A gentleman’s club becomes a refuge for the well-to-do when the dead rise, through one member has a dark secret hanging over his head which threatens all who discover it. One by one the group’s number dwindles, until there is nothing left to do but the unthinkable. This alternate history zombie tale recounts the final days in the life of one of the survivors, as his time – and the 1930s – draws to a dark close.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
The choir invisible isn’t as invisible as it used to be; now streets chime with the tones of their number, and it seems their number grows every day. It is almost as if they have been drawn out into the streets from where they have fallen to join their fellow geaches in some macabre pack instinct unknowable to those of us whose eyes are still bright. Their irrepressible desire for the dark meat disturbs me in ways I have not the words to describe, though Asher seemed able to stand witness to their atrocities with no ill. For the longest time I feared I would be ensconced within the walls of the Athenaeum forevermore, a living ghost who bore witness to the darkest of times. As there is little in the way of outstanding duties to perform, I have decided to use what time I have left to put to paper that which I know, and which I have done. Having had time to consider the alternatives, leaving this note – this memorial to events – is most likely the only way my story will be told. I can only hope some souls exist elsewhere in the city; that this is not in vain. As days pass by unmourned and unmarked it becomes ever more evident to me my salvation is not to be. I have made peace with my eventual demise, and leave this testimony that some part of it may illuminate that which transpired here, as unbelievable as much of it must seem. You may scoff at my telling of events, for they are indeed incredible, but I am not a man of grand delusion nor fantasies. That you are reading this, that you have survived, is enough for me. My name, if such things matter any more, is Lord Henry Abercrombie, though that was not my birth name. I was born in undistinguished circumstances, and by a mix of good fortune and cunning enterprise managed to make good of my existence. Public works may have sealed my reputation, but it was private financing where I truly made my mark, not least of which was scientific funding of up and coming men, visionaries the likes of which rarely achieve their fullest. It was not without some modicum of self-interest in which I bankrolled their endeavors, but I dealt fairly in both contract and company. We were to be the architects of a bright new future. We were to be kings. One of my protégés was a remarkable American named Weston, who had arrived in London after some scandal or other had disgraced him in the face of his Miskatonic peers. He had the most unique notions of chemical understanding, such that I had ever encountered, and was engaged in research in cataloging something or other which was beyond me. I was assured, from men of good standing, if he were to succeed there would be a pretty penny to be made in the use of such information. But that was then. Good fortune and cunning, as I have said, were my hallmarks. Both factors played in my favor on the morn of the twenty-first, as my ritual decreed I savored brandy and a Montecristo in the library on the second floor rather than in the reception rooms with the others. Asher was telling one of his stories about, I believe, some far-flung adventure. The disruption came at the ringing of the ten o’clock bell, with Fairfax staggering in claiming to have been assaulted by a most unkempt fellow. His arm was bloodied, and Caruthers – a fine practitioner of the medical arts – set to attendance. The commotion outside soon became apparent, and the grand doors were closed almost immediately. I ventured down to see what assistance I could provide, but it was clear matters were well in hand. Beyond the confinement of the great club, however, the populace was busying themselves tearing at the walls of civilization. Never in my days had I thought to see Englishmen behave in such a fashion, for it was clear to all it wasn’t the expected troublemakers, but good and honest people who were acting in such an undignified manner on the streets.
