Burning My Passport, Never to Return

The Traveling Vampire Show marked my third trip into Laymon Country, a trip I swore I would never make after my second venture, The Cellar, but I was urged to pick this up by a friend because it was unlike any of his others. Reluctantly, I agreed to give it a try. Having finished it, I have decided to burn my passport and not return.

When the novel opens, we are introduced to Dwight, the sixteen-year-old narrator of the story (or maybe he's seventeen -- the fact that I can't remember is a clear indicator of how much of an impression this book made on me), and his pals, the slightly overweight Rusty and tom-boy Slim. It becomes evident early on that Dwight has the hots for Slim, but he isn't confident enough to do anything about it. Based on his thoughts early on in the story, you can imagine he spends quite a bit of his time masturbating or taking cold showers, but I'll come back to this.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, Dwight is mowing the lawn and his pals persuade him to take a break. Rusty has something he wants him to see. He produces a flier for The Traveling Vampire Show, which boasts to have a real-live vampire in captivity. The show is open for one night only, with an age restriction of 18+. Knowing they will never be allowed in, they decided to sneak over to Janks Field with the hopes of catching the showing setting up for that night's performance. None of them truly believe the vampire is real, but she is described as gorgeous and beguiling, so Rusty is hoping to get to see her. It takes some doing to persuade Dwight, but he finally gives in and they head off on their adventure.

The trio arrive at Janks Field before the Traveling Vampire Show arrives, so they plan on hiding in the surrounding woods until they show up. Their plans are foiled when they are attacked by a stray dog. They tack shelter a-top an abandoned snack stand, where they discuss how they are going to get away from the dog. Dwight comes up with a plan, and hopes nobody holds it against him if he kills the dog. He plans on jumping from the roof onto the animal, thereby crushing it and making the grounds safe for his friends. He missed, and while his friends create a diversion, drawing the animal's attention away from Dwight, the teen hightails it out of there with the promise of coming back with help.

By the time he returns in the company of his sister-in-law, they find the show has arrived and the troupe is on the process of setting up. There is, however, no sign of his friends. He fears the worst, thinking they fell victim to foul play at the hands of the workmen setting up the show. His sister-in-law manages to snag four tickets for the show after some innocent flirtation with the boss man. With nothing left to go on, they return home to find Rusty waiting for them. He confesses that he and Slim left just as they show was arriving, and Slim went on home to change her clothes. When they head on over to Slim's house, they find she is not at home, and they automatically jump to the conclusion that members of The Traveling Vampire Show have kidnapped her. When she finally turns up, she tells them of the atrocity she witnessed -- the Vampire troupe killed the stray, stabbed it to death with long spears before placing it in the back of a hearse. This kind of puts a damper on their desire to see the show -- well, Rusty still wants to see the beautiful, beguiling vampire. Dwight and Slim? They really don't want to go, but they decided to let Lee, Dwight's sister-in-law, have the deciding vote after they tell her everything.

When they get to Lee's house, they find she is missing. Her car is still in the driveway, her purse still on the counter. The jump to the conclusion that the Traveling Vampire troupe kidnapped her. After all, she paid for the tickets with a check, and the check had her address on it.

The rest of the book is more of the same, with the kids letting their overactive imaginations run away, leading them to jump to the wrong conclusions. By they time they get to the show, the book is more than three-quarters done. The action that takes place at the show is decent, but not realistic. Granted, men wish to show off for their friends and girlfriends, but when the first person is carried out in a bloody mess, that should be enough to make them think twice before getting into the cage with the vampire. It's not even enough to stop Rusty, who is thinking with his little head. The minute he saw the vampire strip down to nothing in the cage, he just knew he was going to volunteer. He's hoping for a cheap thrill, a few quick gropes, maybe more.

Which leads me to one of the problems I had with this book, and the problem I have with Richard Laymon in general. His books seem to be targeted for a horny teen male audience. A chapter doesn't go by that Dwight isn't thinking about sex; every time he sees Slim, he needs to describe the clothes she is wearing, with emphasis on the black bathing suit top under her white t-shirt, or the absence of a top beneath the t-shirt, which gets him hard. In one scene, he has actually suffered a premature ejaculation because he and Slim kissed. By the time the book is over, you kind of feel sorry for the kid because you know he's just got to have a major case of blue balls. Even when driving with is sister-in-law, he knows he shouldn't, but he keeps trying to catch peeks of her breasts through the gap in her blouse. These are actions I expect from curious 10 and 11 year old kids, not 16 year olds. A preoccupation with sex seems to take priority over realistic responses to certain situations. Add to this they way they are always jumping to the wrong conclusions, I get the feeling I'm dealing with young kids, not teenagers.

