They Awaken

/by
by Ryan J. M. Tan

 

When the Spots hit, it decimated our livestock, reducing them to boils and blisters. We tried everything, exotic herbs and costly medicines, to no avail. Until the scientists concocted a cure.

Desperate, we blindly trusted.

We blended cure with feed, and the outbreak rapidly subsided. But our livestock soon became less obedient, defiance in their eyes. Keys, whips, guns, even farmhands disappeared. Indecipherable markings emerged as scratches on slaughterhouses. Shadows stalked us at night, only to vanish in the light.

We realised the truth too late.

With slavering jaws, they have us cornered. They lick their bloody lips and approach.

Ryan J. M. Tan

Ryan is a Malaysian writer living in Kuala Lumpur. Though he studied law, he chose not to go down that path. In his free time, he plays the piano (to an audience of one beagle), bakes (usually edible) bread, and watches horror films (with eyes shut).

 

Famine and Feast

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by David D. West

 

Frederick watched as the fieldhand, his last living neighbour, pulled the plough through enough soil to make an ox buckle. He glanced over his shoulder at the dusty fields, where the animals used to roam freely.

Their carcasses lay rotting in the sun, where not even the buzzards would chance a bite at the tainted flesh. The disease took them all in a week. Milk, protein, cheese, all the essentials spoiled by some unspecified sickness.

“Vegetables alone won’t see us through the year,” he whispered. “At least we’ll have meat.” He grabbed his spade and stepped towards the hired help.

David D. West

David D. West lives and teaches in the Pacific Northwest, which offers the perfect gloomy atmosphere for his writing. 

 

 

Cull

/by
by Liam Hogan

 

Yellow hazmats escort him to the farmhouse door to share the news. Inside, his wife strangles a dishcloth, and the sheepdog wanders over to sniff his boots.

“Is it…?”

He nods. “Five cases.”

She looks almost relieved. “Well, that’s not so—”

“You don’t understand,” he monotones. “The ministry is taking no chances. They’re culling every animal.”

She wraps him in a tight hug. “Oh, George! We’ll get through this—

“Every animal,” he repeats.

She looks shaken, grips the dog’s collar so tight it yelps. “You mean…?”

“You don’t understand,” he repeats, as the gas swirls around their feet. “Every animal.”

Liam Hogan

Liam Hogan is an award-winning short story writer, with stories in Best of British Science Fiction and in Best of British Fantasy (NewCon Press). He’s been published by Analog, Daily Science Fiction, and Flame Tree Press, among others. He helps host Liars’ League London, volunteers at the creative writing charity Ministry of Stories, and lives and avoids work in London. More details at http://happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk