Archive for Fiction

22 results.

Zombies and Loathing: Part 11 – Negative Creep

by on February 20, 2013 at 4:20 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistFuck this. Fuck this! Fuck all of this! fuck this clandestine, mums the word, “stay quiet to stay safe” bullshit. 7 months of silence and what do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing. I promised change and delivered nothing. Conroy is stronger than ever, New Bunker is even more rotten if that’s even possible. At best I have only burst open the festering pustules of the city and showered their formally somewhat contained disease into the streets. I have been so ineffectual that Conroy likely thinks I have either died or abandoned my mission.

Well guess what Vincent? I’m fucking still here. No matter what has happened or how good you probably feel right now, I’m still right fucking here. Right fucking here with a bullet of Truth ready to be shot right into your brains to make sure that absolutely no part of you can come back as a god-forsaken zombie, since I wouldn’t even trust you to be a mindless, shambling undead piece of shit. The world will be better off with what you’ve done exposed and laid bare, I can only hope that you’ll meet justice at the hands of one of your ass-licking brown nosed lackeys when even they see who you really are.

So reader, I will not hide from my mistakes. You deserve the Truth. Even if that means sharing my disappointing failures and catastrophic missteps. I owe it to you. I owe you accountability. 7 months I promised you I would pick apart the house of cards that Conroy has built for himself. 7 months ago I set my sights on the first man I was going to take down: Sid Pruitt.
↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , , ,

Zombies and Loathing: A Brief Hiatus

by on July 24, 2012 at 1:57 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

 

Friends! Allies! Countrymen! Though, I suppose if you want to be accurate we are not in fact countrymen. There has been no concept of a “country” for decades now. At least, not one that you or I should even consider supporting. It is with a heavy heart that I must concede the slightest of victories for that asshole Vincent Conroy. My benefactor who must of course remain anonymous brought disturbing news to my attention in the nick of time.

It seems that Conroy got close to me. Too close to me. Of course I know that he and his cohorts must be reading each and every word that I write, looking for clues to my whereabouts and allies. Of course I know that there is some sort of bounty on my head and that ever man, woman and child that I encounter will potentially betray me and deliver me directly into Conroy’s bloodthirsty maw. I am not a fool. Though some would say that my desire to relentlessly pursue the Truth and expose the greed, gluttony and corruption of our leaders is a foolish endeavour.

You see, there was an attempt on my life last night. An attempt that may well have been successful had I not been warned in time. I won’t get into the details since if I do, Conroy would know which tactic his crony employed to try and unearth me. I won’t give him any leads on how to kill me. He won’t find me until I want to be found.

Suffice it to say, when your man doesn’t report in this morning Conroy it’s because he had a crowbar jammed up his ass into his inards. He won’t be doing much of anything anymore.

However, in an unusual display of caution on my part I must temporarily halt my regular updates. Conroy is too close. I can’t die now.

Stay tuned readers, I will return and when I do, the decaying halls of power will be crumbling around me.

Table of Contents

└ Tags: , , , , ,
Comments Off on Zombies and Loathing: A Brief Hiatus

Zombies and Loathing: Part 10 – The Next Step

by on July 10, 2012 at 2:59 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistGood morning and happy day. I say happy day not because the world is happy; it most certainly is not. The world has gone to hell, this isn’t news. What is news and the source of my own personal, albeit certainly fleeting, happiness is that I am very much alive. My faithful readers are surely happier than zombies at a genocide. As you have read, the past 24 hours have not been kind to old St-Brigid. However, things are looking up. The only thing remaining is to turn my energies towards cashing the cheque my mouth has recently written. It’s not that I’m not good for it. Don’t you worry, I will tear down the power structure in this mockery of modern society. The problem, as it has always been, is finding an appropriate time and method for my hydrogen bomb of truth.

My new associate has provided me with a safehouse and the promise of greased palms and suborned law enforcement to facilitate the next step. With the last of the drugs out of my system I am finally thinking clearly again. That reminds me, I need to see a man about some pre-Collapse military grade stims. Wasting 8 hours of every day sleeping seems criminally negligent given the situation I’ve found myself in. In order for the next step to work I will need to be as unyielding as the undead. After my run in at the bar I realize that the outside world has grown impossibly more hostile towards the champions of truth. I would be a fool to waste any amount of time in taking the plunge into political upheaval. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , , , ,
Comments Off on Zombies and Loathing: Part 10 – The Next Step

Zombies and Loathing: Part 9 – The Agreement

by on July 5, 2012 at 4:22 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefist“Do I need to repeat myself?”

