WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.
ASSASSIN: PART 4 By Pete Bevan
January 5, 2013 Longer stories,Short stories Tags: Pete Bevan
SEQUEL TO PART 3
“By change of place: Now conscience wakes despair”
Martin stared intently at the lone Colonel, and the soldier stared back. Martin watched as he stood with arms folded behind his back and chest out, a stern look on his face. It occurred to Martin that this was a man who loved power. He had seen the same stance, the same impassive look in African Generals and tin pot dictators, as their soldiers committed untold atrocities in front of his eyes. It was a look that challenged all who would stand against him. Under normal circumstances Martin would change that look to pitiful pleading.
ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES By Pete Bevan
October 18, 2012 Short stories Tags: Pete Bevan
Involuntarily my face screws up in anguish. My eyes clenched to prevent escaping tears. I want to heave with sobs and shout and rage at the injustice, at the horror, and at the loss of it all. I want to stand up and take my gun and fight until every last one of those things is a proper corpse. Just as it should be. I screw my face up harder. I can’t take this anymore. I think of happier times. Her third birthday, on a beautiful summer, sunny day. Unlike mine in the depths of January, her birthday will always be full of sun and laughter. In a pretty pink party dress and light up trainers, set off with a pair of Mum-made tissue fairy wings. She bounces around singing some inappropriate pop song while I try, and fail, to fashion a horse from balloons for her rapt friends. Here and now, my chest aches from holding back great, tearing sobs. I bury my nose in her soft blonde hair. It smells of smoke and grime but beneath that it still her unmistakable sweet smell. My girl. My daughter. (more…)
ZED EVENTS – THE MANOR REVIEW by Pete Bevan
May 22, 2012 Humorous Tags: Britain, guns, Pete Bevan
On Saturday morning two very excited men arrived at my house so we could rock up to Daresbury in the north of England to visit Zed Events – The Manor. One was a bouncing Big Rich, 6 foot 8 of enthusiastic Zombie fan. The other our very own young Scott Berryman who, rather than being a wannabe soldier like us, is actually in the military.
Our mode of transport was a bright orange G4 Land Rover, packed by Big Rich with everything you would need to survive the apocalypse such as Shovels, axes etc. None of which would actually be required but we felt it was important to look the part.
Big Rich posing by the Orange Love Bus
ASSASSIN: PART 2 by Pete Bevan
May 2, 2012 Longer stories Tags: Pete Bevan
SEQUEL TO PART 1
“Turning our tortures into horrid arms”
Martin cycled through the air, dropping easily over the gap between the two buildings. He started to twist as he fell, desperately trying to right himself, and after falling for long, breathless seconds, he hit the roof of the building fully side on. Pain exploded up his body as he skidded along the gravel. Finally, as he ground to a stop, blackness took him and he could taste the iron saltiness of blood in his mouth. (more…)
ASSASSIN: PART 1 by Pete Bevan
March 19, 2012 Longer stories Tags: Britain, Pete Bevan
‘To bottomless perdition, there to dwell’
For a few seconds he dozed in that wonderful head space between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was warm and well rested, the Egyptian cotton enveloping his form. Then, one by one, each fresh injury made itself apparent. There was a slightly twisted knee here, a bruised and slashed shoulder there, a jaw ache, and a muscular twinge under his shoulder blades. The peaceful feeling left him and he tried to turn over to see if that orientation was more comfortable. As he turned a pain shot through his cheek and he realised the pillow was stuck to his face, a consequence of the weeping graze from his fall from the estate wall. The plasma had formed a crust inter-weaved with the soft fabric of the expensive down pillows. (more…)
ALL THE DEAD ARE HERE, a collection by Pete Bevan
October 24, 2011 Announcements Tags: Pete Bevan
It is with great pleasure I can announce that “All the Dead are Here” is now available in paperback, as well as eBook versions. The paperback version, which now contains an introduction not in the eBook version is available here:
From our good friend Mr. Pete Bevan:
“It is with great pleasure I can announce that my collected works of Zombie fiction, entitled “All The Dead Are Here” is now available at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com for the Kindle Reader App. This means they can be read on the Kindle, Smartphone, PC, iPhone or Mac (through Kindle Cloud Reader) for a price of around $5 or $3.50.
All The Dead Are Here – Amazon.co.uk
All The Dead Are Here – Amazon.com
This book contains 9 stories from TOWWZ that have been professionally edited and, in some cases rewritten. Then there are an additional 8 previously unpublished works in this collection that represents all of Pete Bevan’s Zombie fiction in one spine chilling tome of 85,000 words. The collection also contains all three (Three? Or four?) parts of his acclaimed ‘Minister’ series.
I sincerely hope you treat yourself to a bit of a Zombie this Halloween, and I would only ask that you leave a review on Amazon.
