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March 11, 2014 Announcements
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RUN CON RUN by Sean Lloyd
Caine stopped, followed seconds later by Abel. Both turned their noses to the almost impalpable breeze. Maddy slid to a stop on the mucky soil, gratefully taking deep breaths. Checking her watch, she was impressed: 26 hours. They were approaching record territory. Jimmy John Donaldson had gone 38 hours straight, necessitating 2 teams working in tandem, but he had been a brain damaged clinical psychopath known to stay awake for 72 hour stretches. The kid she was tracking now was smart but scared and running on adrenaline. The chemical fire on your bones only lasted so long. Once it was gone it left only ash and despair. (more…)
SIGN OF THE TIMES by Paul Johnson-Jovanovic & Niall McMahon
March 9, 2014 Longer stories
Jack Spencer stood at his window and watched the world crumble. High in his apartment, he could see across the city. In the distance, buildings burned – black smoke spiralling. Three days before, a plane had come down. A military jet or similar. Jack had heard the whine of its engines. He’d rushed to the window in time to see the impact. The explosion had been huge – akin to a small nuclear bomb. Jack guessed it had been carrying weapons, or that it had hit a gas station. Perhaps both. A mushroom cloud had bloomed high into the cloudless sky. Seconds later, the building had shaken as though in an earthquake. Jack had braced himself, sure his time was up, sure the foundations would give way and he’d plummet to his death, riding the floors as he took a theme-park ride to Hell. (more…)
LADY OF MERCY by Jeffrey DeRego
January 22, 2014 Longer stories Tags: Jeffrey DeRego
We are three days out of the Bight of Biafra headed west. The trade winds favor Lady of Mercy and push us along at an easy 12 knots cutting a sharp wake through calm seas. I spend most of my time above decks as the autumn air retains a temperate nature infinitely preferable to the suffocating heat in the crew quarters and hold. I am not the only one, the crew, all 15 of them, are loathe to descend the ladders into the hold unless so ordered, and even then they grouse. Captain Machado runs the ship well, and though this is only my second trip as a First Mate, he conveys an air of authority below his otherwise easy manner. He’s pounded some brute of a deckhand into sniveling and bleeding more than once, but his violence is never excessive or gratuitous. I’ve shipped on other vessels where men were nailed to the deck or thrown to the sharks for the slightest infraction, though this brutality is generally reserved for Dutch traders and French privateers. (more…)
DEAN AND HETCH by A.J. Brown
January 7, 2014 Short stories Tags: AJ Brown, Dredging Up Memories Series
It was a dumb question. Hetch knew the answer, and it started with an N and ended with an O.
Dean lay on the bed, his eyes half open—he had barely been awake for the last few hours, and now, as Hetch was about to go, he had woken, if only briefly. The wound in his side was bandaged as good as Hetch could get it, the patch being a sheet torn length-wise and wrapped around Dean’s midsection. Still, a dark splotch of red had bled through. (more…)
DREDGING UP MEMORIES PART XV by A.J. Brown
December 27, 2013 Short stories Tags: AJ Brown, Dredging Up Memories Series
SEQUEL TO PART XIV
The Batesburg armory was a lost cause. There had been a battle there (if that’s really what it could be called. It was more like an attack and an attempt at defense). The dead lay scattered along the lawn, but also in piles closer to the building, as if the soldiers just shot and shot and shot until the dead stumbled over each other and got stuck outside. I pulled the truck up close to the lot, but parked in the road. I mashed the horn as hard as I could. It was a manly sound, not one of those friendly little beep beeps that was more apologetic than warning.
‘What are you doing?’ Humphrey asked.
“A test.” (more…)
THE SIEGE OF FORT BUZZARD by Eric Robert Nolan
December 16, 2013 Short stories
It was the smell of the dead that Rodney hated the most.
It was thick and pungent, but also sickly sweet, like sugar poured over feces. Once that odor hit his nostrils, it seemed to linger there in a terrible sense memory, even long after the danger had past. There had been times after the dead rose when Rodney would snap awake at night, from nightmares of that odor alone. (more…)
LA FIGLIA DELLA MORTE by Graham Williams
December 9, 2013 Short stories
Dull light seeped through the yellowed Perspex of the school toilet skylights. It was late, but the summer evening would linger for an hour yet. In sepia, the cracked, grubby surface of a mirror reflected the face of a living dead girl. Framed by bedraggled hair, soulless eyes stared dully from sockets surrounded by half-healed bruise smudging. The mouth hung slack, the split, swollen lips revealed teeth discoloured by blood, blood which was now slowly trickling down the chin.
A deep wrenching sob abruptly convulsed the frame of the girl and the sudden defocusing of the image shattered the illusion. She wasn’t dead, she just looked it and she knew it. (more…)
HOLIDAY REPOST: NIGHT OF THE FROZEN ELF by Richard S. Crawford
December 4, 2013 Humorous
If you haven’t caught it before, or delved deep enough into our archives, here’s a holiday treat: Night of the Frozen Elf
ZOMBIE FOOD NETWORK by Sonny Zae
November 22, 2013 Humorous
“Ramon nudged the body with his foot. “I’ve gotta apologize, Nash. You were right. This vehicle was a great idea.”
“Thanks!” Nash beamed as he pulled off his plastic clown mask. “It was more than that, it was brilliant.”
Ramon set his clown mask on the narrow counter inside the ice cream wagon, inspecting the body on the floor. “Easiest kill in a long time. The vehicle is perfect camouflage. No one’s frightened of us when we’re wearing the clown masks. We can cut him up at our leisure and haul the entire carcass back to camp.” (more…)