Letterpress
Friday, September 28, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Zombie Files: Exiled at Sea - The Finale
Down With the
Ship
The unlocked door to Moore's room
swung open as Gerard walked though it with his pistol drawn. The guards had
absconded once the fire had consumed The
Hyperion's lower levels, so there was no one to impede him. Gerard saw
Moore sitting behind a large, mahogany desk drinking a glass of single malt scotch contently.
“I was wondering
when someone would walk through my door looking to put a bullet in my head,”
Moore said as he took a long sip from his glass. “Come in, have a drink before
you kill me.”
Gerard closed the
door behind him and took a seat. Admiral Moore tipped the bottle of scotch over
into an empty glass as liquor splashed carelessly over the sides.
“Do you know who I
am?” Gerard asked the man.
“Well, I know you're
not the Butcher. You have his mask, but I'd be dead already if you were really
him. If I had to wager, I'd say the explosion that's currently sinking my ship
was the result of the real Butcher.
So, to answer your question, I don't really give a fuck who you are.”
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Zombie Files: Exiled at Sea - Part Five
He Who Fights Monsters
Before Gerard could
utter another word to his father, Forrest and the rest of the islanders
surrounded the both of them. They were armed with the spoils of their victory
that day. Forrest spoke with a new found sense of leadership as well, “What are
you doing with the Butcher, Gerard?”
“That's impossible,
this man is my father. His name is Richard, and there's no way he could be that
merciless maniac,” Gerard insisted as he moved closer to his father, blocking
their line of fire. They would have none of that.
Zombie Files: The Cadence of the Dead Part Two
48 months ago:
Every
time I closed my eyes I saw flashes that started when Jacob and I left the
city. The flashes began as nightmares, and then they slowly approached the
surface as lucid dreams, becoming instant memories of constant surreal images. Some
of those images were fragmented and blurry, but some were clear as day. Nothing
made sense anymore, between slipping into REM and waking to real life.
Everything began to blend together and I frequently forgot what was real. When
I slept, I saw a little girl with a blurry face surrounded by plants as she
crouched down, holding her knees. I could hear her laughing and whispering,
“You found me!” I saw her again in the backseat of a car, with a pacifier
clutched in her hand. I saw a crib with a yellow blanket in it and a voice in
the background singing her to sleep. I saw many things that didn’t make sense,
but they slowly started to seem oddly familiar and peaceful. When I woke up,
the electricity was out, the food was gone, the smell of rotting flesh never
ceased to be incredibly rancid. Gunfire was rapid and constant with screaming
in between, hospital buildings were evacuating and burning, and the local
animal shelters freed their animals out into an even crueler world than they
were brought into. People were running and Ferals were chasing them, but
eventually there were no more people to chase. Every movement turned into
shuffling and every sound turned into low grumbling. There was no more order to
the surrounding chaos. After fleeing the city and staying in a nearby town didn’t
suffice, eventually there wasn’t even ONE place the Ferals couldn’t get to. The
only temporary getaway was the mountains, so Jacob and I packed our bags once
again.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
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