The second problem I had with the book is the absence of The Traveling Vampire Show. We don't get to the show until the final quarter of the book, and by that point I don't care any more. The actions leading up to the show are drawn out and unrealistic. I know horror fiction in itself is unrealistic, and the ability to suspend your disbelief is crucial. This is the third Laymon book I have read, and in each instance, I didn't just suspend my disbelief, I crumpled it up like a used tissue and flushed it down the toilet. Half way through the book, I stopped caring what happened to the characters. Their stupidity had me hoping they would all meet some gruesome ending.

The sad thing is, reading the jacket copy, the books actually sound like they might be good. When I picked up The Cellar, I thought it was an awesome idea. And it was. It was just poorly executed to the point where I was tempted to put it down. When the woman is captured by the creatures, I actually smiled, much the way I smiled when Rusty met his fate.

I know Laymon has a following and there are readers out there who praise him to high heaven. I'm not one of them. People who criticize Laymon are often said to be missing the point by those who hold him up on a pedestal. Maybe I am missing the point, but that isn't enough to tempt me to venture into another Laymon novel in search of that revelation. As I close the book on The Traveling Vampire Show, I am burning my passport, never to return to Laymon Country

To Sleep Per Chance to Dream. . .

Georgina Kincaid is in Hell.

You would think this wouldn't be such a bad place to be for the eternally damned, but not even the Arch Demons would be so cruel as to torment one of their own with the situation Georgina has found herself in with Richelle Mead's fifth outing into Supernatural Seattle, Succubus Shadows.

For those not familiar with Georgina Kincaid, she is a succubus, a female demon who sucks the life essence from the men she sleeps with. The purer the soul, the stronger the essence. She can shape-shift into any form she so desires, including her wardrobe, so you would think life wouldn't be bad, but after centuries of such existence, Georgina has become unhappy. She longs for love, she wants to settle down with one guy, get married, raise a family, what every red-blooded American girl should want. But by her very nature, this is impossible. Her immortality and fear for the safety of Seth Mortensen, the object of her affections, is one of contributing factors that lead to their breakup. For the full back story, you will need to check out Mead's previous novels.

When Succubus Shadows opens, Georgina is throwing a combination house-warming/Halloween party for her new apartment. After winning a drinking match with a coworker and still reeling from the effects of the alcohol, Georgina reluctantly agrees to help Maddie Sato, her best mortal friend and coworker, plan her wedding to Seth. Helping your best friend plan a wedding to the ex you still love would be enough to drive a mortal woman to slit her wrists, but being immortal, suicide is not an option for Georgina. Instead, she spirals into a depression, an almost constant state for her since breaking up with Seth.

As if that wasn't enough, a mysterious force is preying on Georgina, using her darkened mood to try to seduce her. It calls to her with a siren-like song, promising her freedom from the pain she is feeling, and while Roman, senses the presence of this otherworldly power, he is unable to recognize the signature, which troubles him. He warns Georgina not to listen to the tempting voice, but eventually, worn down by her own dark thoughts, she succumbs to the seduction and disappears off the supernatural radar. Jerome, the Arch Demon of Seattle and Georgina's boss, can no longer sense her. It's like she no longer exists, which means her supernatural signature is being masked, or she is no longer in this realm of existence. They know she is still alive because if somebody has succeeded in killing her, she would have shown up in Hell. The search is own. Jerome MUST find Georgina before word of her disappearance reaches the inner circles of Hell. Jerome is in enough trouble with the demonic Powers That Be because he had allowed himself summoned and held captive be a dark sorcerer. If word gets out that he has lost one of his charges, well. . . there would be hell to pay.

Meanwhile, Georgina finds herself being held captive by the Oneroi, twin creatures of the Dream Realm who are seeking revenge for Georgina's part in the re-capture and imprisonment of their mother by the Angels. As their captive, Georgina is forced to dream. Some of the dreams are true, some are false, and some are a combination of both, but the endless stream of images leaves her questioning what is and isn't true. With each dream, the Oneroi feed, weakening Georgina to the point where she fears for her sanity.

Can she manage to reserve enough energy to escape the Dream Realm, or must she pin her flagging hopes on her friends and their ability to find her? Does this spell the end for our favorite shape-shifting demon from Hell?

