When they predicted the apocalypse on December 21, 2012, nobody expected it would come in the form of the walking dead.  Being in New Orleans where the dead were buried above ground meant that they showed up sooner than in most other places.  The people of the Big Easy woke up on December 22^nd, thinking the worse thing they had to deal with was finishing their Christmas shopping.  Instead as they left their homes to get into their cars many of them found themselves short a few brains.

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Awarded on May 30th, 2012. Congratulations to authors Mike Buckendorf and WPM on winning the tenth Tales of the Zombie War contest with their stories Fear and Loathing in the DMZ and Of Mice and Rabbits. Their stories will be featured on our home page, and will gain the coveted Contest Winner tag.

The quality of submissions we receive continues to astound. Thank you all for writing and reading.

LEAD THEM TO VICTORY

The sky was bruised, wounded and heavy. Gravid clouds wallowed menacingly above the unsightly concrete stain of a retail park. Thunder growled and lightning split the horizon as indistinct figures moved despondently through the deepening gloom, shambling to and from the various shops and fast food outlets. Unintelligible murmurings caught the wind, orphaned and wretched.  Assorted vehicles, seemingly discarded by lackadaisical owners who no longer had need of them, lay dotted over the vast parking area, lending the scene an irrefutable air of neglect and decay. (more…)

“Down on your knees,” the nameless Minister commanded over the shortwave. “Beg the almighty for your forgiveness. God’s army has come. Glory. Oh brilliant fucking glory. God’s army has come. His angels wear the dead. This is God’s war now.”

Sergeant Leon Crane lowered the volume on the short wave in case the bodies could hear the Minister shouting. For three straight days this revelator had preached over the air, not pausing for sleep or food, just moments of silence while he sipped his coffee. The old preacher must have stockpiled a case of Maxwell House in preparation for the apocalypse. (more…)

He’d promised her to take care of her forever and she damned well intended to hold him to that promise.

Beulah placed the old Glock on the pitted surface of the table and took a seat. A bulb hung from the low ceiling by two thin wires, casting sporadic light almost as far as the cinder block walls that framed the room around her. The growl of the generator in the distance sputtered and she had just enough time to pick out the incessant drone from the dead outside the fence before the machine’s engine caught and drowned them out once more.

Tough times just get tougher, she thought. Just the way the world works now. (more…)

On Saturday morning two very excited men arrived at my house so we could rock up to Daresbury in the north of England to visit Zed Events – The Manor. One was a bouncing Big Rich, 6 foot 8 of enthusiastic Zombie fan. The other our very own young Scott Berryman who, rather than being a wannabe soldier like us, is actually in the military.

Our mode of transport was a bright orange G4 Land Rover, packed by Big Rich with everything you would need to survive the apocalypse such as Shovels, axes etc. None of which would actually be required but we felt it was important to look the part.

Big Rich posing by the Orange Love Bus

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Tap, tap, tap.

Once again I find myself stood at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the only way out of my prison. Like a salmon returning to the spawning grounds I seem to find myself drawn there by instinct. I don’t even remember getting out of the chair and walking this far.

The tapping happens every day, never at the same time, but always on a daily basis, tapping at the only way in or out of my bunker. (more…)

Sequel to FOR CAROYLN

For almost all my life, my ma told me that my daddy had died a hero.

Carolyn, you were very little then. I was in the cabin with you and your father was outside chopping wood when he heard them. They were all around the cabin. They had surrounded us without us knowing it. And your dad, he took his axe and he went to work and they all went down like bowling pins, one after the other. (more…)

Usually Rachel Harding did not want to go to her brother Joshie’s birthday party. This year was different. She had finally figured out what to get him.

Rachel made sure her parents did not see the change in her. She took as long in the shower as she usually did. She hesitated between two dresses before deciding on a third. She intentionally left her backpack-slash-purse up in her room so she had to run back for it. She slipped her birthday present for her brother into the backpack and then pouted down the stairs and out to the car.

“Really, darling, I don’t understand why you make such a fuss.” Her father’s seatbelt clicked with a sense of finality. “It’s only twice a year.” (more…)

SEQUEL TO PART 1

“Turning our tortures into horrid arms”

Martin cycled through the air, dropping easily over the gap between the two buildings. He started to twist as he fell, desperately trying to right himself, and after falling for long, breathless seconds, he hit the roof of the building fully side on. Pain exploded up his body as he skidded along the gravel. Finally, as he ground to a stop, blackness took him and he could taste the iron saltiness of blood in his mouth. (more…)