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To read more and find out the depths to which Lord Henry Abercrombie falls, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Dead Man’s Shoes follows a young man named Carlo when he wakes on the autopsy slab at his local hospital to find that the world has ended and zombies have taken the place of almost every human on the planet. Almost. Carlo meets up with Antoinette as he tries to escape, and discovers that not only does she have strange powers over the walking dead; she seems to know more about Carlo than he does. As Antoinette brings Carlo closer to knowing the role he has to play in ending the apocalypse and saving the remnants of humanity, they are confronted by the demonic source of the plague, a creature named Legion. To battle the demon, Carlo must confront his past, and call upon the Voodoo god of death, Baron Samedi, to fight for the future of mankind.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
Carlo woke up in the morgue. He’d been awakened by screaming, and the echoes of it crashed around in his head. His muscles creaked as he rolled to the side on the examination table and sat, letting the sheet covering him fall away. Emergency lighting cast the room in halogen relief. He heard a soft, wet sound coming from behind the supply cupboard. A woman crouched there. She wore a thin hospital gown, so slick with blood it clung to her body, accentuating what had once been beautiful. She crouched over the body of a heavyset man. She reached down and wrenched a chunk of red meat out of his chest, then shovelled it into her mouth. Carlo gagged at the sight, and the corpse jerked her head up to look at him. Her eyes were milky white, and black veins stood out under the translucent skin on her face. She opened her mouth and hissed at him, a sound not even remotely human. Trying not vomit, he back away and tripped over something solid on the floor. Another moving corpse, its mouth working soundlessly as he fell beside it. Carlo screamed and thrashed back to his feet. Tears streamed down his face as he took in the rest of the morgue. There were five bodies in all, all awake. Only the woman and the body on the floor moved, the others were tied to exam tables. Bloody clothing littered the floor, vaguely medical, in a bio hazard way. He didn’t look too closely, afraid what the clothes might be covering. The dead woman rose slowly, blood dribbling from her open mouth. Her head lolled to one side, and her filmy eyes didn’t blink as she walked towards him. “Get away from me, get…” Carl’s dry throat reduced the words to a croak. She growled, from somewhere deep inside her, and the rotting meat stink filled the air between them. Something was wrong with the way the woman walked, as if she hung from the wires of a drunk puppeteer. He cringed away from her, driving his head back against the wall, his feet slipping in the blood on the floor. She sniffed him, like a dog at suspicious roadkill, then she extended her swollen purple tongue and licked across his eye. Carlo closed his eyes, feeling the dry rasp of her tongue scrape across his face, snagging his eyelid and dragging it open to see the veins creeping under her skin as she tasted him. Just as Carlo thought he was going to pass out, she moved, lurching back to the body she’d been eating. The other bodies still mouthed and grasped at him, but as long as he kept to the walls, they couldn’t touch him. The terror stayed with him for so long Carlo began feeling detached. In a quiet corner of his mind he felt his heart trying to leap out of his throat, his rapid breathing and the sweat running off his face and mixing with the blood on the floor. I have to get out. It was the first thought that counted as a thought instead of a pure terror reaction. He started looking around for the door. There. Tantalisingly close, just past the rows of grasping hands. Carlo took two deep breaths and charged as quickly as he could past the tied down bodies and into the double doors. A heavy chain held the doors closed. Carlo bounced off the doors and landed on his ass on the slick floor. He swore and pushed himself up to his feet. Carlo was a big guy, and he threw himself at the door again, aiming not at the chains but at the bolts holding the door to the frame. There was a loud crack, and the abused door tore out of the wall. Carlo entered the main hospital in a shower of splinters, just about running over a woman who’d appeared just to the right of the main door. They stood blinking at each other. “There you are. Do you have any idea how many morgues there are in this city?” Her eyes flicked behind him. “No, you stay where you are.” She pointed a long white stick over Carlo’s shoulder and unleashed a stream of words in a language that seemed oddly familiar to Carlo. He turned to look at the zombie woman who stood behind him, her mouth hanging open. The creature stood transfixed by the woman in the hallway. There was a long second where Carlo thought the zombie would attack her, but she simply swayed in place for a few moments before grunting and turning back into the darkness
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To read more and find out what happens to Carlo in his battle with Legion, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Love Me Dead or Alive is the touching… nay… poignant story of Mindy who is attempting to come to grips with her own mortality as her undead boyfriend pressures her to join him so they can be together forever. Titus has more to fear than just his girlfriend’s ticking mortal clock, though; an old school buddy is trying to force Titus’s hand in doing a little doctoring the dead. It’s the age old story of boy loves girl… girl loves boy… boy is dead and wants girl to be also but she isn’t sure if she is ready for that commitment… with zombie monkeys.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
