The Living Dead

Billy Joe: No, no—I mean, thanks and all, but—it's cool.

Stage Manager: All right; if you're sure.

Billy Joe: So . . . that's it?

Stage Manager: What else would you like?

Billy Joe: I don't know. Isn't there supposed to be some kinda book, you know, like a record of all the shit I've done?

Stage Manager: That's Santa Claus. Sorry—no, there's nothing like that. All the record you have of what you've done is what you can say about it.

Billy Joe: Huh. So what's it like?

Stage Manager: What's what like?

Billy Joe: Wherever that hall leads.

Stage Manager: Quiet.

Billy Joe: Oh.

(Billy Joe crosses the stage slowly, passing behind the Stage Manager, until he stands as far stage right as he can without leaving the stage.)

Billy Joe: That's it.

Stage Manager: It is.

Billy Joe: Well, no point in delaying the inevitable, right?

Stage Manager: I suppose not.

Billy Joe: Can you tell me one thing—before I go, can you answer one question?

Stage Manager: I can try.

Billy Joe: We're fucked, aren't we?

(The Stage Manager pauses, as if weighing his words.)

Stage Manager: There's always a chance—I realize how that sounds, but there's just enough truth left in it to make it worth saying. Things could turn around. Someone could discover a cure. Whatever's driving the zombies could die out—hell, it isn't even winter yet. A couple weeks of freezing temperatures could thin their numbers significantly. Or someone could be resistant to their bite, to the infection. With six-plus billion people on the planet, you figure there has to be one person it doesn't affect . . .

Billy Joe: Do you believe any of that shit?

Stage Manager: No.

Billy Joe: Yeah.

(He exits, stage right.)

Stage Manager: Understand, it's not that I don't want to believe any of it. I want to believe all of it. All of that shit, as my young friend would say. But doing so has traveled past the point of hard to the point of no return. No, this—this, I fear is how the day runs down for the human race. It's how Homo sapiens sapiens departs the scene, carried off a bite at a time in the teeth of the undead. If there weren't so much pain, so much suffering in the process, you could almost see the humor in it. This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, and not with a whimper, but with the bleak gusto of a low-budget horror movie.

(The Stage Manager reaches for his flashlight, which he shuts off and takes with him as he rises from his seat and walks to the back of the stage. He is visible against the bulk of the willow, and then the shadows have him. The theater lights come up, revealing the aisles still full of the dead. Men, women, old, young, most wearing their causes of their several demises, they encompass the audience, and do not move.)

For Fiona, and with thanks to John Joseph Adams.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to the following:

Jeremy Lassen and Jason Williams at Night Shade Books, for giving me another shot at this anthology racket, and for taking a chance on me in the first place. Also, to Ross Lockhart at Night Shade, who probably never gets enough credit, and to Marty Halpern for making us all look better by catching all the pesky errors that crept into the manuscript.

David Palumbo, for quite possibly the best zombie cover art ever.

Gordon Van Gelder: I'll probably be thanking him in every anthology I edit from here until eternity. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: He gave me my start in this field and taught me everything I know. Thanks again, boss.

My agent Jenny Rappaport, who is helping me take over the world, one anthology at a time.

Kris Dikeman, for helping me sort through the vast hordes of zombie fiction and for providing me a highly valuable second opinion when needed. On the brainoriffic scale, she gets five-out-of-five brains.

My friends Jack Kincaid and Jeremy Tolbert, who both listened to me blather on about zombies and served as beta-readers for my writing contributions to the book. And, of course, for our continuing years of friendship. If I ever turn into a zombie, I'll eat you guys last.

My mom, for being my biggest cheerleader.

All of the other kindly folks who assisted me in some way during the editorial process: Mickey Choate, Douglas Cohen, Richard Curtis, Ellen Datlow, Paula Guran, Andy Hine, Betty Russo, Bill Schafer, Claire Sclater, Nancy Stauffer, Kari Torson, Jeff VanderMeer, Renee Zuckerbrot, everyone who dropped suggestions into my zombie fiction database, and any others I may have forgotten.

The readers and reviewers who loved my first anthology, Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse, making it possible for me to do another.

And last, but certainly not least: a big thanks to all of the authors who appear in this anthology.

THE END

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The Living Dead

Table of Contents

Introduction

by John Joseph Adams

Some Zombie Contingency Plans

by Kelly Link

Death And Suffrage