Soft Apocalypse
Will McIntosh
Language: English
Pages: 239
ISBN: 159780276X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
What happens when resources become scarce and society starts to crumble? As the competition for resources pulls America's previously stable society apart, the "New Normal" is a Soft Apocalypse. This is how our world ends; with a whimper instead of a bang. New social structures and tribal connections spring up across America, as the previous social structures begin to dissolve. Locus Award finalist and John W. Campbell Memorial Award finalist Soft Apocalypse follows the journey across the Southeast of a tribe of formerly middle class Americans as they struggle to find a place for themselves and their children in a new, dangerous world that still carries the ghostly echoes of their previous lives.
1812: The Rivers of War (Trail of Glory, Book 1)
The time. “Do you ever find yourself envying Sebastian?” Cortez asked. “Shit, no,” Ange said. “I crave a good buzz as much as anyone, but I want to come down after.” There was a slight breeze; it was almost bearable tonight. “But nothing would ever bother you again. Doesn’t that sound even a little tempting?” “It’s virus-induced,” I said. “Those little fuckers are doing things to his mind.” We reached the interstate, walked alongside, staying in the weeds well away from the road. “Yeah. I’d.
Desecration.” We crossed the street and wandered along the brick walkway, through the center of the camp. When we hit the end of the square Cortez doubled back, probably expecting someone to tell us to get lost, but they just went on doing what they were doing. Finally, Cortez approached the biggest and strongest guy. “Ho,” the guy said, smiling and nodding. “Where you coming from?” Cortez asked, hands on hips. I hovered behind him with Dice and Slinky. “Bamboo forests to the West,” the guy.
Guy flinched, but kept smiling. When he finished, the guy dropped his hands back to his sides and nodded vaguely. I think Cortez had figured on a circle of spectators, a little shock and awe, and I was guessing he felt a little stupid now, because no one had stopped to watch. “You mind taking it easy on those branches?” Cortez said to the guy, still breathing hard, wiping sweat from his eyes. The gypsy squinted, shook his head like he didn’t understand. “The tree branches, would you mind not.
Drunk in a bar,” I said. “Plus, I should get home.” A dog was dying in the gutter a block from Pinky’s, flies buzzing around its eyes, its lip pulled back in a death snarl. It was a puny thing, mostly ribs. The eye facing up fixed on us, then started to go unfocused. Its little chest stopped rising and falling. Now it would turn blue. “What next?” Cortez asked, sitting on the curb. I looked up at the apartment building rising beyond the dog, the rusted black bars on the windows, vinyl siding.
Love? Was Phoebe feeling the same for me, or was I just any port in a storm? Off in the distance a whimpering dog serenaded us; my psyche given voice. The hell with it. What did I have to lose? “I’m afraid Doctor Happy will change how I feel about you. If you love everyone, how do you parse your feelings for one person out of that giant vat of love?” Phoebe laughed hysterically. For an instant I thought she was laughing at my profession of love. “Giant vat of love?” “Yeah. Haven’t the Doctor.