The ebook version of Confederacy of Steam Vs Zombies from Marion Margaret Press is available from Smashwords. It will soon be available from Amazon and Barnes & Nobles as well. It was fun to write a SteamPunk story.

Here's a quick synopsis: Two years after the Spanish-American war ended in a zombie infestation that destroyed both armies, agents John and Jane Smith have been dispatched to the island to investigate some alarming reports. Traveling undercover, they take a cruise to the island and participate in a sight seeing tour to witness the zombies in their natural habitat, only to stumble upon a terrible revelation. Will they escape to warn the world? Or will the secret die with them on the slopes of San Juan Hill?

On a bit of a roll here. My short story A Splendid Little Outing will appear in the Steampunk anthology Confederacy of Steam Vs Zombies from Marion Margaret Press. It's my first Steampunk story, and was a lot of fun to write.

Here's a quick synopsis: Two years after the Spanish-American war ended in a zombie infestation that destroyed both armies, agents John and Jane Smith have been dispatched to the island to investigate some alarming reports. Traveling undercover, they take a cruise to the island and participate in a sight seeing tour to witness the zombies in their natural habitat, only to stumble upon a terrible revelation. Will they escape to warn the world? Or will the secret die with them on the slopes of San Juan Hill?

Here's the cover:

Happy 4th of July!

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"...good enough to eat, heh, heh. Now. for more on coverage of the festivities, we'll take you over to Anni Zoob who is covering the annual Running of the Humans in New York. Anni?"

"Thanks Ted. Every city and town in New America likes to celebrate Zombie Independence with a traditional human run, but none can compare with the Big Apple's Running of the Humans. Behind me you can see the cages being lowered into position. Two hundred humans will be released on Madison Avenue at noon, and given 30 minutes to disperse. Then the Freedom Bell will be rung and the crowd will be free to hunt and gorge. Thousands have come down to watch the release. There isn't a dry chin down here."

"Speaking of which, I see a bit of drool on your lapel as well."

"Ha, thanks Ted. What can I say, the atmosphere, the stench, my stomach's rumbling. I've got my helmet and I plan to be out with the crowd once the Dinner Bell rings."

"You mean the Freedom Bell?"

"Right, the Freedom Bell. This is Anni Zoob signing off."

"Thanks Anni. Of course, in our modern society, no tradition, no matter how revered, is without its controversy. And that includes the beloved Running of the Humans. With us now is Professor Mort Vivisac who is leading a group determined to ban the practice. Tell us why Professor, are you concerned with the treatment of the humans?"

"...."

"Hmm, a little technical glitch with the Professor's microphone. Professor can you hear us?"

"Yes I can hear you Ted, can you hear me now?."

"Yes we can, thank you Professor. So, tell our audience why you think the Running of the Humans should be banned."

"Well Ted, first there is just the inherit risk to all zombies of having humans running about loose. What if they escaped?"

"I must point out at this point Professor that in the decade that the Running of the Humans has been held no released human was ever at large for longer than twenty four hours. The only zombie fatality over those years was Bjorn Bronk, who tumbled off a ledge when he was pursuing a human."

"Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean that it can't happen Ted. But setting aside that risk there is a greater issue here. For years the humans portrayed zombies as mindless eating machines in their media. Given the enlightened conversations we are having now we are obviously not. The Running of the Humans reinforces the worst stereotypes of zombie-kind."

"So you believe we should eat our food with knives and forks and dab the corner of our mouths with napkins and pinkies raised? You would have us be pretend humans Professor?"

"Please Ted, you are grossly distorting what I am saying. There is a vast difference between a public feeding frenzy and how one behaves in one's own home."

"We'll have to leave the debate there for now Professor. Coming up, more Channel 5 coverage of the Independence Day celebration. Also, an important health tip from Doctor Orp about keeping stump rot in check. You won't want to miss it. But first, a word from our sponsors."

"Argh, Bernie, this tastes like a human that's been left to rot in the sun for three days."

"That's the way I like it Joe. Dead and red."

"Not me, I like 'em Livin' and wigglin'."

"Dead and red!"

"Livin' and wigglin'"

"Fellas, fellas, there's no need to argue."

"Wolfgang Puck, what are you doing here?"

"Since having been zombified, I've dedicated my unlife to developing a culinary experience that will satisfy the zombie palate. I'm proud to introduce my new line of home dinners, Drop Dead Mea..."

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THE END                                                                                                                                 copyright 2013 John Lance

Been watching the Walking Dead Season 2 on Netflix.

"So, in short, bite me," Jerry demanded, holding out his hairy forearm.

Engelbert grimaced, and pushed Jerry's arm away. "Look, Jerry, I'd love to help you out, but that's just not how it works." He got up from the sofa and crossed to the bar in the small, bachelor pad living room. He splashed some scotch in his tumbler and looked questioningly at Jerry, who waved his hand dismissively.

"Come'on Eng, this is me, we go way back. Look at me, I need this."