The incessant dinging of the doorbell could either mean trouble or the neighbor kids. Titus opened the door just as Mindy dropped dead at his feet. Again. She needed to stop doing this. He snatched her up off the ground and carried her into his back room, laying her on the metal table. It looked like blood loss was the culprit this time. He lifted her shirt to see two stab wounds. Holy crap. She had to take more time off. Using the searing wand, he burnt the wounds closed while covering his nose. Burnt flesh smelled bad enough, but Mindy’s burnt flesh creeped him out like nothing else could. Finally, when he was certain she wasn’t just going to die all over again, he stabbed the hypodermic in her chest and flooded her heart with the solution before he hit her with the magnetic pulse. “C’mon, Mindy,” he whispered. He watched the monitors for her vital signs to spike. Crap. He hit her again with the magnetic pulse. The beat of her heart made him sigh. Her wounds started closing up as the enriched blood pumped through. Every time he did this he experienced a Dr. Frankenstein moment where he wanted to yell, “It’s alive,” but Mindy probably wouldn’t appreciate it… at all. Then again, he didn’t appreciate her dying on him. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him. “Hey, Beautiful.” Titus leaned over her and brushed some hair from her eyes. “You woke up just in time. I was starting to worry I was developing necrophilia. It turns out you look hotter alive than dead.” She laughed. “So, stop dying on me,” he said. She winced suddenly. “What? What’s wrong?” She really needed to stop the vigilante business. “My shoulder. I think that freak I took down knocked it out of its socket,” she said. His jaw tightened with disapproval as he leaned over and felt her shoulder. She just had to stop. If not for herself… for him…. “Don’t, Titus.” “Don’t what, Mindy? Don’t worry about you?” “It’s not that bad.” He shoved down and pulled on her arm. She screamed in pain and curled into a ball. Tucking his frame around hers, Titus rubbed the muscles on her back. She already showed signs of healing, but that hurt them both every time. “I’m fine.” “You’re not, Mindy. This is getting ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is seeing you dead? No, you don’t because I don’t keep dying on you.” “It doesn’t KEEP happening,” she said, sitting up. “Fifth time, babe. Fifth time,” he said, cleaning up the crash kit he kept near the door for just such occasions. “What if I can’t get to you within eight minutes? You know how complicated it is to restore brain cells in someone with oxygenated blood and a beating heart. They don’t always work right. You could end up as a real zombie.” He threw the syringe in the disposal, and it shattered which actually seemed to help his mood. “Not to mention I’ve never done this more than nine times on anything. Chester might have had nine lives in him, but who knows if you do. You’re a lot more complicated than a freaking cat, Mindy.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Shh, Titus,” she said. Her skin felt warm, and he tried to pretend it wasn’t nice… that he didn’t like the heat radiating off her. He rubbed his hands across her arms. If her skin was cold, it wouldn’t matter; he’d still love her… with all his cold, silent heart.
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To read more and find out what happens to Mindy, Titus, and the zombie monkeys, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Erik and Jaimy have a relationship that’s filled with love and commitment. There’s just one problem… she wants to eat him. He works hard to keep her grounded in the world of the living, but Amanda, Jaimy’s best friend, wants her to embrace all aspects of being undead, including munching on Erik, buffet-style. Erik knows that he’s fighting an impossible battle, but he’s become a zombie in many ways himself. When he’s left vulnerable, will Jaimy’s love save him or will she embrace her true nature and destroy him?
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But I Do Love You For Your Brain (A Zombie Love Story) by Jessica Capelle
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“I have to put my foot down, Jaimy. I mean it.” “Mmmmm… foot. Jaimy like foot.” She grins, and her jaw sags. It makes her look like the Joker. Good thing I like Batman. “Focus, sweetie. I’m serious. Amanda can’t come over if she’s going to attack me. Don’t you understand how that makes me feel?” “But foot good. Jaimy hungry.” “Enough with the foot!” I yell. Jaimy’s bottom lip drops below her chin, the zombie version of a pout. “I’m sorry, honey,” I sigh. “Let’s just finish the movie, okay?” She snuggles up to me and digs her head into my neck. The familiar smell of mold mixed with coconut shampoo clings to her limp, matted hair. No matter how often she showers, the mildew smell lingers. I’ve come to love that smell. I never planned to have a member of the undead as my girlfriend. My opinion of zombies had always been they were disgusting, unnatural creatures. Hell, they only existed in bad horror films until two years ago. No one’s sure how it started, but the current ratio of undead to “stays dead” is about even. After the initial panic, the government held mandatory classes on how to deal with zombies. Unlike the film versions, our zombies behaved pretty much like when they were alive. Once you got past their steep decline in I.Q. and their cravings for human flesh, you could almost forget what they were. Congress fast-tracked legislation to make it a crime to kill a zombie unless you were under attack. Zombie rights groups formed soon after, and the push for integration led to hate-crime legislation. The compromise was the installation of “big brother” cameras on every corner. With the cameras, you could prove you only acted to save yourself. Zombie hate crimes are pretty rare now, although I suspect that’s because many people provoke zombies into coming after them. Jaimy will graduate from King High this year, unless there’s another unfortunate incident with a teacher. But it’s really not her fault. Amanda is to blame for Jaimy’s slip-ups. She always tries to get Jaimy to eat people and destroy things. Just because they’re zombies doesn’t mean they can’t be civilized, but Amanda has completely embraced her inner zombie.