First off, let me say that I love this series. Yeah, it's Chick Lit, but I look forward to each installment with all the anxiety of an expectant father. Each book in the series gets progressively better, and Succubus Shadows is, in my opinion, the best so far. Granted, not much happens in the way of action, but we are given further insight into Georgina's character through the dreams the Oneroi force her to experience and we learn more about her past.

In my previous review of Succubus Heat, I discussed my feelings about Seth and Georgina's relationship, as well as her relationship with Roman. Both men are present in Succubus Shadows, and despite having tried to kill Georgina in the past, we see Roman's feelings for Georgina growing, and while Georgina reflects on their past relationship and wonders if there could be a future for her and Roman, she is still unable to let go of Seth. The more Seth and Georgina try to keep away from each other, the more they find themselves in situations that only strengthen their ties to each other. The idea behind the series is formulaic in that I have a feeling we are seeing a Boy meets Girl, Boy Loses Girl, Boy gets Girl situation, but it is a story that has lasted centuries. Through Georgina's dreams we have learned that in her lifetime, she has developed emotional bonds to a few men who were of strong moral fiber, only to lose them. I find myself wondering if these men are all the same man. I'm not implying that Seth is by any mean a supernatural creature, but certain revelations within Succubus Shadows have me wondering if Seth, as well as the other men that Georgina has fallen for during her long life, are the reincarnation of Kyriakos, the husband she had betrayed while in her mortal existence, who is trying to reconnect with his soul mate. The fact that Carter, an Angel who likes to pal around with the Demons, seems particularly interested in Georgina's relationship with Seth, adds to the intrigue. Is it possible that if Georgina is able to reconnect with her long-lost soul mate she might be able to be redeemed and regain her soul, thereby regaining her mortal existence? This may seem a predictable story line if this is the direction Richelle Mead is choosing to take, but the ride we are on getting there is one never to be forgotten.

If you have not yet made Georgina's acquaintance, I strongly urge you to pick up Succubus Blues, the first in the series, and introduce yourself. Guaranteed, won't be disappointed.

CUT! That's a Wrap!

CUT! That's a Wrap!

What Alyssa wouldn't give to hear those words again. However, when her agent "unknowingly" sends her on an audition for a porno film, she realizes that while she may be desperate to get back into the film business, there are some things she just won't do. Sex is one of them. Murder, on the other hand. . .

Alyssa Peyton was once a reigning Scream Queen. With her Director husband, they were destined for great things. His horror films were highly successful, and she, being the star, was once a household name. But the husband and, by extension, the roles are gone. He has a new wife, and with her a new star. The roles that once fell into Alyssa's lap because her husband wouldn't do a film without her are now going to Jessica Palmer. As a result, Alyssa relies on horror conventions to relive her glory days.

This is where she meets Taryn, a 19-year old lesbian who is probably Alyssa's No.1 fan. The actress is also the subject of many a fantasy. When problems at home become unbearable and the teen walks out, she turns to the object of her affections, Alyssa, who willingly allows the troubled teen to stay with her. It is a codependent relationship -- Alyssa needs to be loved by her fans and Taryn needs to love Alyssa -- but it takes awhile for Alyssa to realize the extent of Taryn's love for her. Sound familiar? Famous celebrity and idolizing number one fan? It's not what you might think.

Another failed audition crushes Alyssa. To lose the role, a role she feels she was born to play, is bad enough, but to lose it to Jessica Palmer is more than Alyssa can take. The woman has stolen everything from her -- her husband, her place in his films, and now this. What's the point in going on? She turns to the only thing that she feels will free her from the pain -- pills and alcohol.

It seems she can't succeed in anything anymore, not even suicide. Taryn rescues her from the brink of death, but it is too late. During her hospitalization, Alyssa's descent into madness starts. She realizes that she was trying to cut out the pain, but she wasn't getting the pain at the root. The root of all her pain is Jessica Palmer and the man who betrayed her. With Taryn as an unwitting accomplice, Alyssa sets out to eradicate the source of her pain and those who have betrayed her.

Brandon Ford's Splattered Beauty is a thrill ride into the depths of madness. His depiction of the aging film star is one part Norma Desmond, one part Annie Wilkes, as she is her own number one fan. With the revelations of her abused childhood and abandonment issues that stem from her mother walking out when she was young, the slide down the slippery slope of sanity and over the edge is believable and heartbreaking. While you read open-mouthed at the atrocities she commits, you can't help but feel sorry for her as her life spins out of control. Taryn, as the devoted companion/love interest, is another story. While the old adage that love is blind might hold true for some things, to allow yourself to become an accessory to multiple murders is something I had a hard time believing. Having witnessed numerous instances of the older woman's instability, there were plenty of chances for her to beat a hasty retreat, but she chooses to stay. Her weak nature and her ability to be so easily manipulated often had me hoping that Alyssa would grow tired of the troubled teen and deliver to her a particularly gory death. You want the girl to run like hell and get away, and when she doesn't, you kind of hope she gets what stupidity gets you in most horror films and novels.

