Strange World


I’m pleased to announce that Strange World: A Biff Bam Pop Anthology was released on Tuesday for the Kobo Reader. It features my apocalyptic short story, Occupy Babylon, along with great works from Andy Burns, Ian Rogers (author of SuperNOIRtural Tales), Glenn Walker, Jim Morris (writer, Smallville, The Dead Zone, Crossing Jordan), and many, many more. It also includes an introduction by Bram Stoker Award Winner and New York Times Bestselling author Jonathan Maberry. You can order the anthology right here for a little over a buck.

In the meantime, here’s an excerpt from my short story, Occupy Babylon:

Eddie was halfway through the third song of his set when the door to the club burst open and one of the dead came shambling through. He barely noticed. He immersed himself in the song. At these open mic sets, he only got enough time for four. Several more bodies came shuffling into the club, and Eddie played on. He didn’t notice that there was something wrong, until he heard the scream.
Eddie raised his head and looked out at the crowd. One of the new arrivals bit into an audience member’s arm. Even from across the bar, Eddie could see the spurting crimson blood in all its vivid glory. The rest of the invaders fell upon the audience and the screams multiplied.

The scene went from the controlled chaos of a punk rock show to the frantic, desperate pandemonium of people fighting for their lives. Death had come for them. It had been out there, in the streets, on television; it had been in all of their backyards, in their own country, in the cities where they lived. But the others, like Eddie, had carried on like Death was not something they needed to worry about, like it was still distant.

But it had come. With grappling hands, blood-filled mouths, and hungry eyes, Death had arrived, and Hell had come with it. In the confinement of the small, hole-in-the-wall club, it was unavoidable. The people trampled over each other as they made for any exit they could reach. Most of their efforts were met with failure, taken down in a series of agony-filled moments by creatures that knew only hunger and that demanded to be satisfied.

Eddie thought the assailants were a mob of cannibals at first, until the first one came staggering upon the stage. It looked like a man, but its skin was an unhealthy gray. At its throat was a ragged, bloody wound. Eddie had no doubt that the wound should have been fatal, yet this man, this beast, walked towards him. One eye socket was an empty, lifeless void. Where the other eye had once been, pus oozed out and onto the man’s cheek. The man’s jaws opened and closed, biting involuntarily.

Eddie screamed and lifted his guitar over his head. When the creature got close enough, he smashed the instrument into the beast’s skull. Blood, bone, and gray matter mixed with the splintered wood. Screams of fear and agony filled the room. A foul stench of blood hung in the air. Eddie backed away from the horrid scene before him in the direction of the backstage exit.
When he bumped the door, he turned to exit and ran like hell.

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