Sequel to CONSEQUENCES

John slowly awoke. It took him several seconds to remember where he was. He was used to waking up in a strange house or in the back seat of a car but this was the first time he’d woken up in a helicopter.

Rubbing his tired eyes, and stretching as much as he was able in the cramped confines, he looked out the window at the countryside passing by. Every now and then he caught sight of a zombie stumbling across an empty field. For some reason they never seemed to look up and notice the helicopter. (more…)

Sequel to SALVATION

Jeff Robinson sat in the chair and waited for his inevitable death. In fact he wasn’t as much sat in the chair, as strapped in. Think leather fastenings were secured tightly round his ankles, thighs, wrists, arms and waist. He looked around the empty room, moving only his eyes as his head was held firmly in place by the metal cap tightly fixed to it. It reminded him of a room where prisoners on TV shows were taken just before receiving several thousand volts in the electric chair. The irony wasn’t lost on him. (more…)

The four figures sat in their large plush leather chairs watching the old, bulky television on the far side of the large room. A fire burned in the fireplace off to one side, the flames casting the only other illumination in the room. The walls were lined with pictures of famous people, all now long dead. Einstein, Mozart and Hitler to name a few. Trophies covered the entire mantle piece and filled glass cabinets, ranging from sword fighting to horse riding to `slimmer of the year`. All of them were for first place. Cigar smoke drifted slowly around the ceiling.

Each of the seated figures was as different to the others as they could be. The first figure was huge, and not due to fat but pure muscle. Every inch of him was a bulging mass of rippling muscle with think veins like worms crawling across his exposed skin. His neck was easily the size of a normal man’s waist. He wore tight red vest top and denim shorts, with a red baseball cap sat backwards on his head. A large cigar, twice the size of a mans finger, was gripped between his teeth. (more…)

1

Steve Blum scowled in pure hate as he heard the cackle of the old woman. How he hated her. He hated her more than he hated the roaming dead. They had an excuse for what they did. They were dead and, if the scientists were to be believed, simply acting on instinct. She, however, did it because she was senile. The hag was a drain on their resources, and Steve had made this very clear many times. Not only did she take up room in the already crowded refuge but also she wasted their supply of food and water. Not to mention the time it took to look after her. As long as she was awake then someone had to be with her at all times.

He said a small prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that it wasn’t him today. She seemed to be acting up more than usual. Making stupid noises and, no doubt, causing trouble for whoever was unlucky enough to have to keep an eye on her. (more…)

Sequel to WAITING

James Saxton stood up and allowed the two guards to each hold an arm as he was led out of his small cell. He was drugged, he was sure of it. There was no way he would let these men take him to his death without a fight otherwise. Not that there was much he could do about it anyway. His wrists and ankles were shackled together and a sturdy chain linked the two.

As he shuffled past the other cells he groggily looked at the faces of people he thought he knew staring back. The fear in their eyes was obvious, but he wasn’t afraid. Just another sign he was sure he’d been drugged. There must have been something in his final meal. It still tasted good though. He’d forgotten the last time he’d had such a beautifully cooked steak, such perfect fries and peas so fresh they could have been straight from the pods, and a chilled beer as well. He wasn’t sure they would go for that request, but they had allowed him one last frosty cold one. (more…)

Sequel to TRANSMISSION

John had always been impatient. He hated waiting. Not just the “Oh I can’t stand waiting around” type of hate, but the physical, makes you want to punch a wall in anger, hate. He just couldn’t stand the thought of waiting around for anything. If he needed something, it had to be straight away. (more…)

Marcus awoke at the sound of the alarm. Waking quickly he hit the stop button and removed the batteries. Lying back down he checked his watch.10.40. He looked over at his wind-up alarm clock and saw the time showed 8.24. Damm. How drunk had he been last night? Drunk enough to forgot to wind his alarm clock but not so drunk that he had put batteries in his digital clock. Still, he had twenty minutes to spare. (more…)