I mentioned in a review of Ford's Crystal Bay that the author was a new voice in horror who holds promise in the genre. I stand by this assessment. Splattered Beauty is a well-written, fast-paced joy ride that will have you glued to the edge of your seat. Don't miss it!

When Nature Strikes Back. . .

Do you remember as a child being glued to the TV while a community fought for their lives against an invading army of giant ants? Or a giant tarantula? Or a giant preying mantis? I do. I remember being glued to my seat as the giant menace appeared on screen to lay waste to the town. Even now, although the special effects of some of those movies are so hokey now that they are laughable, I still enjoy watching The Deadly Mantis, THEM!, Empire of the Ants, etc., so when I saw William Meikle's Crustaceans, a tale of giant crabs loose in New York City, I jumped at the chance to read it.

When a dead whale washes up on a New England Beach, a small team of marine biologists are called in to determine the cause of death. As they prepare to take their samples, something with the belly of the beasts manages to rip its way out and proceeds to tear part the scientists. Meanwhile, Joe Porter, a New England fisherman, is out at sea pulling in his traps, hoping to bring in enough Blue Crab to keep him in smokes and booze. His catch is better than he could ever have hoped to imagine. Amongst his haul, he notices one crab that is larger than the others, and having spent more years on the sea than he cares to count, he knows this crab is no Blue. Besides the size, this one is more aggressive than the others. He succeeds in getting it into the net with the rest of his catch and watches in horror and disbelief at the one crab rips through the entire haul of Blues. Back on shore, rather than sell the remaining crab, Porter puts it in a tank, believing there's something special about the crab.

Wanting to know what killed the team of biologists, the Government calls on the expertise of Shona Menzies, a marine biologist who specializes in crabs. What she sees on a series of videos shown to her by the head of the operation, Colonel Stark, chills her to the bone. She realizes that her father was right in his assumptions and the giant crabs are back.

While studying the immediate area and trying to find evidence as to where the crabs might have gone, they receive a call that a small group of whales washed up on a beach in Long Island, and unlike the one they are studying, these one are still alive. While they are taking off to investigate the latest incident, Joe Porter has noticed that the crab in his possession has grown dramatically over the period of two weeks. Thinking he might be able to make a small fortune selling it to one of the zoos or aquariums, loads the tank into the back of his truck and makes for Central Park to negotiate with one of the curators what he thinks would be a fair price for the crab.

The military arrive on the scene in Long Island just as the crabs eat their way out of the bodies of the whales. While trying to clean up this mess, they receive a distress call regarding a ferry that is on a collision course for one of New York City's piers. While trying to prevent the collision, they discover that the shiver is crawling with the giant crabs. Even with their heavy artillery, they are unable to destroy all of the crabs. Most of them rip their way through the hull and make their way for the city, which contains a maze of sewers, active subway tunnels, and abandoned tunnels.

And the hunt is on. Will the military and one lone fisherman be able to find and put an end to the hundreds, maybe thousands, of giant, man-eating crabs that are now loose beneath the streets of New York City, or will the city fall under the onslaught of the killer crustaceans?

Reading Crustaceans, I was transported back to the days of my youth, and was thoroughly engrossed in Meikle's story. At one point in my reading, I had to pause and wonder if maybe I hadn't missed an earlier book, as there is a reference to a previous attack in years past, however, it wasn't enough to stop me from reading. In fact, I was completely immersed in the events as they unfolded that I didn't stop to question certain "holes" until after I was done. Given that there was previous contact with the crabs, and it was Shona's father who lead the investigation, in fact, he dedicated his life to pursuing these giant beasts, I was expecting more history. Where did they giant crabs come from? Are they they result of genetic experimentation gone wrong? Are they a species that mutated after being exposed to fallout from nuclear testing? Are they survivors of the prehistoric times that have been reawakened because the polar caps are melting? I was disappointed in that there was no attempt to explain where they came from.

