The old man was dead.

The dog lay beside the old man on the truck’s threadbare bench seat. The shiny thing lay in the man’s lap, still clutched in his hand. The dog had seen the shiny thing only once before. He knew it made a loud noise and scared away strange people, but he didn’t know it would hurt people. He didn’t know it could make them dead. (more…)

The fire stirred up in each one of us comes screaming out in huge angry strides.  The seam of the undead stretches out in front of us, and a sight that usually spells death and retreat seems like a smiling challenge begging for our boot heels.  I clutch my crowbar tightly, each end sharpened and scarred, a part of me since the sun went down and never came back up.  In front of me, white headstones spread out in rows, identical in shape but not in content.  Thousands, all the way to a horizon flecked with the hulls of planes, great crushed airliners that failed to save us from the realization that each destination was more tainted than the last.  A jeep carrying The General screams past, guns blazing precious high caliber promises.  His megaphone screams, “THIS LIFE!  A FUCKING CAKEWALK.  MAKE THEM PAY!” (more…)