Benny Writeman was a peaceful artist who lived in a small Indiana town with his lovely wife, Autumn. But, when his wife is murdered, then returns from the dead and reveals her murder must be avenged before she can truly rest, he drags her ghost across the country on the hunt for the vampires responsible. With the help of his brother, Jack and their father, Frank, they leave an ever mounting trail of carnage behind as they confront nightmarish creatures around every corner, only to discover a heartbreaking truth at the end of their journey.
A starving artist trapped in an overeaters body, Derek A. Schneider is a devoted husband and father of two beautiful boys living and working out of Camby, Indiana. His love of classic horror movies and literature is inspiration for his own brand of frightening tales that are energized with intense action and untamed, often tragic romance. After co-writing and supplying the artwork for a little known, very independent comic book that was eventually put on hold, he decided to focus all of his energy on writing. Avenging Autumn is his first book and was heavily inspired by various musical artist, many of whom are mentioned in the pages of the book. Derek is currently busy working on the sequel to Avenging Autumn as well as another novel that deals heavily with ghosts and the afterlife.
As the werewolves drew closer, they began to swipe at them with long, hideous claws. They didn’t seem to be mindless killers at all, but organized, intelligent beings.
Suddenly the werewolves were coming at them in waves, and Frank and Jack both knew the next time they ran out of bullets, they were dead.
One of Frank’s .45’s blew a gaping hole in a werewolf’s chest, while another’s eye exploded from Jack’s 9mm slug. This one’s throat erupted in a volcanic shower of blood. That one’s crotch caught a searing round and it let out a high pitched squeal as it fell. This one got the 45 point blank in the mouth, covering the monster behind it with brain and shattered teeth. That one got the 9mm point blank and it’s heart disintegrated in it’s chest. On and on it went until finally, Frank and Jack’s guns were clicking on empty chambers.
This was it.
Both men knew they were about to die.
Jack closed his eyes, while Frank only stared up defiantly at the werewolf in front of him, it’s claw raised in preparation of tearing the old man’s face off.