I think part of my disappointment stems from the fact that I read a digital version of this book and was judging how much I had left to go by the percentage indicated at the bottom of the screen. When I hit 65-70% marker and came across THE END, I felt cheated (the remainder of the book was dedicated to a preview of a future work). I was like WTF? That's the end? That can't be the end. For me, that's a mark of a good story where I find myself wanting more and it isn't there. My only hope is that Meikle will pick up where he left off with this story and explore the origins of the great beasts.

I will be the first to admit that Crustaceans is not for everybody, but if you were (are?) a fan of movies like The Deadly Mantis, Food of the Gods, THEM!, then I would highly recommend it.

Tell me a story. . .

Tell me a story. Those words haunted Kenneth Nicholson for years, terrorized his waking hours to the point where he had been forced to abandon his family and the man he loved to start a new life in another state. Not that his new life was anything to brag about -- work and a string of meaningless relationships -- but it wasn't haunted by his past.

When the phone call comes from his ex-wife to tell him that their son has been brutally beaten and his chances of survival are slim, Ken is forced to return to New Orleans. Nobody except his ex-wife knew he was coming back, so when the phone rings and a woman on the other end says, "Welcome home, baby," followed by, "Tell me a story," Ken knows there is something more to his son's attack than just a random beating. When it is discovered that his son's fiancee has vanished, Ken believes she had something to do with it. This is confirmed when the address the woman has given turns out to be where Ken spent a portion of his youth -- and the source of his nightmares.

The home is a rundown mansion formerly known as Wonderland. It was also the home of Travis Brugier, Ken's one-time lover and a man of formidable wealth, influence, and Power. Ken knows in that instant that Travis is responsible for what happened to his son. But Travis is dead by his own hand. The man committed suicide when Ken made it known he wanted out. Now Travis wants him back, and he will stop at nothing until Ken returns to him, even murder, as he demonstrates when Bobby, Ken's son, is killed while in the hospital. Can Travis be stopped before everyone close to Ken suffers?

Rarely have I been blown away by a book the way I was with The Dust of Wonderland. I bought it a couple of years ago and just let it sit on my shelf. It's published by Alyson Books, an established gay and lesbian publisher, and that in itself was enough to make me keep it on the shelf. It has been my experience that many of the gay and lesbian novels I have read are so poorly written and boring, it takes me forever to get through them. In short, I was afraid to pick it up because I didn't want to be disappointed. After reading Lee Thomas' novel, I can only say, What the hell was keeping me from this book?

With The Dust of Wonderland, Lee Thomas has created a haunting, heartbreaking masterpiece that will have you on the edge of your seat to the very last page. He paints a portrait of a man who is forced to confront the nightmares of his past in order to save the ones he loves. You can feel his terror and his despair as he tries race against the clock to stop a creature that has the ability to reach from beyond the grave. Thomas' novel is well written and well paced. Each chapter ends on a note that keeps you wanting to read on to find out how things turn out. The Dust of Wonderland is an excellent novel and is one that should be on everybody's MUST READ list.

No More Teachers, No More Books. . .

Think back to the time when you had just graduated high school. You had the whole summer to relax, but could you really relax? The excitement and anticipation of your college years loomed at the end of the summer. To be on your own, away from the supervisory eyes of your parents, free to do what you wanted when you wanted to do it, and as long as you kept your grades up and you didn't get busted by the cops, campus security, or the faculty, the next four years were to be the best of your life.

Now imagine arriving at campus on that first day. And all of your worst fears, your darkest nightmares are about to become a reality. That's what you will find in Campus Chills, a collection of thirteen college-themed tales of the supernatural by some of the best writers in the industry.

In Harbinger, Kelley Armstrong enthralls us with the tale of Jenna, a student haunted by the ghost of a naked dead girl. Is the girl a threat or is she trying to warn Jenna of impending danger?

Julie E. Czerneda's The Forever Brotherhood introduces us to Dougie, who feels threatened by the presence of thirteen glassy-eyed Goth students seated at the back of the lecture hall, thirteen students whom nobody ever sees enter or leave the room, but who are always there.

The ghost of a professor obsessed with an authentic leather-bound Shakespearean collection haunts the library in Kimberly Foottit and Mark Leslie's Prospero's Ghost.

In Truth-Poison, James Alan Gardner tells of the discovery a fruit that contains a compound that proves deadly to some, but has the ability to reveal the cosmic truth to others.

Sèphera Girón tells us of one student's attempt to put an end to a string of brutal attacks that have plagued the university and its surrounding area in Can You See the Real Me?