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To read more, and find out what happens to Erik and Jaimy, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
Sadie is a normal girl living with her mother, well, as normal as a girl who collects zombies can be. She didn’t start out to collect zombies, it just sort of happened…starting with the zombie animals who sought her out, and then Jess, the little girl. Predictably, the neighbors do not understand why Sadie feels the need to take care of the zombies and, as with most things not understood, fear develops.
It started with pets. I woke one morning to a familiar scratching noise and found my dog on my front porch. The dog who died a month ago. Barney didn’t hurt anyone and he didn’t eat much, so we let him stay. Mom worried at first he might start dropping hunks of fur – or flesh – on the floor, but if possible, he shed less in undeath than he did in life. Barney was the first, but he wasn’t the last. We hadn’t buried any other pets, but our neighbours had. When the owners turned their deceased pets away, the animals ended up on my doorstep. I couldn’t bring myself to make them leave, but letting them in the house wasn’t an option. Mom put up with Barney. The other animals? Not so much. She did, however, let me keep our old shed open for them. I put food out sometimes, but they never ate it. Neither did any living animals. In fact, fewer live creatures came around our house every day. Mom and I didn’t mind much. The raccoons finally stopped getting into our garbage. The neighbours whispered about me when the fourth silent dog slipped into the shed. The whispers increased when two birds and a rabbit joined the other animals. They neared shouts when the horse showed up, but where else could he go? Eventually, I found an open-minded farm where the horse had room to run. Mostly because he kept kicking up Mom’s flower beds. It hurt a little when people started calling me “Zombie Girl,” but I ignored them. And after a while, they lost interest. A few dead animals, even ones still walking around, weren’t as interesting as the latest celebrity gossip. Until the girl appeared on our front step. She freaked me out. Seeing as I slept with a dead dog on the end of my bed, that said a lot. Not that there was anything wrong with her, per se. She had all her parts, no bits of skin dropping off or loose teeth. Even her light blonde hair stayed long and thick. Dull, not anything like the shiny hair children her age usually possessed, but long and thick nonetheless. But when I opened the door and those flat silver eyes stared at me, I shrieked and slammed the door shut. Five minutes later, when I worked up the courage to open the door, she hadn’t moved so much as an inch. Mom wasn’t happy about the girl. But Jess wouldn’t tell me anything about her parents. I couldn’t contact them about her. Like my animals, she had nowhere to go and I became responsible for her survival, much like I was for the animals. I mean, she couldn’t have been more than nine when she died. Where else could she go?
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To read more, and find out what happens to Sadie and Jess, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
We’re giving you another excerpt from the debut Zombie Survival Crew Anthology: Undead Is Not An Option, but don’t forget, YOU can be a part of the second anthology!! Click here for more details.
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Bitten follows the final moments in the life of a woman, Emily, after she is bitten by a zombie. Her husband, Zach, pulls her into an alley, attempting to hide from the horde of zombies out on the street. While Emily deals with the emotions involved with her imminent death, Zach tries to protect her from the zombies her cries attract. When Zach realizes Emily’s bite is infected, he does his best to comfort her as she falls slowly from human to zombie.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt may have some strong language.
