Showing results by author "Allen R. Brady" in All Categories

You can't go home again. Deirdre Perdaut was intrigued when she first heard this line, but lost interest when she learned it came from an old, dead white guy. Her English teacher was fond of old, dead white guys, but her History teacher confirmed they were nothing but trouble. As she huddled in the dank barn, listening to the approaching storm, Deirdre wished she had paid more attention in both classes. Surely, she reasoned, going home should be easy if you never technically left.

The Friendly Haven Assisted Living Center is supposed to be the last stop - a quiet, comfortable place to die. But death is not what the monsters outside are offering. The tarbabies will get in eventually. They always do. Keeping those shambling bags of slime from oozing through the countless cracks and seams infesting this place would require more vigilance than we can muster. There are no heroes at Friendly Haven. For what we have to do, fear may be our last, best hope.

That thing on the porch won't go away. I called the police, but I don't think they're coming. They've got their hands full with the Manhattan quarantine, so they can't waste their time on a nothing little town like Otterkill.

I called the police, but I don't think they're coming. They've got their hands full with the Manhattan quarantine, so they can't waste their time on a nothing little town like Otterkill. That means it's up to me and the neighbors, and there are fewer of us every day. Fewer of us, and more of them. Every person we lose is one more monster to deal with. The Spiller family, the folks from the Retirement Center, even the Mathises' Rottweiler are now stalking the streets, waiting for someone to get too close. A single touch is all it takes.