Qiaohua knelt in front of her ancestors, to all the generations that once stood before, her hands holding the smoky, burning incense, as she looked at each of the names of her forefathers sincerely.

“Dear Grandpa, and all my honored forefathers, please bless your humble and unworthy granddaughter-in-law the strength to overcome these series of unfortunate events that have besieged the peace of our village. I seek your guidance in all my actions, so that in turn, I can help protect the villagers, just as how all of you, my fathers have been—honoring the family and shouldering the responsibilities. I’ll do whatever I can to stop the evil at bay until Zhenjing return. My fathers, please ensure his return! I will be forever thankful.” (more…)

The man was big; they called him ‘Bear’ or ‘Papa Bear’. Stan thought about male bears and hoped that he was a papa wolf, instead… in the Zombie Apocalypse, such a big guy had done better than most, bashing in undead skulls and keeping beyond their cold hands with the reach of the tree limb pruning-hook that he was carrying. It looked like serious hurt. (more…)

It was utterly ridiculous that Jimmy sang to Rebecca every night. She probably didn’t know he existed. Hell, he didn’t even know if she existed anymore.

Those monsters roaming and moaning around the base of the lighthouse, they seemed to have gotten to everyone. Billy, the redneck kid who used to punch Jimmy on the school bus. Jimmy was sure Billy was down there, wearing a Metallica t-shirt that was threadbare even before Billy became a decaying disease machine. Zombification hadn’t changed Billy much. (more…)

My name was John Folger, and no, no relation to the coffee. That’s always the first thing people ask when I meet them, and my response is automatic. It’s possible that by now there isn’t even an empty can of Folgers left, so maybe that reference doesn’t make any sense to you, but all I know about is the past and the right now. I guess my writing this down shows that I still believe in a future, but I have no more illusions that I’ll be in it. I hope my story can help you, even if it’s just to fill in the blanks of a moment in history. I warn you, I have no answers, only observations and a few confessions. (more…)

How long had it been? He could not wrap his chemically-preserved synapses around the concept, overhearing seals being opened to this special storage pod before cold gasses dissipated around him. There was a hissing as the pod’s front lid raised upward and away, the sleeper’s eyes usually closed when stored here and seeing no reason for opening them yet until addressed by his commanding Lieutenant General Ross Haggard or one of the various Central Intelligence Agency handlers he had come to know while involved as an assassin in the shadowy world of national security.

I remember the last mission, killing that fanatic to save the king of a small Arab nation vital for our operations in the Middle East, just not every detail now. (more…)

This is the third story of a series that began with 1ST OHIO VOLUNTEERS.

1.

A wet, frigid wind tore at the long column of ragged men as they continued their march along a snow covered highway flanked on both sides by large white hills. The tops of those hills however were invisible in the grey haze of the miserably wet and cold weather. Their heads were bowed against the harsh bite of the wind and barely a word was spoken among them. Large flakes of wet snow whipped into them, liquefied, and ran down the seams of their combat fatigues. Icicles clung to the rims of their Kevlar helmets.

Their shoulders sported the screaming eagle of the 101st Airborne division and this detachment was composed of a platoon of light infantry. In total they numbered around 40 men and they trudged through the snow with the grim determination that only soldiers can muster. (more…)

A deadly unstoppable tide is approaching and the only way to avoid it is to run. But as I prepare to fly out from Kildare to the Azores in the Twin Otter I’m haunted by thoughts of Della. I can think of nothing else as I worry for her safety. I think about Ralph Patterson, her idiot husband and I wonder, as death closes rapidly in on us all; does he have a survival plan and will it prevent me from ever seeing her again?

Ralph is my sometimes business associate. He’s a money making genius on the Trading floor but outside of that he can be a gobshite of biblical proportions. He has a brain of course, and I hoped to god he was using it instead of performing some sort of headless chicken routine. This was the possibility that planted misgivings in my head. (more…)

All chapters in the “Hunger” series

Chapter Four

“It’s no use. The bastard thing will nae start!” Martin gave up trying to turn the jeep over. The engine was thoroughly flooded and his frantic attempts to start it again had only made the situation worse. “Sergeant, we’ve got to get out of here. If you can’t get the jeep started, we’re going to have to run.” Reuter again looked through the field glasses. The approaching throng of people wending their way out of the tiny village of Ornel was gradually growing closer, now less than 100 yards away.

“Are ye daft, ye fookin’ tosser?” Clive yelled from the back of the jeep. “I’m nae hoofin’ it! They’ll back off once I put a few warning shots from the .50 across them.” To demonstrate, Clive fired off a rapid burst from the .50 caliber. The slugs impacted into the ground directly in front of the mob to no discernible notice. They continued to press forward, the entire crowd moaning in an unearthly chorus. As they drew nearer, the grisly wounds of each person seemed to magnify before the two British and two German soldiers sitting in the jeep. (more…)

It was a monumental occasion for me. It was my first night on the job as Zeputy Ian Slater of the Zombie Patrol: ZP for short. I knew my mom and dad would have been proud, had they not been eaten by my brother and two little sisters. But that’s all in the past. Years of therapy served me well and allowed me the opportunity to embark on a new phase in my life. I was no longer going to be a survivor, hiding cowardly behind thick steel doors while others risked their lives to protect our community. No, I had put myself on the front lines.

To be honest, I couldn’t have been more excited. (more…)

I killed a man.  I killed a man. I killed a man.  I-kill-a-man.

I killed a living, breathing, flesh and blood man.

He wasn’t one of those things.  He spoke, cried, smiled, and thought. (more…)

The Lubyanka, Moscow, RF – March 22nd 2012

“So this guy, Maalouf, what exactly is he trying to sell?” Major-General Alexandr Cherlin was getting irritated, he hated dealing with field agents. At the other end of a very poor line to their Luanda office someone spoke. “Worse than Ebola? I find this hard to believe Captain Gavrikov.  Do you trust this guy?”  (more…)