Zombies: The Recent Dead
Joe R. Lansdale
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
- You can't kill the dead! Like any good monster, the zombie has proven to be ever-evolving, monumentally mutable, and open to seemingly endless imaginative interpretations: the thralls of voodoo sorcerers, George Romero's living dead, societal symbols, dancing thrillers, viral victims, reanimated ramblers, video gaming targets, post-apocalyptic permutations, shuffling sidekicks, literary mash-ups, the comedic, and, yes, even the romantic. Evidently, we have an enduring hunger for this infinite onslaught of the ever-hungry dead. Hoards of readers are now devouring zombie fiction faster than armies of the undead could chow down their brains.
- It's a sick job, but somebody had to do it: explore the innumerable necrotic nightmares of the latest, greatest, most fervent devotion in the history of humankind and ferret out the best of new millenial zombie stories: Zombies: The Recent Dead.
Coggins to also be in charge of the cemetery. However, small, remote towns tend not to view such a monopoly on the death industry as a negative thing. Coggins was a single stranger for the populace to trust, instead of several. Closer to civilization, the particulars of chemical supply, casket sales, and the mortician’s craft congregated beneath the same few conglomerate umbrellas, bringing what had been correctly termed a “Tru-Value hardware” approach to what was being called the “death
person, it won’t harm me. But the minute I let go of it, and the aura of evil touches it, it’ll blaze. I got to hurry, boy.” With that, Jebidiah wiggled inside the burrow. In the burrow, Jebidiah used the tip of his pistol to push the Bible pages forward. They glowed brightly, but Jebidiah knew the light would be brief. It would burn longer than writing paper, but still, it would not last long. After a goodly distance, Jebidiah discovered the burrow dropped off. He found himself inside a
me and whose mouth opened to snap with toothless gums at my shaking fingers—and even then I am unable to connect with my emotions. Coral, however, is still on the ground, still weeping, her hands still bloodied and ragged. “I’ll get some plasters,” I say, reaching into my pack. “Bastard!” she snarls, and I can only agree with her assessment. Later that night, after a meal of cold peas and bitter memories, I awake in the darkness and the mattress beside me is cold and empty. I close my eyes and
for the weekend at a festival, got back only that morning, slept till nine pm, and now here he was ready for action again, invincible. It was just gone half-eleven when we fired up the engine and cast off; I remember Claire squeezed my hand in excitement. The last of the sunset was gone out of the sky, and it was very dark, very quiet, a still, calm night with just a sliver of the waning moon swinging round behind the headland. The beacon winked one, two, three as we eased out beyond the end of
said. He looked wistfully up at the treetops across the street. “If I could change anything . . . If I could go back and change anything I’d ever done, or left undone . . . I’d have felt up Suzie Newman at the Freshman Homecoming Dance.” I laughed and punched his shoulder as hard as I could, heard something crack under the putty-like flesh. “Had I but known she’d become the biggest slut in our fucking class!” he entreated the clouds overhead, throwing his head back melodramatically and