June 30, 2008

The video feed faded from the screen.

“OK” Barked the presenter “What did our test subject do wrong”

A hesitant volunteer raised his hand, the presenter nodded.

“She, uh, she didn’t find herself a weapon?”

“Very good, what else”

Another volunteer raised his had

“Sir, I saw three mistakes followed by one huge one. Firstly no weapon as previously noted, second she did not control her panic, third, on no single occasion did she close a door. However sir, I believe her biggest mistake was running upstairs, away from her attacker. As we saw the attic offered her no escape routes.”

The presenter smiled “Very good, very good.”

“OK next up is a two zombies on the ground floor, with you in the basement, volunteers?”


The Beach

June 27, 2008


All down the beach, crews took up positions and readied their weapons as the cry drifted down from the sand dune.

Dale swallowed nervously, this was it! They had tracked the bottom walkers for over a year now, and it looked as though this is where they would surface. He double checked the ammo feed and sighted at the waves crashing on the beach.

He heard gunfire in the far distance, coming closer as more gun crews began to open fire. Then he saw them, emerging from the waves rotted distorted monstrosities, emerging from the water. All the way down the beach he could see them emerging, followed by countless more behind them.

He squeezed the trigger and started to shoot for his life.

The Beacon

June 26, 2008

The bonfire roared, sending bright red and orange flame high into the sky.

At the base of the hill Mat looked back at the fire and contemplated going back. He shook his head and turned back to the footpath leading away from the hill top.

The fire would serve as booth a warning and a beacon to others out on the Moore.

The group he had split from two days ago,would understand the warning, that the walking dead were here.

They would also know that it was a beacon, a beacon that the dead would want to visit, the perfect opportunity to eradicate more of the dead, or a place to avoid like the plague. Either way Mat did not care, his task was done.

One Chainsaw, One Can of Whoopass

June 25, 2008

Breathing deep, she grabbed the chainsaw from her now dead boyfriends chest and lunged for the nearby can of fuel.

Blinking back the tears she refueled the reservoir, closed the cap, cleaned the chain and got to her feet.

The pounding on the door was incessant, the door shock, vibrating in its frame. She watched as it slowly began to buckle under the strain and saw the splinter like cracks forming over its surface.

She smiled, looked back at her lover, at what she had been forced to do, gunned the engine alive and opened the door.

The Sack

June 24, 2008

The four of them moved down the empty street slowly, guns in hand, scanning the darkness, dragging a moving sack between them.

“I don’t think coming back here was a good idea Joe” whispered the tall skinny one, over the sounds of muffled sobbing coming from the sack

“Shut up, now ain’t the time to puss out” Joe whispered back.

“Im not pussing out Joe, I just don’t think this is a good idea”

“Well were almost there, so you ain’t leaving”

Up ahead a large building loomed out of the darkness. Figures moved around behind the darkened windows.

“Fuuuuck, its packed” whispered the tall one.

Joe smiled, shouldered his weapon, reached for the sack and said “Well, this is why we brought the bait.”

Crowded Streets All Cleared Away

June 23, 2008

“Their clearing the streets!”

Running to the window he joined Jane and looked down at the scene below. Soldiers several blocks down were clearing a path before them, yelling over mega-phones for people to go home and stay indoors.

“This doesn’t make any sense” said Jane “The city is supposed to be safe, no one can get in or out unless they go through one of the checkpoints”.

“I don’t know what’s happening Jane, but we should be prepared for the worst. Go grab your pack, and your gun, if things goto hell we cant rely on the government to protect us.”

Reaching out he held her hands “Your hands are cold, don’t worry, it will be ok”

Roaming Herds

June 20, 2008

The dull thumping roused the rancher from his slumber. Adjusting his hat he stood up, stretched and walked to the edge of the cliff top.

Far below him, and stretched out as far as the eye could see were thousands and thousands of the walking dead boxed in on three sides by sheer cliff.

He had been watching them for 6 days now as they stood there, wondering how he could move them off of his land.

Now it appeared they had decided for themselves. At the open end of the canyon the horde seemed to have spotted something in the far distance and like a giant Mexican wave were beginning to turn and move toward it.

The Rancher smiled, un-tethered his horse and began to make his way back to his own herd.