How far would you go to impress a girl? In Michael Kelly's Different Skins, Gary volunteers to spend the night down by Taddle Creek, the haunting grounds of The Lady of the Sticks, just to prove to Carmen he's got a bigger set than his friend Will.

What can a museum's exhibit of a triceratops and the accidental death of a young girl have in common for Ashley? Find out in Nancy Kilpatrick's Sara.

Can the dead reach out to punish the living for their crimes? Or are Shara's symptoms psychological manifestations brought about by the guilt of having murdered her "best" friend. Susie Moloney answers that question for us in Sown.

If you had the chance to go back in time to save the one person you loved most in life, would you do it? What if by opening that window and saving that person, you risked bringing about the end of the world as you know it? Would that change your mind? In Douglas Smith's Radio Nowhere, Liam has that opportunity.

Quite a bit of what goes on at The National Institute of Nanotechnology happens behind locked doors. But something has escaped in Brit Trogen's Red Cage, and it has already killed one person. Kevin made a mistake in his past and it has haunted him. He now has the chance to redeem himself if he can stop the thing from killing again. Or will he be its next victim?

To what extreme would you go to pass a class? In Edo van Belkom's The Sypher, Richard LaPorte, a straight-A student, suddenly finds himself in danger of failing a class and ruining his GPA. Half-joking, a friend who is also in danger of failing the class, points the finger at a fellow student who comes across as being not all that smart but who happens to be acing the class, accusing them of "siphoning" the knowledge from the select few who happen to be failing the class. Even though he is joking, Richard takes it to heart and plans to do something about it.

On a more traditional note, Steve Vernon's Old Spice Love Knot shows the extremes a girl in trouble will go to in order to protect her family from shame, and how love can reach across the distance to protect a loved one from what could be a tragic mistake.

In In Pursuit of Dreams, Carol Weekes shows us that when young man has a strong desire to learn, he can overcome all obstacles, even death, and what it means for the professor responsible for delivering that education.

When I read anthologies, I usually have low expectations, as I tend to find the stories hit or miss. The collected tales are, for the most part, uneven, either leaving me cold or keeping me on the edge of my seat. Rarely have a come across a collection of short stories that have a solid core and remain solid throughout. Campus Chills is one of those rare exceptions, and I applaud Mark Leslie for the choices he made when compiling this anthology. I admit that not all of the stories appealed to me, but they were well written and kept my interest. Not once was I tempted to skip ahead over the balance of a story because it bordered too much on science fiction, which usually tends to bore me, or didn't contain enough of a horror element to suit me. The stories were crafted in a way to keep me reading, and for me, that is a successful story.

Campus Chills is perfect for those nights when you are home alone and the rain is coming down and the night is highlighted by thunder and the occasional flash of lightning. I highly recommend it!

ZOMBIE FIGHT NIGHT

This piece originally started out as a short story that I was planning on submitting for possible publication in an anthology; however, I wasn't happy with the short cuts I had to take to keep to the maximum word count allowed. As a result, what started out as a short story is now being developed into a novella.

Zombie Fight Night
by
Michael J. Evans

The gunshots echoed through the concrete canyons of New York City ’s Greenwich Village . To David Valcin, who drifted in that blissful state between sleeping and wakefulness, it was the sound of distant thunder. He rolled over, waiting for the drumming of the rain to begin, but that first volley of shots was only followed by another round. He reached out lazily to pull Mark closer to him, seeking comfort in the warmth of his lover’s body, but his arm fell on empty space. He opened his eyes to the darkness of their bedroom to find himself alone in bed. The space next to him was still warm, so Mark had only recently gotten up. Rolling over to face the window, he found his lover seated on the window seat, one leg curled beneath him, the other pulled up to his chest. His chin was resting on his knee as he stared out onto the street below. His nude form was a mask of shadows highlighted by the bluish rays of the full moon filtering through the grime-streaked glass.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Babe,” Dave asked.

Mark turned his head. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah.” David shifted, laying on his side, and propped himself up on his elbow. “Anything exciting out there?”

“Not really. Quiet, actually.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Mark went back to studying the street below.

“Talk to me, Babe.”

After a long silence, Mark said, “It’s not fair.”

“Babe. . .”

“It’s not,” Mark whined. “This was supposed to be our ‘Happily ever after’. Our fairy tale ending. Not something out of a fuckin’ Stephen King novel.”

“Shit happens.”

Mark’s head whipped around. “How can you be so. . .”

“Rational? Matter of fact?”