Engelbert and Jerry had gone to High School together and been three season athletes together: football, basketball, and baseball. But any hint of Jerry's All State linebacker physique had long ago disappeared under a frame of middle aged fat. Jerry's hair had receded in a straight line, making his forehead look like a landing strip and the sad, scraggly beard he grew to compensate only added to the overall sense of collapse. His T-shirt declared 'Top Dog!' but a coffee stain across the 'Top' deflated the enthusiasm.

Engelbert, on the other hand, could have stepped out of their graduation year book. His broad shoulders rippled under his shirt and every strand of his thick, blonde hair was perfectly placed. Engelbert smiled, revealing teeth that belonged in a Colgate commercial. "I see what you mean. But it's not that easy."

"You just got bit yourself two days ago, remember, back when you were bald too?" Jerry replied testily.

"Of course I remember. In addition to improved health, looks, and energy, the virus increased my intelligence. In terms you can understand, it's like I'm Hawking on steroids."

"Great, so you should be biting as many people as possible, right? Bringing humanity up to your level."

"Well, there's the rub. It's a gift that needs to be reserved for a noble, worthy few. In fact, some of us are working on a cure so we can remove the virus from those that are unfit for the honor."

Jerry may not have been Hawking on steroids, but he could sense the direction the conversation was headed. "Yea, yea, whatever man, why not me?"

"You're special in your own way. You and Carol have four kids and another on the way. In a few months we expect to have breakthroughs in clean energy and housing that will allow you to live the rest of your life in comfort. Go home and enjoy the life you ha"

"I don't want my life, damn you, I want yours!" Jerry balled up his fists and rose to his feet.

Engelbert raised his hands. "Okay, I tried to be your friend. I tried to give you a chance. You want to know the real reason?"

"Damn straight I do!"

"A little known fact is that only one out of every thousand bitten actually survive with the virus. Do you know what we call the rest?"

"What?"

"Lunch." Engelbert pounced.

THE END
                                                                                                                                                     Copyright 2012 John Lance

I can't help it, I find zombies amusing.

Kristoff shambled up to the counter, his left foot twisted and dragging behind him. He leaned forward, but not too far, lest he tip over. Years of zombiedom had played havoc with his sense of balance. Slow, careful movements were the key to staying upright.

There was a bell on the counter with a sign, "Ring for Service."

Kristoff grabbed his right hand with his left and raised it over the bell. He had been right handed when alive, and despite a pitbull mishap that left it dangling from his wrist by a single tendon, he still liked to try to use it as much as possible for old times' sake.

He dropped his hand on the bell. Ring.

Kristoff rang twice more before another zombie emerged from the back room. The name tag pinned to the faded red vest said Bob. His face was soft and drawn, like a wax dummy that had melted, and he was missing an ear.

"Ooooo Ooo Argh?" Bob asked. Being a zombie, Kristoff could understand Bob and heard, "How can I help you?"

"oooo Argh ooo?" Kristoff asked. "Is this the Lost and Found."

"Yes," Bob said, being careful not to nod. Kristoff recognized a fellow "goose neck" sufferer.

"Has anyone turned in an eye?" Kristoff gestured at the hole in his face.

"What color?" Bob asked.

"Blue," replied Kristoff.

"Let's see," Bob reached under the counter and brought up a shoebox. "Hmmmm, got two noses, a few fingers, part of a chin. Oh look, an index finger!"

That was when Kristoff noticed Bob's eyes. "Hey. you have a brown eye and a blue eye. You stole my eye!"

"I did not! They've been this color since I was born. My mother had eyes like these as well."

Kristoff's eye narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Scout's honor."

"If you find it, please let me know."

"I'll keep an eye out for it," Bob laughed, which was more raspy gasp than a chuckle.

Kristoff did not join him.

Bob stopped. "Yes, I'll let you know."

"Thank you." Kristoff shuffled away.

Bob reached back into the box and took out the ear. Holding it up against his head, he looked at his reflection in the counter. "Perfect," he said and went to find a needle and thread.

                                                                                                                                               Copyright 2012 John Lance

In honor of Curiosity.

"Six is all I have left," Jake said as he slipped the shells into his shotgun. Overhead, thunder rolled among the black clouds.

"I'm down to three," Shelly said as she spun the cylinder of her revolver. She raised the pistol and pointed it at the roof door. Glancing up at the sky, she added, "I hope it doesn't rain, I worked on my hair all morning."

Jake looked at her. Shelly was a card carrying member of the big hair, short shorts crowd, something that Jake normally appreciated. Still, there was a time and place for everything.  "Really? That's a worry right now?"

Shelly shrugged. "If not now, when?"

Jake had to admit, she had a point.

The steel door jumped as something heavy slammed into it.

"I don't want to be eaten," Jake muttered. "I wonder if it would less painful to die in a fall." He peeked over the edge of the apartment building. Five stories down, zombies milled the streets. They limped along in stiff legged packs, rotting as they strolled. Jake gagged from the stench that floated up to his perch.

"More likely you'll survive the fall, in which case you'll still get eaten but with the added bonus of breaking your legs first. And let me tell you, broken legs hurt. I was an E.R. doctor."

