The following account of a zombie (Hostile Infected Person, or H.I.P.) encounter was collected at the Spring River Zoo in Roswell, New Mexico from the security tapes off of several different computers.

According to personnel files recovered from the zoo’s computers, Jonathan Ramirez was a 52-year-old custodian who worked at the zoo for 22 years. His personal file showed a man who was rarely late for work and who had multiple reports from zoo patrons telling administrators how nice and helpful Mr. Ramirez was. (more…)

Daddy took me fishing with him and the other fishers today! He made me my very own bamboo fishing pole and said that when I’m older we’ll go into town and see about finding me a better one! One of the good ones like Mrs. Davis’ pretty gold one or the McQueen brothers’ silver and black ones. The one daddy made me doesn’t have a reel on it so I’ll have to stay close to the shore. (more…)

-Undisclosed location

I meet the interviewee, ‘John’, in an interstate diner. John had tracked me down a week previous, after hearing about my report ‘from some friends’, and requested to be interviewed.

John’s a lean, rangy man and he’s wearing mirrored aviators. He drinks his coffee and explains his request for confidentiality. (more…)

The artillery barrage had gone on seemingly forever. Hans and Reuter had long ago given up any notion of hearing anything beyond the pounding of the approaching wall of American 105 mm shells. The landscape looked like some cratered imagining of the moon the two men had seen in picture books when they’d been boys. It was clear that Wessel was no longer going to be in German hands for much longer. The two men communicated by hand signals, pointing themselves in any direction which would take them away from the Ami’s relentless bombardment. Running away held many dangers though. Both men knew all too well what would happen should the Feldjaeger find them. Those Fepo bastards were too damned eager to string up anybody caught going in a direction other than the fighting. (more…)

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Bob. I expect that you’re rather busy- it’s Hell on Earth here… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t mock you. You know all the mysteries. I- I’m just a man. Mortal, fallible, afraid… sick to death for me and mine. They’re all I have, Lord. Watch over us and protect us. Amen.”

-Bob, Zombie Hunter (more…)

Hungry. There’s nothing to eat but us, and Zeke already knows that.

We got caught by a herd. Don’t know how or why, but lately the zombies have started to congregate, to gather and move in schools like fish, or flocks of birds. Emergent phenomena, Doc Black says. He was a biologist of some kind, before. (more…)

Tina knew when her sister first picked up the infection. Tammy tried her best to hide the bite, but it was no use. Somehow, Tina knew. She always knew. There was a strong connection between the pair, a bond that neither could explain. Once, when they were twelve, Tammy took a face full of softball, but it was Tina’s nose that bled, flowing like a hose before they finally plugged it. The doctors called it an unusual case of sympathetic pains, while managing to ignore the fact that Tina was indoors during a history class while Tammy was outdoors during PE. The twins didn’t need a fancy explanation, nor did they want one. They had lived with the phenomenon their whole lives. Knowing what the other felt or thought or craved was as natural as breathing. (more…)

Virginia laid out the last pieces of her fine china and stepped back to critique the table setting. The wildflower centerpiece of yellow bells, Black-eyed Susans, yellow gold Lantanas, baby’s breath and day lilies caught the dappled sunlight streaming through a large pine oak next door and seemed to glow. Virginia reused the baby’s breath and day lilies from an arrangement she made in the spring. They were desiccated but still held their color. The rest were fresh, collected only moments ago. Her placemats were squared: forks on the left, knives on the right, dessert fork and spoon at the top, butter knife across the side plate, teacup handles to the right. Everything was perfect, just like the tea parties she attended when Eldon was stationed in London during the war. Her grandmother’s tablecloth hid the wrought iron patio table well enough, and the thin gold lacing stitched throughout accented the centerpiece wonderfully. Eat your heart out Martha! (more…)

The sunlight woke him.  The tiny cabin was already warming up and his body was sticky with sweat from the night’s sleep.  It couldn’t be more than late April, he thought, perhaps early may.  “I’ll have to start sleeping up top soon” he muttered to himself as he glanced out the small window and took in the wide blue vista.  “No choice about it, too hot to sleep down here.  Can’t sleep, can’t think.  Can’t think, then I start making mistakes… It’s no good”.  He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep on the deck either though.  At least in the cabin he felt protected, not naked under the stars, his body exposed and vulnerable.  Just irrational fear he told himself; ‘Nightmares or not, it would soon be high summer and there would be no choice.’ (more…)

He walked through the door to Joe’s Beverly Bar and Grill just as the delicate morning mist began to dissipate and the waking sun sent curling rays of dust to sift and shift in the gloom of the empty bar. Without breaking his stride Daniel Murphy shrugged off his gray overcoat and hat, set them on the coat rack beside the door, shifted his pistol to his hip, and moved towards the long oak counter.

“Morning, Joe. How’s business?” (more…)

“This is the last one.”

Matt Baker glanced up from taking the safety off his gun to the one-level ranch house his partner was pointing at. A large picture window was shattered in the front–glass jutted up from the sill like broken teeth. Blood stained the driveway in streaks and splatters that trailed onto the immaculate lawn. A single red hand print was smeared across the aluminum mailbox, which now hung at a sad, abused slant. (more…)