The faceless man tilts his head slightly in the direction of the ten foot mass of muscle that had just busted my face open. A behemoth of a man; I can imagine that a concoction of muscle enhancers and supplements have all but replaced the blood coursing through his veins. They’ve probably also significantly decreased both his capacity for independent reason along with his ability to get an erection. I think I’ll call him Darlene.

Darlene cracks his knuckles in a theatrical display straight out of a pre-Collapse gangster movie. He licks his lips and grins. He wants me to think that he’s going to enjoy working me over. I know the type though, chances are the thing he would enjoy the most would be getting dolled up like a girl and sodomized (possibly by his boss) while his mother spanks him. He performs an equally elaborate demonstration of cracking his neck.

I feel my mental faculties returning to me. I can’t let this man know what I know about Conroy. Even if he’s an ally there are some secrets that are best kept from as many as possible for as long as possible. Passage into the city was one thing, a necessity. This situation? Not so much. I’m banking on the fact that this man has severely underestimated my resistance to narcotics of all kinds. The fact that I’m even seeing straight in this moment is probably an advantage he isn’t even aware that I’m enjoying. I need to buy myself more time, let the toxins diminish. I turn to Darlene.

↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , , , ,
Comments Off on Zombies and Loathing: Part 9 – The Agreement

Fear and Loathing After The Bomb – Part 8: Into the Black

by on June 26, 2012 at 10:07 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistThe faceless man’s smile fades and again his face is completely featureless. I try to take some sort of a hold of the hallucinogens coursing through my body to will some sort of a face onto the blank slate. It is useless. Either the man has no face or the drugs have taken such a hold that I am only a passenger. It makes no difference if he is friend or foe; I am about to moved forward in time at the mercy of outside forces.

I try to imagine he is a friend. The infinitesimal part of my consciousness that has a grasp on reality does me the great service of reminding me that I have no friends. Only enemies and temporary allies. Fuck you, brain. No wonder zombies want to eat brains so badly, their whole lives they’ve been governed by a single organ that routinely sends them down idiotic and fruitless paths until they die. What more could you want than to devour the agent of all of man’s follies? We would have done better staying monkeys. Fuck the brain.

The faceless man’s skeleton hand takes my own and he leads me away from the bar. It comforts me. To be holding someone’s hand on the march towards damnation. Where else would he be leading me? A darkened endless corridor stretches out before us as I risk another glance back to the perceived safety of the bar. Six men are being led to the back room, they are already completely nude. I see past the lies in their smiles. Deep into the pit of horror that is just behind their eyes. One of these men is about to die. All bravado is for show. There is no courage here. One will have his dick chewed off and die or turn. Five will promptly forget about their companion’s fate as some diseased whore sucks them off. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , , , ,

Fear and Loathing After the Bomb 7: Gloryhole

by on June 7, 2012 at 2:06 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistFed up and disgusted by the spectacle that takes place on a daily basis at the gates of New Bunker, I grease the wheels of the machine and pass through it like unwanted shit and fall into the cesspool of humanity that is this supposedly great city. I’m supposed to meet some shadowy figure in a  recondite little bar that I will omit the name of for the safety of everyone involved. How this meeting will occur is a puzzle that I can’t quite make sense of. I don’t know who this person is, and as I’ve said before, there’s about as many people who know what yours truly looks like as there are survivors of a zombie bite. The whole thing makes me nervous and has my stomach in knots. As almost an afterthought I realize that I’m actually in a bar. It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of imbibing  anything other than home-made moonshine. I catch the bartender’s eye with a lazy gesture and order whatever passes for scotch.

It is then when I take notice of the evenings’ entertainment.  ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , ,

Fear and Loathing After the Bomb 6: The Price of Admission

by on May 31, 2012 at 4:50 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistAfter slumming it in the caverns beneath New Bunker for a few days I finally have a few leads and am ready to make my way into hostile enemy territory.  I reflect a moment on my predicament, I have nowhere to go except directly into the city. The city run by a man who wants me dead. The city built piece by piece from scum skimmed from the pot of greed and gluttony that feeds desperate humans’ base desires. I’m looking forward to it really.