Due to the subject matter and language used this book is not recommended for the under 18’s. Not unless they’ve been really bad.
Islands – Competition winning story of a lone shop owner trapped in a city of the Undead, his salvation coming from an unexpected source.
The Minister – Years after the Apocalypse a band of survivors meet the strangest man of God.
Kernow – Take care when holidaying in Cornwall after the Zombie Apocalypse.
The Beating of 10,000 wings – An old man makes his final peace in a scarred land.
Cadish – An strange alien with the best intentions makes a hideous mistake.
The Minister Verse 2 – Government forces hunt for a strange priest not realising his true power.
The Isle of the Ungodly Dead – A Victorian reporter from the Times finds a tropical hell.
These things always happen to me on a Tuesday – The Zombie Apocalypse is not always as it seems.
Leaving Liminality – A survivor reminisces on what he has become.
The Boy – A traffic jam at the wrong place and time changes a boys fate forever.
Koyashis Button – A man employed for his lack of empathy has to make a fateful decision.
Zom – bee – The last man to sleep has to become fear itself as he drives across a nightmare world.
The Madman, The Tower, and The devil – A US General gets a visitation from the old adversary.
Angels with Dirty Faces – A father is faced with his darkest decision.
The Minister Verse 3: Resurrection – The final epic showdown of the Minister triptych
Quantum Practice – The last scientist uses a hat stand of non-linear time to prevent the Apocalypse.
The Tellers Apprentice – A lone traveller seeks to pass on the lost knowledge, but who is this traveller?”
So consider getting yourself or a friend this collection of fine stories for Halloween. Several of these are featured on our site, but many are exclusive to Pete’s collection.
An Open Letter to ‘Tales of World War Z’, from Pete Bevan
October 18, 2010 Uncategorized Tags: Pete Bevan
To the writers and readers of TOWWZ,
By now you may be aware of the ‘Oxford Incident’. It has been reported on the BBC, Daily Mail, and Guardian websites as having been a group of disaffected students “going postal” in the Summertown area of Oxford after a night of mephedrone and cheap supermarket alcohol. (more…)
THE MINISTER, VERSE 3: RESURRECTION by Pete Bevan
March 18, 2010 Longer stories Tags: Britain, military, Pete Bevan, The Minister
Jim Bramer, Minister of Special Circumstances, stood and gazed out of the grimy rain-slick window of The Houses of Parliament office that was his home. Casually he picked at the damp peeling paint on the window sill, and dropped the flakes onto the aging, stained carpet. The office was once opulent in the seat of government, now faded and ruined as the city around him. He looked out into the night, and the further he looked west, the more dread snatched at him. He could feel the rising panic in the city below, queues of shabby workers rushing down Abingdon Street towards Westminster Bridge and the Isle of Dogs. They moved together in the vain hope there was still a boat with a friendly Captain. In his office he could hear the murmurs and shouts of the crowd, people shoving and arguing, fear barely concealed as they hurried along. Bramer knew that all the boats were gone, and that Death was coming. He knew this because The Minister had phoned him and told him so. (more…)
THE BOY by Pete Bevan
November 23, 2009 Short stories Tags: Britain, Pete Bevan
Mummy and Daddy have stopped shouting at each other and now I am just bored again. My DS has run out of battery and Dad didn’t pack the charger for the car. He shouted “There are more important things than your bloody DS!” at me when I asked if it was in the boot. In fact this is the worst car journey I have ever been on. We have been stuck on the motorway for hours with nothing moving, and the girl in the car next to ours keeps making faces at me and sticking two fingers up at me. Spotty cow. (more…)
CADISH by Pete Bevan
November 6, 2009 Short stories Tags: Aliens, Pete Bevan
John hopped around in panic. He had scrambled down the alley in hope of escape and found the end blocked. Turning he saw a group of Zombies round the corner, see him, and start to advance with that guttural growl. Fear rose in John’s throat and frantically he tried to climb up the sheer wall but couldn’t find a handhold in the well pointed brickwork. (more…)
ISLANDS by Pete Bevan
September 29, 2009 Short stories Tags: contest winner, Pete Bevan
The heat of the morning sun forces me from my canvas home and out onto the flat gravel world. I drink greedily of my meagre water and wrench the two foam stops from my ears. The low monotone rumbles becoming distinctive moans from my dead neighbours below. My heart sinks.
I crunch across the gun shop roof towards the door, locked and wedged shut with my heavy pack. Sliding it out of the way I listen. Six days of scratching and shuffling becomes seven and I don’t know if I have the will to open the door. Slowly, I turn the key and hear excitement rise from below. Hesitantly, I open the door and the carpet of foetid stinking hands below grasp through the broken stair well to the bottom edge of the door, hunger increasing every day. I close the door quickly, lock it and wedge the pack back against it. One more day trapped in my new home, my new prison. (more…)