Andrea leaned against the wide windowsill of the capital building and looked down into the square. In the distance, fire was consuming the outlying districts of the city. The end of everything—the big, stupid hammer between the eyes that knocks society down—the movies, bibles, and chiller books always made it seem as if it would be so loud. Eardrum-smashing screams as everything blows up and goes dark. Really, it had been quiet. Maybe that was the whole idea. You just exhale, and it goes away. Free at last, free at last. (more…)

Deadgirl’s Blog

Tuesday, September 04, 2007­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

I never thought it would happen to me. Damn that Tommy Barker. Always grabbing at me. So we stopped over at Allston Park and went down to the beach to you know. Ever since I gave him that blowjob after Laura Murphy’s birthday party a month ago, he’s been determined to get another one. But I was drunk that night and besides he didn’t want to pull out before– (more…)

I often think back to when everything was so complex, and I don’t know whether I should burst into tears, or smile solely because I managed to live through the war. When Zack started showing up in Maryland after the refugees made their way into the States, from Africa and China, I knew we were fucked from the beginning. I remember sitting around the tube watching CNN with Paul, my best friend, and this was when the outbreak was still west of the Rockies. Still focusing on the television he blankly muttered out, “Militia. We have to join a militia, it’s the only way we beat this thing.” (more…)

You’d never believe it, but the true badasses, the real fucking heroes of this entire thing were not the soldiers (‘we are SO ready for the last war’), the police, the government, the “human spirit” or even Zack. No. The real fucking heroes are the pizza delivery guys. I shit you not. (more…)

THE MAN IN THE SUIT AND TIE slashed his wife’s throat. But no blood squirted from the wound he had made on her grayish, beige neck. Nor did that stop her progression towards him. He stumbled back into the china cabinet, some of the dishes inside falling, breaking. He ran around the kitchen table with the butcher knife still clutched in his hand. She shuffled slowly ( But not slowly enough for his tastes.) after him as he tipped the proud wooden chairs from the dinette set onto her path. When this did not impede her route he used the knife again: Stabbing at the spot where he thought her heart might be. The blade ran clear through with an apple slicing sound, but again, this seemed to have no effect on her at all. The weapon stayed lodged in her chest as he caught her off balance and pushed her to the floor. (more…)

I was just beginning to like my job as a resident at the hospital when the stool sample hit the fan. Talk of the Bird Flu stopped just as soon as the first city went up in flames. The news people at Fox tried to blame Al Qeida by throwing turbans on some of the un-dead and filming them as they attacked a military installation. Britt Hume defended the stunt by saying there was no proof the plague of zombies hadn’t been started by insurgents. As far as I was concerned, all the politics were outside my field, I was going to provide quality medical care, even if the patients were dead. (more…)

I woke to the sound of an unpracticed, halting note by note performance of the Beatles’ “Hey Jude” wafting quietly in from the rectory. It was early; bright morning light spun shimmering curtains of color through the stained glass windows of the church. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, popping my neck and cursing the pew that had served as my bed for the past two weeks. Things weren’t looking well. We were running dangerously low on supplies, the electricity had finally shut down on us the night before, and the baptismal fount we’d been using to bathe had since grown tepid and questionable for hygienic use. My brother Victor had ventured out for help and supplies two days ago, taking dad’s .9mm and the Tundra, our only working vehicle. We haven’t heard from him since. (more…)

When the Cloud came it brought life to those who ought not have it anymore.

So Edwin Prace naturally headed off towards the cemetery.

He had three cans of free flowing salt with him, seventy-eight ounces in all, not counting the handful of little packets collected in his truck’s glove box from the drive-throughs of various fast food restaurants.

He hoped it would be enough. He said a little prayer, just in case. It serve well to be caught without enough salt when the Clouds came. (more…)

Dudley Wells, eager young reporter for the Ingham County Record, sat wedged between two farmers in the cab of a Ford F-150 pickup.

“So, Mr. Varney,” he asked the sunburned man driving the pickup. “What do you consider the greatest threat to today’s farmer?”

The large man snorted and spat a meteor of black tobacco juice out the window. “Are you serious?” he asked back. (more…)

“The skin taut drums tattooed their rhythm through the morass of the jungle growth of the Antibone Valley of Haiti. The ‘hungans’ the voodoo priests called out to the void and summoned the ‘Loa’ the intermediaries between the natives and the spirit of the ‘Mokadi’. The ‘Loa’ answered and they gave the power over the living dead, the zombies, to the voodoo priests.. (more…)

…but they pulled the rifle away from me, twelve hands, sixty fingers on the long barrel. It went off and one of the grey faces
exploded like a kicked, albino pumpkin. Now that the weapon was gone I could only try and re-close the door. (more…)