Jake looked at her dubiously.

"You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. I can be pretty and smart," Shelly said. "Besides, even if you run out of ammo you still have your baseball bat."

"True," Jake nodded, trying to sound confident. As a minor league baseball player trying to break into the big leagues he had been a mediocre hitter at best. But the last five weeks he had been an ace smasher of zombie skulls, batting 1000.

The door jumped again and Jake could hear the moans coming from the other side.

"Do you think any of the other made it?" he asked.

"No, if they had they'd be up here with us," Shelly replied.

"I wonder how they got in. I thought we sealed everything shut."

"Verna and Jimmy were on guard duty on the back door. They've been making eyes at each other all week, probably snuck off for some alone time."

Jake shook his head, "Jeeze, it's like no one ever watched a horror movie. I bet we're the last two people on Earth." They had heard about the outbreaks around the world, before the last radio station went off the air.

"Could be, but I bet there are other survivors," Shelly replied.

The door jumped again and there was an angry squeal as the top hinge bent. Jake raised his shotgun.

"Remember, aim high," he reminded Shelly.

"What do you think I am, an amat-" Shelly's voice was swallowed up by a roar louder than thunder.

A silver sphere lowered out of the sky, a rocket on its base spewing flames. Three metallic legs extended as it slowed and came to a rest on the roof. The engine shut off.

"Look, there are more!" Jake pointed at three more spheres that landed in the street. "Maybe it's the marines?"

The roof door gave an ominous squeal, and the moans got louder. Jake could hear the gibbering cry of "Brains!" from the ravenous horde. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off the sphere.

A ramp extended from the front and three beings strode down it. They were seven feet tall and impossibly thin and wiry, like a basketball player that had been put through a taffy puller.  They stood on two scaly green legs, and had five tentacles extending from their torsos. Each tentacle held a silver rod. Their heads were just huge, pulsing brains, the size of the giant beach balls the crowds batted around the stands of the minor league stadium.

WE CLAIM THIS PLANET IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR OF MARS.

"Ow!" shouted Jake. It was like someone was yelling through his ear straight into his brain.

"They must be telepathic," Shelly said as she clutched her own forehead.

Just then the door gave way and the zombies piled onto the roof. "Brains!" they moaned as they stumbled toward Jake and Shelly.

Suddenly, the zombies stopped in their tracks. Each and every zombie slowly turned to look at the Martians.

SURRENDER AND YOU WILL BE PERMITTED TO SERVE AS OUR SLAVES. RESIST AND YOU DIE.

The zombies stared at the Martians' pulsing craniums as if hypnotized. Their jaws dropped open and, in some cases, fell off completely. The zombie in the lead wiped a bit of drool from her chin and took most of the skin with it.

Then, as one, the zombies screamed "BRAINS!!!!!"

Jake had never seen a pack of zombies move so fast. They charged the Martians like hound dogs after squirrels. The Martians must have thought the zombies were surrendering, because they didn't react until the lead zombie jumped up and took a bite out of one of the Martian's craniums.

Lasers flashed from the sticks in the Martians' tentacles. Zombies exploded into clouds of ash, but for every incinerated zombie, two more took its place.

RETREAT! WE MUST RETURN TO THE MOTHERSHIP FOR  REINFORCEMENTS. REST ASSURED HUMANS, THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. WE WILL NOT REST UNTIL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU IS WIPED AWAY!

The two surviving Martians retreated back up the ramp. A zombie lunged forward and bit the slower Martian on the ankle. The Martian obliterated him with its silver stick, then staggered into the spaceship and collapsed as the hatch closed.

The spaceship took off and Jake saw other spheres rise into the air as well. With a roar, they zipped into the stratosphere.

The zombies watched longingly as the Martians flew away. Then they slowly turned and looked at Jake.

"Aw crap," Jake said.

"Jake, catch!" Shelly tossed him one of the silver rods the dead Martian had dropped. "Press the button on top."

Jake pointed his stick at the advancing zombie horde and pressed the button. Zombies began disappearing. He and Shelly kept firing until not a single zombie was left on the roof.

"Wow, these are pretty useful," Jake said.

"I wonder how long the charge lasts?" Shelly said as she studied her stick.

BRAINS!

"Shelly, look out," Jake pushed Shelly out of the way as the dead Martian, now a pale, rose to its feet. Jake incinerated it with a flick of his stick.

Looking down at the street, Jake saw one of the spheres remained on the ground and several zombie martians lumbered alongside their human breatheren.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Shelly said.

"No, what?" Jake said.

"We have a chance. We'll go underground, find other survivors, and bide our time. We let the martians and the zombies duke it out..."

"And then mop up whoever's left," Jake said. "Wow, you are smart."

"I told you," Shelly winked.

THE END

                                                                                                                                                      Copyright 2012 John Lance

Zombies and limericks were made for each other.

There once was a zombie named Tess
Who loved the forbidden dance, burlesque
So sad she has no grace
And a rotting green face
It really makes her dancing grotesque

                                                                                                                                                              Copyright 2012 John Lance