There’s No Place Like Home - Michael Robertson



Zombies, Vampires, Aliens, and Oddities - FREE


Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo Lola


The Darkness

Hanging Out


Hang On

Waiting Game

Greasy Pole


Wind Chime

No Rest for the Rich Kid

Run, Lola, Run



Chain Gang

Moving On


Stay With Me

Secret Stash

If Your Name's Not Down

House Guests

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Supply Run


The Wanderer

The Note

Stand Off

Knock Knock



A Good Night's Sleep


Sell Out

The Warehouse




One Fucking Eye Open


Power Shift


Plan B




Pretty in Pink

Barbecue Sauce





Ding Dong, the Witch Ain't Dead




About The Author

Crash III

There’s No Place Like Home


Michael Robertson

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Email: subscribers*michaelrobertson

Edited by:

Terri King - terri-king.wix /editing

Sara Jones - torchbeareredits


Amanda Shore of By The Shore Editing

Cover Design by James at GoOnWrite

Crash III: There’s No Place Like Home

Michael Robertson

© 2015 Michael Robertson

Crash III: There’s No Place Like Home is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, situations, and all dialogue are entirely a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not in any way representative of real people, places or things.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Michael shivered as another frigid gust of wind tore up the abandoned street, cutting through his many layers. He wouldn’t be able to move if he put any more clothes on, but if the temperature dropped any further, he’d freeze to death.

With his head dropped to avoid the cold blast hitting his face, Michael clenched his jaw and continued doing what he’d being doing for weeks now… he walked. One foot in front of the other—just keep going and things would change… they had to.

The moon hung as a sliver in the sky—a fingernail his dad often called it—surrounded by pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of darkness above. For the first few weeks after electricity had stopped working, Michael would go outside each evening and look up at the stars. The light pollution in London before the crash made stargazing impossible.

It wasn’t long, however, before he gave up on that. Knowledge of every constellation visible to the naked eye didn’t have much use in this world.

As Michael walked, he distracted himself by counting his steps. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four… It didn’t take his mind off the surrounding buildings though. Burned out and abandoned, anything could be inside them, watching him as he passed, lying in wait for the right time to pounce. The monsters and murderers used to live under the bed; now, they lived everywhere.

Before he’d heard the engine, Michael caught the glint of headlights behind him. A quick glance and he saw the truck in the distance. “Damn it.”

If he ran, it would look like he had something worth taking. Instead, Michael looked at the ground as he walked. His back wound tight as the approaching sound of the big engine reverberated off the derelict shop fronts.

With his shadow stretching out before him, he continued counting, adrenalin adding a wobble to his already shivering form. One, two, three, four…

The tension in Michael’s back drove a sharp pain up to the base of his skull.

With the vehicle getting closer, the need to run twitched through every muscle in his body. It was them. It had to be them. Should he just run? But what if it was someone else? The last thing they’d care about was a random kid wandering the streets.

When the truck slowed down next to him, Michael fought the urge to look across. They didn’t need to see his face.

The truck got so close he could touch it if he’d wanted to. It slowed to Michael’s walking pace, and the smell of exhaust fumes caused him to scrunch his nose up.

One, two, three, four…

The scrutiny of the truck driver burned into the side of Michael’s head. If they stopped, he would run. Whatever happened, he wasn’t going back there. Now that he’d escaped, they’d never take him again.

Michael saw a park to his left and shook as he glanced into it. The inky blackness seemed impenetrable, but if it meant avoiding the warehouse again, he’d damn well try…

The loud revving of the big block engine made him jump, his heart damn near exploding, but he kept his eyes lowered. As long as they didn’t recognize