Paulie limped painfully across the broad tidal flats of this barren windswept bay and struggled to recall his Granny’s comforting voice. The simple act of breathing the strong salty air hurt his badly injured ribs. The tide had pulled the weak little wavelets way, way out; miles out it seemed to him – and hanging there, motionless above the grumbling of the waters, loomed a huge ochre moon. Beneath its baleful radiance the sea was nothing more than a distant threadlike slice separating sand from sky. (more…)

Books are like mile-markers in my history. I departed for Navy bootcamp reading Dante’s Inferno (“Abandon hope, all who enter here”–coincidence?). I discovered Lovecraft at the base library in Naples, Italy. Hemingway’s short stories in one volume bridged me back to civilian life after eight years of wearing the crackerjacks. And during my first and only October as a headset-wearing message-relayer with National Communications, I was in the middle of The Phantom of the Opera.

(more…)

“Do you think that they’re intelligent?” Whispered, in the darkness.

“Zombies are practically by definition unintelligent. They’re human beings minus intelligence. People reduced to their appetites and passions.”

“No. Not passions. They’re entirely devoid of passion. That’s part of why we’re so afraid of them. That and the fact that they want to eat our brains.”

“This isn’t Plants vs. Zombies. The whole ‘brains’ thing is just a cheesy stereotype. They’re cannibals but they’ll probably take your arm just as happily as your frontal lobe.”

(more…)

Alex clasped his hands together and splashed the cool water over his face, pausing to let the beads of water drip off. The refreshing water was much needed after yet another uncomfortable rest. His back ached, his neck ached, his legs were still spent from the constant traveling. Another splash to his face was enough as he traveled a few yards away from the river to where Beans was rummaging through one of their ruck sacks. The expression on her face was all that was needed to put Alex’s stomach into knots. He knew what she was thinking. As he walked through the green grass Beans looked up, and it broke Alex’s heart.

(more…)

“Now, what kind of ceremony did you have in mind? Did you want a traditional burial or a reawakening?”

The two women, mother and daughter, exchanged a look. “We’re very traditional people,” the mother, Elizabeth Reed, said. “I think we’ll just go with a burial.”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said, keeping my voice soft and even, trying not to show how desperately I needed this to work out. The rising of the dead had not been easy on my business. After the cemeteries had opened, sending the dead staggering out onto our grounds, destroying the property, most of the family had left. Once, we’d been Walters, Gambol, and Sons. Now, it was just me, Rebecca Gambol, not even one of the sons. It figured.

(more…)

Chester grabbed the feet of the first body in the pile while Will grabbed it just under the armpit. Chester had on a pair of HazMat gloves, reaching up above his brown elbow. Will was an older white man, in his forties with a gray and brown beard that covered most of his neck. The man was twice as broad as Chester, easily. (more…)

Betrayal, revenge and murder; lovely meaty sounding terms, eh? They’re such thrilling, blood dripping and juicy words that I’ve always loved, but only in fiction of course. I mean… I never thought, not for one second, that I’d ever become the central character in such a terrible story myself, but I have. And that’s the thought that runs through my mind as I move sneakily up behind Tommy O’Brien to push him over the edge of this high sea cliff. (more…)

Jack hadn’t eaten in two years. There was no point – his digestive system no longer worked properly. Even so, this afternoon his stomach was churning.

Or he imagined it. The mind is a funny thing.

Is this what nausea feels like? he asked himself, rattling his leg up and down to shake out the nerves; his knee cracked musically. Drawn by curiosity, his waiting room companion – there was only room for two – regarded Jack from the corner of his eye then quickly turned away.

Jack knew the man was afraid. (more…)

“Now, what kind of ceremony did you have in mind? Did you want a traditional burial or a reawakening?”

The two women, mother and daughter, exchanged a look. “We’re very traditional people,” the mother, Elizabeth Reed, said. “I think we’ll just go with a burial.”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said, keeping my voice soft and even, trying not to show how desperately I needed this to work out. The rising of the dead had not been easy on my business. After the cemeteries had opened, sending the dead staggering out onto our grounds and destroying the property, most of the family had left. Once, we’d been Walters, Gambol, and Sons. Now, it was just me, Rebecca Gambol, not even one of the sons. It figured. (more…)

Their wedding picture, spattered with her blood, kept him company when he couldn’t bear to look at her. The plague now confined him to his home, and one look out the window showed him a staggering, shifting army of half-rotted people, their once pristine clothing now tattered and dust stained. (more…)

She sits by a lake, a massive body of water so cold that just thinking about it should have made her shiver in the morning light. But her legs are splayed out in front of her carelessly, and her arms lay unfeeling and cold on the dying grass that bristles on the sloping banks.

The girl tries sorting through her web of tangled thoughts, but gets snared despite being the spider. She tilts her gaunt face back to stare at the sky, so clear it seems to be deliberately mocking her. So many tears have already been shed that nothing will come; only the vaguest feeling of loss permeates her chest and travels slowly to her jumbled thoughts like a storm cloud over a playground. (more…)