Food for the Crows

By Lisa Vasquez and Aurelio Rico Lopez III

I can't tell you how the world got this way. I haven't got a clue. Evolution, God's wrath, a top-secret government project gone horribly wrong, alien invasion, a mutated strain of virion, too many Justin Bieber tunes on the airwaves... take your pick. My name is Paul, and I'm surviving in a world teeming with the undead. It's not much of an existence, but it's one I'm growing used to. And then there's Rey, the boy who thinks his sister, Camille, is still out there somewhere. I'm not so sure, but Rey has faith. He wants us to find her; I just want to play my guitar in peace. I don't think Rey's going to let me.

 

Not until we've found Camille. This is our story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stitched Smile Publications
• Release date: May 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201938314

Lisa Vasquez

"It really is OK to be a female and write horror. I'm not intimidated by any man who thinks this isn't the genre for a woman. A woman is expected to be this soft, emotional wreck in the face of tragedy or horror. I'm the woman that kicks it in the junk and goes for the jugular. I want to make the words bleed for me." Born and raised in Chicago, Lisa's love for horror began at a young age. Her father had a deep love for horror movies and science fiction and took a keen interest in special effects. So that Lisa and her siblings could enjoy the movies with him, he'd sit up late at night painstakingly "editing" the explicit adult scenes. Afterwards, they'd sit together and discuss the magic of how the effects were achieved. When other kids her age dressed in cartoon-kid-friendly costumes for Halloween, Lisa created homemade costumes that paid homage to classics like ​BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN. Thanks to her creative parents (her mother also having a talent for artistic expression such as homemade crafts, sewing, and interior decorating) Lisa was encouraged to read, write and to act in homemade skits to entertain themselves, family and close friends. Lisa currently resides in Houston, Texas. She is the Publisher's Liaison for the Horror Writer's Association, and is also the founder of the HWA's Houston chapter. She is the owner of Stitched Smile Publications, a small independent publishing company, and is the author of The Unsaintly Chronicles, The Unfleshed, and several other short stories.  You can find her on her website: www.unsaintly.com or on Facebook (facebook.com/unsaintlyhalo), Twitter (@unsaintly), Instagram (unsaintly), and more!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

AURELIO RICO LOPEZ III hails from Iloilo City, Philippines. A self-diagnosed scribble junkie and horror enthusiast, he has authored a variety of works of fiction and poetry, including Kaiju Double Barrel, A Predisposition for Madness, Not the Forgiving Kind, Night Mare, and When the Lights Go Out. He also makes a decent grilled cheese sandwich.

OTHER WORKS BY AURELIO

Not the Forgiving Kind by [Aurelio Rico Lopez, Pete Molnar, Stephanie Perisić, Donelle Pardee Whiting] Hangover of the Apocalypse by [Aurelio Rico Lopez III, Loretta Clem, Stephanie Perisic, Donelle Pardee Whiting]

Looking out my apartment window, I watched a mob of zombies corner a stray dog. A Labrador. Golden. The animal must have been someone’s pet, and for all I knew, the owner might have been among the crowd. The Lab whimpered, tail between its legs. I would have shot the miserable creature, but I’m no Wyatt Earp, and given the distance, I surely would have missed. I also did not want to give away my position and draw attention to myself.

I watched helplessly as the rabble bore down on the dog, tearing flesh and ripping limbs. Fur and blood everywhere. Disgusting as it was, I resisted the urge to look away. I owed this dog something; that was how I felt. If I could not end its misery, I would bear witness to its gruesome murder. Every living thing deserves that, at least.

That was a Monday.

Movies hardly ever get things right.

In real life, nice guys always finish last. The pimple-faced computer geek doesn’t get to sleep with the hot cheerleader. Hard work doesn’t always get you that promotion.

When the shit hit the fan, and almost everyone you knew had become a zombie, the first thing people learned was zombies weren’t the slow, lurching monsters depicted in the classic Romero films.

These zombies can move! The ones that started to rot, sure, they were slower, but I once saw an overweight zombie chase a kid on a bicycle. I didn’t stick around long enough to see if the kid made it out okay. I had my own ass to worry about.

To kill a zombie, you can bash its head in with a club or steel pipe. Burning a zombie is just as effective, but it poses many concerns. The undead stink, but a burning zombie smells worse, like rotten eggs and vomit. Plus, the burning process takes a while; the last thing you need is a flaming zombie coming after you. Crushing a zombie with your car gets the job done and has worked for me on two occasions. But I find the best way to take these things down quickly is by putting a bullet in their heads.

Movies hardly ever get things right. But once in a while, they do.

I drank the last of the orange juice and tossed the plastic container in the trash. One inconvenience remedied by the zombie apocalypse is the segregation of trash. When your neighbors are trying to eat you, recycling isn’t high on your priority list.

I would have given anything for a Café Americano with a shot of espresso, but considering the SNAFU the human race was in, that was out of the question. Grabbing a cup of Joe wasn’t just impractical, it was fucking insane! I managed with instant coffee, but even that supply was running low. It wasn’t just coffee, either. I was low on food, toothpaste, soap, shampoo (just because the world had gone to shit didn’t mean you had to smell like it), and cigarettes.

I waited ‘til dark. It was time to go shopping.

You’re probably thinking: Why stay in the city? Why not move to an island or someplace secluded?

Initially, that sounded like a good plan. A smaller population meant lesser zombies. That made sense.

But think about this for a moment – let’s say you could move to a cabin in the woods. Then what? What do you do for food? I don’t think I’d be able to survive on sweet yams and mushrooms. I’m no Davy Crocket either, so hunting