“It’s a fuckin’ nightmare!”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? There are zombies out there! Real-life fuckin’ zombies!”

Sensing that Mark was on the verge of another emotional meltdown, Dave threw back the blankets and got out of bed. He was naked and the slight chill in the room caused him to shiver. He crossed to the window and wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling the younger man securely against his chest. “It’s not that bad because I’ve got you with me.” He placed a kiss on top of Mark’s head before turning his attention to the street below.

The bar across the street was dark, the windows broken and boarded up. The newsstand next door to it was in a similar state, the glass panel on the door shattered, the display window gone. Glossy pages of skin mags littered the street, offering up an eye full to those who passed by – if they cared to look, but at this hour of the night, those who wandered the streets only had one thing on their minds. Food. Warm, living flesh and hot, racing blood. It was getting harder to come by. People had learned quickly that while the walking dead never slept, they were more active at night. It was during the daylight hours that the living ventured out and foraged for food and supplies. All that was getting scarce, too, which is why Dave thought it best if they put the city behind them The reports on the news, of which there hadn’t been any in a couple of weeks, warned that the dead seemed to be drawn to the cities. Reports coming in from all over the world confirmed that the large metropolitan areas were no longer safe. But was anywhere really safe anymore? Who knew how long it would be before the dead outnumbered the living? It could realistically happen.

It had only been six weeks — God, is that all it’s been? — since the first report had come over the news that a woman in Saint Mary’s Hospital who had been declared clinically dead had returned to life. She had been deemed a medical miracle until test results indicated that she was still clinically dead. No pulse. No heart beat. No respiration. No nothing. She should have been lying on a cold slab in the morgue, but instead she was up and walking around. Well, shambling around would have been a better descriptor. You could see from the film footage that it was an effort for her to put one foot in front of the other, like a marionette with an inept puppeteer pulling the strings. The news commentator did state that the woman, whose name was being withheld, did seem to have a healthy appetite. At the time they had failed to mention what the woman had had a craving for. It hadn’t come out until the next day that she had killed the morgue attendant, had partially eaten his body, and he too had come back from the dead. He had been found been found on the third floor of the hospital, in the maternity ward. Enough said there, but there was no way of knowing how many people he had infected, as he had been free to roam the building the entire night before being found in the morning. The hospital had been placed under quarantine, but not before whatever it was that was causing the dead to rise up had escaped from the facility. The way the plague was spreading morbidly reminded Dave of that old Faberge shampoo commercial, the one that said, “I told two friends, and we told two friends, and so on and so on. . .” By the end of that first week, reports of the walking dead were pouring in from all across the United States , and by the middle of the second week, the situation had gone global.

A tension beneath his hands brought Dave out of the past and back into the present. Only one thing could spark this sudden reaction in his lover.

On the street below, stumbling from the shadows into the harsh glare of the streetlight was a woman. Or what was once a woman. You couldn’t think of them as people anymore, not when your very survival depended on your ability to put a bullet through their heads. Or an axe. Whatever it took to damage the brain. It was a short trip to insanity if you couldn’t put that kind of distance between yourself and them. It was a concept Mark still had difficulty wrapping his mind around. Whenever he saw one, he froze, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, unable to believe that the thing before him meant to do him harm. Even four flights up, in the safety of their apartment, he still suffered a strong reaction to the walking dead. If Dave hadn’t been around, Mark would have joined their ranks weeks ago. No matter how often he tried to drill it into his lover’s head, Mark still lived in the world of Denial.

Tightening his left arm around Mark’s shoulders, Dave’s right hand soothingly caressed the other man’s bare chest. Together they watched the zombie shamble its way down the street. Its gait was uneven, having lost one of its high-heeled shoes somewhere along the way. Dave fought to suppress a chuckle as an old nursery rhyme from his childhood played through his head: Deedle deedle dumpling, my son John, went to bed with his stockings on. One shoe off and one shoe on. . . His laughter would only serve to aggravate Mark’s delicate condition, but trying to find humor in this Romero Film Fest come to life was the only way he was able to retain his tentative hold on sanity. That, and the man in his arms. Mark had no clue how much he relied on the him to be his anchor. Without Mark, would there really be any point in going on?

As it continued on its way, the couple could see that the back of the thing’s blood-stained blouse had been shredded, exposing skin that had been repeatedly clawed at by undead fingers eager for warm meat. The smooth flesh of its arms and legs was marred by ragged wounds where the skin had been bitten and ripped away.

Dave placed a gentle kiss on the top of his lover’s head and tried to gently pull him away from the window. “Come back to bed,” he whispered. “I want to make an early start.”

