HAVING FUN WITH THE UNDEAD
When I first starting writing my TRANSPORT Military adventure series, I wasn’t quite thinking I’d have the shambling Undead wandering about in the background, foreground or side to side. TRANSPORT was originally going to be about a huge armored personnel carrier (the HURON) and its crew and the crap and adventures they’d endure in some kind of a hostile, post-apoc world.
But then I had to figure out WHAT KIND of post-apoc world I wanted them to venture out and about into.
Post-nuclear war devastation? Nah. Cool, promising, but, nah. Technology run amok, sentient robotic beings overtaking and/or fighting against humanity? Hmm, I’ll use that for something else. Zombie apocalypse? Hmmm, yes, that would be cool, but, damn it, I have to make it MY OWN.
Enter the TRANSPORT “world” and storyline in a POST-Post zompocalyptic setting. The initial crisis (viral pandemic) has passed for the most part. Good ole Humanity’s still here. The rotting, walking, moaning carcasses of Humanity are still here. We’re rebuilding, treating each other with reborn tolerance and respect, while skipping gleefully along with our undead brothers and sisters through a field of green grass and black-eyed susans.
Not quite. Not even close.
But I did have some, um, demented fun with my local undead citizenry. In fact, there are undead citizens harbored on the big city of Grand Rapids west side in TRANSPORT. They are fed, and clothed, and city ordinances protect them from being brutalized by the Living. This goes as far as even accidentally, in the throes of panic as the city’s undead family and friends advance, you aren’t supposed to do them bodily harm without the potential of being arrested and fined.
The HURON and crew, when going in for a feeding run, or patrol, have to be sure to maneuver their 72-ton wheeled and tracked vehicle through the streets without mooshing anyone.
Did I mention there is a mission store/house in the heart of the UCRA (Urban Civilian Retention Area) overseen by a big, gun-toting nun and her Holy sisters who administer aid to the local teetering denizens.
Billet looked at the pair, a picture flashing in his mind’s eye of his late wife and son. These two weren’t them; his son had been much older when he’d been lost. Judging by the stump of a small arm in a torn, frilly sleeve in the woman’s right hand—she seemed unaware and not alarmed she was missing a child—the family had been larger than his anyway.
Sister Mirose lifted a solid forearm, scarred red with bite marks. She stopped the undead woman before she walked by the building. The woman and child sniffed at both her and Billet, but showed no sign of hostility.
“Inside now. Sister Terese will see you.” The big nun said, turning the woman towards the open door behind her.
The woman and boy, and bodiless small forearm, teetered and wobbled into the Apostolate.
The HURON’s driver, LCpl Loutonia Phelps, is schooled in several dialects including ZOMBIE. She uses her training to get Intel from one of the undead locals during their excursions into the UCRA. This particle Zee is what they refer to as a “Satellite Zombie.” For whatever reason, he picks up “transmissions” from both the local and Ferals, informing Phelps of any abnormal situations inside and outside the city when it comes to other Undead.
Mumbling unidentifiable words, Bob drooled a line of bloody spittle to punctuate his statement. He moved his hands and arms about as if mired in molasses, yet with gestures like a frustrated mute explaining something, trying to get his point across.
Phelps leaned in, listening to the gurgles and halting grunts and groans.
She interpreted: “Marauders detonated…section of Interstate 96…between Coopersville and Nunica…”
“Yes. Old news. Two year old news.” Billet responded. He thought he saw a curtain move in a second floor window of the sagging house across the street.
“Current news. M-45. Between Grand Rapids and Grand Haven,” Billet said at Bob who continued to grumble and gesture.
He knew it took a while for those rotted cogs to turn in the undead man’s head.
Jake looked up at that same window again. This time he watched as the tattered curtain fall back into place.
Bob coughed violently, and continued “talking.”
Loutonia continued to listen with a grimace, wiping foul spittle from the front of her uniform.
It all seems pretty humorous, how I have depicted MY zombie populace. It isn’t all sunshine and unicorns pissing raindows as you will discover if you read the TRANSPORT series. Like I said, I wanted to change things up a bit, and not have it all be standard zombie fare.
I had my fun with the Undead theme in my own sinister sort of way.
Okay, now I know your undead are seriously undead, and I'm eager to read more. Thank you for introducing us, Peter! And here's some more information for readers - where to find you, where to find the books, and how to follow the tour.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Welmerink (www.peterwelmerink.com) was born and raised on the west side of pre-apocalyptic Grand Rapids, Michigan. He loves his hometown and West Michigan, which is why he writes about it. He writes Fantasy, Military SciFi, and other wanderings into action-adventure. His work has been published in ye olde wood pulp print and electronic-online publications. He is the co-author of the Viking berserker novel, BEDLAM UNLEASHED, written with Steven Shrewsbury. TRANSPORT is his first solo novel venture. He is married with a small barbarian tribe of three boys.
FIND OUT MORE: CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
grandrapidsaltered.blogspot.com (TRANSPORT-related posts)
darkheroicfantasy.blogspot.com (author interviews and all things fantastical)
FIND OUT MORE: FOLLOW THE TOUR
9/21 A Work In Progress Interview
9/21 I Smell Sheep Guest Post
9/21 Beauty in Ruins Guest Post
9/21 shells interviews Guest Post
9/23 Book in the Bag Interview
9/23 Sheila Deeth Book Blog Guest Post
9/24 Bee's Knees Reviews Review
9/25 WebbWeaver Reviews Guest Post
9/26 Vampires, Witches, & Me Oh My Top Tens List
9/26 fuonlyknew Review
9/27 Coffintree Hill Guest Post
9/27 Armand Rosamilia, Author Guest Post
FIND OUT MORE: READ THE BOOKS
TRANSPORT (Book One)
Barnes & Noble
TRANSPORT (Book Two) HUNT FOR THE FALLEN
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TRANSPORT (Book Three) UNCIVIL WAR
Find Out More About Book Two: Hunt for the Fallen:
Captain Jacob Billet Journal Entry - Sunday April 5, 2026
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the undead are roaring…
Amassed at the UCRA east end enclosure, the dead strain the fence line while soldiers keep watchful eyes, the survivors on the opposite side of the rising river about to lose their minds.
It’s a crazy time: nonstop precipitation; everyone's up in arms; paranoid city council members with an asshat City Treasurer. Water, water everywhere. Zees dropping into the churning drink. Troops afraid of being stitched up and thrown back into the fray as Zombie Troopers. Tank commanders getting itchy to head out on their own after drug-laden shamblers. Reganshire insurgents trying to extract our west side civvies for some unknown reason, possibly pushing the city into taking heavy-handed action against them.
Then there’s some black-haired dead dude staring at me through the fence, grinning like he’s off his meds.
And I thought Lettner was a headache.
All this sh*t might give me a heart attack.