We ran. Tired feet slammed against asphalt. Chests rose and fell in short bursts of breath. My heart felt ready to burst. Out of nowhere, I was struck by pain and collapsed in the street. Legs rushed past my head; the others kept on without me. “Emily!” Zach’s voice. He crouched next to me, also out of breath. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have you.” All I saw was sky as he pulled me out of the street. A crowd of those—things—rushed by after our group. Their groan, that terrible sound of a thousand starved stomachs, filled my ears. The ground was cold and rough under me, and then wet. Zach propped me up against something that stank like the monsters that were chasing us. “Gross,” I said. I looked up at Zach. “Sorry,” he said, and brushed a few stray hairs from my face. “You’re safe now.” I watched the shine of Zach’s ring as he touched my face and thought of our wedding day. It was wonderful. In that alley, though, behind a dumpster, being chased by those creatures – and on top of it all, a cold, wet, smelly ass—being at the altar with Zach seemed like a long time ago. I listened for signs of the creatures chasing us. The echo of their moans had faded from the alley, but I still smelled them. Then again, I probably just smelled the dumpster. Zach examined my shoulder. “What’s up?” I asked. “Your shoulder,” he said. “Did you get bit?” “What?” I felt where he’d been inspecting; it stung. I winced a bit. “It’s nothing,” I said. “Probably just a scratch from when I fell.” “Look at your hand,” Zach said. Blood stained the tips of my fingers. “You got bit,” he said. “Your shirt’s ripped there.” He pointed to my sleeve. “Shit,” he said, “there’s teeth marks.” “It’s fine,” I said. “Come on, we’ve got to catch up with the others.” I tried to get up, but Zach held me back. He ripped my sleeve and pulled it down. “They’ll be okay. You won’t. Relax, Emily.” “What do you mean I won’t?”
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To read more, and find out what happens to Emily and Zach, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
We’re giving you another excerpt from the debut Zombie Survival Crew Anthology: Undead Is Not An Option, but don’t forget, YOU can be a part of the second anthology!! Click here for more details.
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Zombie Survival Crew First Lieutenant Neil Brown Jr. has got the survival gig down pat. You may know him for his on-screen characters’ fights with zombies or aliens in productions like The Walking Dead and Battle: Los Angeles, but this wise-crackin’ vato has got skills – and the Katana to back ‘em up. This son of a marine takes a look at what we should all have pre-packed in our go bags for the kind of day we hope never comes.
Grab Your Go Bag (…and get it right!) By Neil Brown, Jr.
Dad always used to say “police your brass” and “you need to know whether you’re hurt or injured.” And that’s just the way he raised me—to live a clean life, depend on common sense and preparation to get me through life’s bumps and bruises, and develop the mental fortitude to push through the hurts.
Served me well even from a young age. When I was about 12, on one of our many family salt water fishing trips, I tumbled off the side of the boat in the early morning while everyone else was still sleeping. I know, I know. Shouldn’t have been hanging over the side of the boat in the first place.
Even though I was terrified and screaming like crazy, I remembered what my dad taught me—tie the ends of my pants together, lift the whole thing up over the water and push down to grab the air and make a mini-life preserver. It worked. I bobbed in the water for several minutes before my dad dove in to rescue me. And it was about ten years before my dad or I told mom about the incident. What? She never would have let me go on another fishing trip.
It was common sense and preparation that saved me all those years ago, and that very same combination is our best shot during a cataclysmic event, like a Zombiepocalypse.
As for me, I can catch a rabbit, squirrel or fish in the woods faster than I can find you a gas station, so my go bag is naturally geared more towards hunting and gathering—even so it’s a combination of items that will serve any would-be survivor well.
Adrian Ring is our intrepid hero here, having just barely survived a world consuming apocalypse of the undead. Adrian’s Diary chronicles his battles with the zombie hordes and his ongoing struggle with survival. Read and understand exactly how he has lived up to this point, avoiding starvation, zombies, injuries, sickness, as well as sharing in his humor and his horror. Adrian’s Undead Diary is an online chronicle and features stories that intersect with the happenings in the journal as well.
Please note because the characters are dealing with a zombie outbreak, this excerpt has some strong language.
It’s pretty fucking cold out tonight. The big ass plastic thermometer on the tree outside says its 35F out tonight. I’m glad I figured out where the emergency generator is here, otherwise I would be freezing my balls off now. Despite the fact that this place was kind of a bitch to clear out, I’m glad I did it. It’s got everything I need to survive for a long time.
I don’t even really know where to start. It’s a Tuesday today. At least I know what day it is. Someone in the main office building was wise enough to buy their calendar early this year so it’ll be easy for me to keep track of the days until the end of next year. After that I guess I’ll have to use some of the graph paper and make my own calendar. That’s being pretty optimistic though. The way the last few months have been I’ll be goddamn lucky to make Christmas, let alone next Christmas.
