April 11, 2011

From “Nerf Headshot” by Cull McPherson Davies

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“I just don’t see how a harmless little game of ‘Hunters vs Infected’ is such a big deal,” Mikey whined. “It’s bandannas and nerf darts. Nobody’s dying.”

“You’d do well to remember two situations, Mikey,” Dr. Jonsen said. “Osborn College and Southern Michigan University.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” said Mikey.

Jonsen sighed. “About eight years ago, a game of ‘Hunters vs. Infected’ went on at Osborn. Things got out of hand thanks to a big reward for the winner offered by the fraternity council. By the end, the survivors holed themselves up in an abandoned dormitory with canned food and snipers on the roof.”

Mikey laughed. “That’s what they get for having a reward. Our only prize is bragging rights.”

“Then you might pay more attention to what happened at SMU. Their game of ‘Hunters vs. Infected’ coincided with an outbreak of cordyceps meningoencephalitis. Ninety people died and the rest were sick for months.”

“Are you…are you saying that a real zombie outbreak happened during the game?” Mikey said, eyes wide as saucers.

“Perhaps,” Jonsen said. “The official report was rather vague.”

“You’re going to have to tell me more about that.”

 

December 19, 2010

From “The Dentch Expediency” by Carl C. Claytone

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“We need to resort to the Dentch expediency,” Sawyer said grimly.

He was met by blank stares.

“We draw a line over yonder,” he continued after a moment. “And make the run. Whoever the five slowest runners are get a double-tap because they’re either succumbing to infection or because they’d just bog us down.”

“Saywer, have a seat while I tell you all the things that are terribly wrong with that idea,” said Cunningham, “starting with the fact that there are exactly five of us.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy. But the zombies aren’t going to go easy on us either.”

 

October 16, 2010

From “The Cascadia Haven” by Lea Yuki Nakamura

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The haven south of Cascadia had once been a gated residential development, called Maplewood, laid out as a series of brick townhouses in a cul-de-sac, fenced in and surrounded by a drainage ditch with a pool and a common green in the middle. When it was being built, students from Osborn University had picketed it, citing Maplewood as a particularly egregious example of urban sprawl and a lack of eco-consciousness.

Later, when the city was overrun by the Addled and violent marauders from the countryside, Maplewood found a new lease on life. The narrow gaps between townhouse blocks were filled in with chunks of torn-up pavement, the ground-floor windows and doors facing out were bricked up, and the cul-de-sac became a fortress. With the pavement torn up for use in fortifications, the fallow land beneath was sewn with crops. The recreational complex in the middle was filled with lifestock, and a well was sunk near the pool which found a new calling as a reservoir. Close proximity to a sporting goods superstore–which had also been picketed into its location on Cascadia’s outskirts–gave the refugees within the means to defend themselves.

That, coupled with the position’s natural defensive value, had allowed it to endure when other havens in the area, like the one at Osborn University, had been overrun. Harrister usually saw to it that he made a trading stop there; the Maplewoodlians knew the value of what he peddles and had picked the rest of Cascadia bare.

Now, that easy money looked increasingly like salvation.

 

July 19, 2010

From “Nefarious Times in Depression-Era Central City” by F. G. Jims

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The projector stuttered for a moment as the projectionist changed reels. After a moment of distortion, the newsreel began to flicker on the silver screen.

“Central City News Corporation presents: News on Parade!” the announcer intoned, sounding to all the world like an overeager color commentator at Central Stadium.

“Crime Watch! Be on the lookout for these notorious gangsters, hoodlums, and criminals! Report any sightings to the theater management or the nearest CCPD dispatcher! Remember, these vile persons may be in the theater alongside you!”

“That’ll be the day,” Günter muttered.

A man appeared, sneering into the mugshot camera. “Rex Fuzzgaze, the thought-stealer! This diabolical Liverpudlian sorcerer has perfected the subtle art of mind control, impressing others with his gaze and using them for his nefarious purposes! Do not approach!”

Günter snorted. “Needs to see a barber about those eyebrows.”

An unassuming-looking businessman, well-groomed, holding his card with no clear expression. “Pendleton Carvey, the mad mechanical genius! His nefarious automata held up the Central Reserve just last week! Wanted dead or dying!”

“Probably didn’t have enough to occupy his mind during his day job,” Günter opined.

A woman, very pretty except for deeply sunken eyes and stringy hair. “Macha DeVries, the mutant mistress of ghouls! An accident at a university labs has placed her in a state of living death with command over the recently deceased! Won’t be taken alive!”

“Hmph,” said Günter. “I don’t believe that one for a moment. Too fantastic.”

“You’re right about that,” his seat neighbor croaked, stretching a pale, bony hand into her bucket of popcorn. “The camera adds at least ten pounds.”

 

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