I spent some time watching the meat grinder that is the public entrance to New Bunker. With hundreds arriving per day and only dozens allowed admission, sections of the caves and tunnels have degenerated into a slipshod refugee camp, an entire sub-city. With the help of a few guards sympathetic to my cause I can come and go as I please from these areas. I keep my head down and observe the demoralized system that keeps this city alive. I can’t help but be amused that even though Conroy knows I’m here, he cannot seem to find me. Those few who know my identity know better than to sell me out. They’ve got a bigger reward coming their way if they play along. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , ,
Comments Off on Fear and Loathing After the Bomb 6: The Price of Admission

Fear and Loathing After the Bomb: Part 5 – The Filth of the Living

by on May 22, 2012 at 2:31 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistCitizens of New Bunker! I have not even yet breached the walls of your city with my insuppressible canon of truth and already I have been exposed to atrocities committed by the very hands of your leader Vincent Conroy! I suppose if you don’t live in New Bunker you can just skip this column all together. Of course I’m kidding you fool! The state of things in this city are surely indicative of the plight of us all. In some varying degree we are all oppressed by those who would deceive us with their greed and play upon our fears.

The logistics of your city has always baffled me. New Bunker is one of the largest settlements in the world. I have heard estimates that nearly a hundred thousand are found within its walls, though much fewer calls it home. Most settlements cap their population at under a thousand. New Bunker indulges one hundred times that number. Indulge it does.  People come and go. New Bunker thrives for one reason and one reason alone: it is one of the last places on Earth where you can descend into the base activities that have corrupted humanity since the day we realized that there were two great feelings in the world. Fucking like animals and getting something for nothing.

Prostitution and gambling. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , ,
Comments Off on Fear and Loathing After the Bomb: Part 5 – The Filth of the Living

Fear and Loathing After the Bomb: Part 4 – A Walk in the Park

by on May 16, 2012 at 1:48 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

zombiefistDay 5:
The following is a minimally edited transcript of the digital voice recording I dictated while passing through a dense horde of the walking dead as I drew close to New Bunker:

As I mentioned previously, the entire valley is packed with unyielding walking corpses, hungry for human flesh. I can’t be certain, but I would imagine that they are congregating towards the flaming remains of the small settlement I called home. Hold still you filthy fucking undead motherfucker, I will fucking kill you for a second ti-

*The next few seconds are incomprehensible, mostly due to the loud buzzing of the chainknife detaching head from neck*

-onroy has another thing coming to him if he thinks I’ll just lie down and let him walk all over me. I may not be the heir of a pre-Collapse oil empire but I have something he doesn’t have: an uncanny and unyielding eye for the truth. I will stop at nothing! Nothing I say! His lies and greed will be exposed and the life of comfort he lives from high atop the mountain of corpses and hollowed husks of humanity will be stripped away from him. A new era of peace and freedom for the good city of New Bunker! ↓ Read the rest of this entry…

└ Tags: , , , ,

Fear and Loathing After the Bomb: The Smell of Death

by on May 1, 2012 at 6:02 pm
Posted In: FaL - After the Bomb, Fiction, Keith

Day 3:
I made good time through the hills, a day of brisk travel and I was ready to begin my descent. Travelling through elevated ground is always cathartic. Even the slightest of inclines is often enough to dissuade one of the undead from going any further. A zombie stumbles or slips a few too many times and whatever locomotive automaton drive that propels the thing switches from “straight line” to “go around”. Unless there’s a sure chance of fresh meat, no zombie will exert themselves in their directionless wanderings. I dream of one day retiring to a self-sufficient mountain cabin, miles above the altitude any zombie would conceivably reach.

Bring a fresh corpse into the picture and you’ve got another story. Some years ago I saw the most amazing feat of disorganized chaos from a horde of undead. A group of survivors had holed up in a 3 story building. The first two floors had the windows bricked off, reinforced, exterior and interior stairs completely destroyed. Garden on the roof and ample supply of rations, the only way to come and go would be a rope ladder lowered from the roof. They could have survived this way forever, small group that they were. Completely off the radar. No militia to pay “protection” money to. Far and removed from gang warfare. Far enough away from any of the major settlements or perverse “cities” that they could avoid becoming tainted by the sick and twisted souls that inhabit those places. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…