I decided to start writing this mainly to keep track of my daily activities and to have a way to purge my nugget. Frankly I talk to myself way too goddamn much to be mentally healthy and I was always told that writing a journal helped. Sooo… let’s call this my journal. Thank God for spell check. I also realize that now is not the best time to be writing. I’m using up some of my gasoline to run the generator, which is basically a waste, and honestly having any lights on at night draws them in. Moths to a flame as the old saying goes. But I can’t sleep and I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time now. Having the electricity back has set a fire under my ass to do this.
My name is Adrian Ring. I lived what I would now call as only a moderately successful life. I was happy, but I had pretty low standards. I had a girlfriend, I had a small condo downtown, I still have my cat (score!), and I have thus far avoided being eaten by the undead. Surprise! There’s the twist in the story. I fucking love horror movies. Like seriously. I watched well over a thousand of them and always used to plot and plan should zombies ever rise from the dead and take over the world. Irony in all that is that when the shit hit the fan it happened so fast that any kind of plan would’ve been almost impossible to execute.
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To read more, and find out what happens to Adrian and his cat, check out Undead Is Not An Option.
As you know, the Zombie Survival Crew command is always alert and on the look out for zombie related activity. During one of my forays into the twitterverse, I noted a higher than average zombie reading coming from the literary sector. Proceeding with caution, I investigated and found an amazing occurrence… none other than Jonathan Maberry tweeting about Dead of Night, Rot & Ruin, and Dust & Decay. Clearly this was someone who has knowledge we need on the crew. So, I took a chance and retweeted to see how he would respond. He followed me. Normally, as you know, I consider following a suspect activity, but in this case, I considered it a compliment. Still holding observation, I watched his tweet patterns and the more I watched, the more impressed I became with his professionalism. I plotted my approach. And Jonathan responded eagerly.
When it comes to an individual who knows the enemy, Jonathan has done more than his share of the research. And he shares his knowledge with us all to help us prepare. Not only that, he has major street-cred as a kenjutsu instructor and has been a martial arts instructor for almost 50 years. Who better to lead the Special Forces in hand-to-rotting limb combat? Zombie Survival Crew please raise your weapons and welcome our newest commander in the Special Forces NY Times Bestseller and Multiple Bram Stoker Award winner, Jonathan Maberry!!!!
And as a treat, below is the trailer for his latest novel, Dead of Night!
With the holidays upon us, things have been a little hectic around the command center. Not only are processing all the reports coming in of suspected zombie activity, and with the cold temperatures who knows what will happen, the Oracle is dancing around sprinkling tinsel everywhere and has put up so many blinking lights the command center looks like a 70’s discotech. So despite the serious task at hand, command does have the holiday spirit.
And now to bring you a little holiday cheer is the commander of the Orange Brigade, our very own RC Murphy. And if this isn’t proof that she’s been spending too much time with the zombie bunnies, then I don’t know what is.
Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse (to the tune of Winter Wonderland)
lyrics by RC Murphy
Zombies groan, can you hear ’em? On the walls, blood is glistenin’ A horrific sight, A world full of fright Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse.
Gone away is the old world, Here to stay is a new world Of death everywhere And being so scared, Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse.
On the sidewalk lays a rotting body, It begins to twitch and moan and groan. He’ll rise, very hungry We’ll arm up then And blow that sucker’s Brains all over town.
Later on, he’ll expire, As we set him on fire His face full of rage We’re saving the day, Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse
Everybody SING! Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse… Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse… Walkin’ in a Zombiepocalypse…
A gentleman’s club becomes a refuge for the well-to-do when the dead rise, through one member has a dark secret hanging over his head which threatens all who discover it. One by one the group’s number dwindles, until there is nothing left to do but the unthinkable. This alternate history zombie tale recounts the final days in the life of one of the survivors, as his time – and the 1930s – draws to a dark close.
From the Oracle’s laboratory
With the holidays upon us, things have been a little hectic around the command center. Not only are processing all the reports coming in of suspected zombie activity, and with the cold temperatures who knows what will happen, the Oracle is dancing around sprinkling tinsel everywhere and has put up so many blinking lights the command center looks like a 70’s discotech. So despite the serious task at hand, command does have the holiday spirit.
And blow that sucker’s