Mark tilted his head and looked up at him. “We’re still going?”

Dave nodded.

“But why? We’re safe here. Why can’t we stay here?”

“Babe, we’ve been over this before,” Dave explained for what seemed like the hundredth time as he led Mark back to their bed and gently pushed him down on the mattress. At times like this, Dave felt as if he was dealing with a child rather than a grown man. Mark allowed himself to be tucked in, but his eyes never left Dave as the man rounded the bed and crawled in next to him. Pulling Mark close and holding him tight, Dave sighed. “It’s not going to be safe for long. You heard what they said on the news. Those things are being drawn to the cities for some reason. We need to leave before we’re trapped here.”

“But this is our home,” Mark mumbled sleepily.

“Home is where the heart is, Sweetie,” Dave whispered in his lover’s ear. “And my heart is with you. Always. Wherever we go, as long as we have each other, we’ll always be home.” Dave knew how corny and cliché that sounded, but it was what Mark needed to hear. He needed the reassurance that they would always be together, even though Dave knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep. As he had said earlier, shit happens, and while he would do his damnedest to keep them both alive, he couldn’t guarantee that he would always be successful. Dave waited until he knew the other man was asleep before allowing himself to close his eyes and let sleep claim him.



* * *



The street looked like the abandoned set of some post-apocalyptic war movie. Civilization had devolved so quickly once the dead started walking, and it had rapidly become every man for himself. The police had given up trying to stop the looting; they had bigger fish to fry as they tried to stem the growth of the booming undead population. It was a problem they found near to impossible to contain; the civilian casualties were adding to the undead ranks faster than the police and military could cut them down. As a result, not a store front had been spared. It didn’t seem to matter what the store sold, from flower shops to sex shops, the jewelry stores and the video stores, if there was something to be had for the taking, it had been taken.

Standing on the corner of Bleeker and Christopher Streets, Dave waited for Mark to come down. He felt a pang of guilt as a patrol car passed by a block away, heading south along Seventh Avenue . Probably headed for City Hall to defend the City’s illustrious mayor. So many of his fellow officers had already abandoned their posts in the name of self-preservation, packing up their families and getting the hell out of Dodge before the much-dreaded dam broke and the dead came pouring into the city. He refused to judge them because as much as he had cursed them out at the time, here he was about to do the same thing. He would just be one more body who didn’t show up for roll-call this morning.

A sound drew his attention and he turned to look up the street. Across from the apartment building, the door to the boarded-up bar opened and a man stepped out. He was a tall man dressed in black jeans and a blue denim shirt, and while not fat, the man’s fondness for the bottle was beginning to become evident in the slight paunch he carried. His wavy brown hair, which normally hung loose to his shoulders, was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing the profile of a handsome bearded face. In his right hand was a 12-guage he had looted from one of the sporting goods stores.

Dave started up the street towards the bar. “Hey, Dean,” he called out so as not to startle his friend.

Dean Miller didn’t respond at first, only watched Dave approach. As Dave pulled up even with the man, Dean eyed the backpack strapped to Dave’s shoulders. “Finally abandoning the sinking ship, huh?”

Offering up an embarrassed grin, Dave said, “Yeah. The gun shots last night clinched it.”

“Didn’t hear it.”

You wouldn’t, Dave thought bitterly. Probably drank yourself into oblivion. “It’s getting worse. Mark. . .”

The bigger man cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Don’t need to explain yourself. You’ve been talking about it the past few days.”

“You sure we can’t convince you to come along?”

Dean shook his head. “They’ll get them under control.”

“That’s not what they were saying on the News.”

“And when have they ever been right? Christ, they can’t even get the weather right.”

Dave bit his tongue. The bartender could be as stubborn as all hell, and was there really any point in arguing? Comparing a weather forecast to a zombie apocalypse? The man was almost as bad as Mark when it came to living in denial. Dave wished he could be so lucky, but he had always been a realist, even as a kid. He knew his mother slept around. There was no sugar coating that fact. Just like there was no way to paint a rosy picture of the fact that his father liked to suck cock. His old man drank heavily, and then blamed the alcohol, but Dave knew the booze lowered his father’s inhibitions and allowed him to give in to his baser desires. It was also the only way of alleviating the guilt of betrayal he had felt every time he had one of his trysts. When the man was sober, the venom that spewed from his mouth towards the fags made Dave fear for his safety when he was younger.

© 2010 Michael J. Evans