On the third day, Sister Evangelina was shot through the head. She was the third Sister of Lazarus to be struck down, following Sister Zoe and Sister Susannah. On a distant hill, watching her quarry through her binoculars, Mary Travis regarded her handiwork and smiled grimly. (more…)

The first thing I saw was pink satin, bunches and bunches of pink satin, and I raised a fist covered in white lace and rotting flesh and, oh, damn you Mom, damn you, you always took advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable and you knew the only time you could dress me up like a pretty little princess was when I was DEAD, at my FUNERAL, not the fuck-you blaze I wanted to go out in at all but I couldn’t stop you, could I…I’m really hungry. (more…)

In the old world there were crazies everywhere. Corrupt officials. Corrupt cops. Corrupt teachers. Corrupt sports figures. Kids killing kids. The world was on the verge of killing itself when the dead began to rise. The difference between then and now? The crazies aren’t arrested for the things they do now, and there is no media circus to follow them around, reporting on their every move. (more…)

Kevin stepped back, pulled his facemask over his chin and moved forward across the ruined highway into the desolate wilderness of post-apocalyptic Auckland. (more…)

On the dark,deserted grey-green Tasman Sea, midway between the shattered and haunted remnants of Australia and the precipice sanctuary of New Zealand, an apparent large piece of driftwood stirred, ebbed and flowed in the stillness. (more…)

Michael killed himself two days ago. We lost Elliot a few weeks before that. Without his brother I guess he figured it was all too hard and so he simply gave up. Too much pain, too much misery. I found him dangling after he threw in the towel and hung himself in the barn. I know it must have been hard for him to do, to leave me. I don’t blame him and I try not to hate him but it is a bitter painful pill to swallow. Though somehow, with feelings of pity and mercy, I hope to forgive him. (more…)

It was optimistic to set out a dozen chairs.  It was unlikely that even one person would attend, let alone enough to fill the small space in the church basement.  But Jennifer was determined to be positive.  She knew not to get her hopes up, that this was likely to be an impossible undertaking, and she had already resigned herself to the probability of its failure.  Still, there was always a chance she could succeed, a wonderful possibility she reminded herself of as she taped the sign to the door: (more…)

Jimmy Mitchell stood in front of the bathroom mirror, turning his head to the left and then to the right, his face inches from his reflection, scrutinizing his complexion. Using his two index fingers, he squeezed blackheads until his skin became red and blotchy. (more…)

The first time Robert saw Sally, it was through the scope of his hunting rifle. Joey hadn’t gotten himself killed yet.

“Let them at ‘er!” Joey’s voice echoed in Robert’s mind like a cartoon devil. “She’s a screamer, she’s gonna draw ‘em all on her, give us time to gather the supplies and get the hell out!” Robert found himself earnestly considering this option and put his finger on the trigger. (more…)

He felt his way through the sparse forest. It was white from a blanket of recent snow. White and green and brown and gray. The pines had bent low to the ground from the snows weight. The sun had not yet come up and the reflection of the white snow was welcome in the surrounding dark. He could not feel his gloved hands. He could not feel anything. But still he walked, awkwardly on uneven terrain. (more…)

[Zachary Wallace is a tall weathered man who has spent the years of the Zombie War at the fringe of the system. He is famous for supplying large amounts of raw material, and his advertisements to hire Reclaimers, mercenaries who go into the Wasteland to recover raw material for the economy. He pays well, but his casualty rate is often high. I caught up with him in a gated community he helped build. His house is stocked with electronics and high end furniture. He offers me a drink of 30 year old Scotch, obviously looted from the Wilds. I accept it of course, it has been years since I have had a good glass of liquor.  (more…)