan.


    The family moved as a unit to the glass patio doors. “Sarah turn the TV off please” J said seconds later the noisy broadcast was no more.  J takes the barrel of his rifle and gently parts the blinds slightly. The scene outside their door was pure chaos. Homes in the next apartment complex over the battered wooden fence burned engulfed by roiling flames. Smoke filled the air as a lone bloodied figure shuffled between them and their van parked up a slight hill. “Ok we got one zombie in the lot that I can see.” He cranes his neck attempting to peer as far out into the blind spot on his left as he could. “Okay Lucketts we have ourselves a classic ten twenty eight.” He announces. “No way are dad you kidding me.” Sarah calls from behind him. “Ummm we clearly have a nine fourteen are you blind?” J looks back to his oldest. “Sarah no way you’re nuts!” Kyle interjects. “It can’t be a nine fourteen it’s not night.” She moves up to peer through the blinds. “One zombie contact, no other victims we can see, and its late afternoon.” Kyle smirks “I say this is a clear ten twenty one.” Lorraine squeezes past her kids leaning over her husband’s shoulder. From the slit in the blind, she observes the lone zombie. The dead man with his wild red hair is simply standing swaying in place. Lorraine wonders why the walking corpse has not wandered away by itself. “You’re wrong here daughter.” She tells Kyle turning back over her shoulder. “The zombies have no idea we are here. Which means we still have the element of surprise. We have found ourselves in a seven nine sixty five.” Jorge peeks out the blinds for himself. He watches the fires rage unchecked over the fence. “I’m sorry mom and dad” Jorge speaks up. “It’s a five eleven guys there’s no police or emergency personnel present.” Lorraine sighs “J honey why the hell do we have some many damn codes?” She says clearly frustrated “Well honey …”J has his words cut off mid sentence as the front door bangs open.


    He watches Jaden as she bolts down the narrow concrete walk way. “It’s a one fourteen.” The girl utters like a battle cry. She runs forward bat held high over her head. Jaden updates her family on the run. “There’s a zombie on the ground too guys.” The zombie lurches towards the girl with an angry moan. She unleashes a wicked blow to the corpse’s knees. It goes down leaving its head exposed for the finishing blow. Jaden caves the zombie’s head in dropping it to the ground. “Jaden” Lorraine yells in panic. J pulverizes the glass in the patio leaping out. The rest of his family pours out behind him. Form their blind spot on the left side of the house there was movement. A half dozen zombies move in on the Lucketts. Out of nowhere a battered, gore, covered white car bounces over the curb. It skids sideways in the soft grass. A short husky man exits the driver’s side door guns blazing. Firing a pistol from each hand with a barrage of bullets, he cuts down the zombies. The gunshots stop and the man faces the family. “Uncle Ben!” Jaden screams running leaping into her uncle’s arms. “Where’s this compound you’re always telling me about?” J begins to relax coming over to his brother. “Everybody in we need to head out.” J looks out over their subdivision and sees the undead beginning to filter from open doors, backyards, and garages. The zombie apocalypse has sown its seeds across the globe. The Lucketts have made plans to beat back the undead harvest.