David Moody's Blog, page 29

#ALIVE

If you’re in need of a quick zombie movie fix this Sunday afternoon (and let’s face it, who isn’t?), can I recommend #ALIVE, a South Korean movie which is available now on Netflix. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but I liked it quite a lot.

As a grisly virus rampages a city, a lone man stays locked inside his apartment, digitally cut off from seeking help and desperate to find a way out.

Here’s a very long trailer (actually the first five minutes of the film):

Like I said, this is nothing you haven’t seen done a hundred times before, but #ALIVE is well made, fast-paced, and enjoyable. The two leads, Ah-In Yoo as Oh Joon-woo and Shin-Hye Park as Kim Yoo-bin, deliver decent performances and make the most of the material. The film reminded me a lot of THE NIGHT EATS THE WORLD in terms of the overall set-up and feel, though it has only a fraction of the depth and impact of NIGHT.

If you’re here for bloody zombie action, though, you’ll be satisfied with #ALIVE. The undead (or infected or whatever) are gory and freaky enough and appear in large enough numbers to add some real excitement and tension to the action scenes.

I was particularly pleased to see one of my favourite zombie tropes at play here (slight spoilers ahead): the traumatised survivor who can’t bring themselves to let go of their obviously deceased family member. I’ve always found that to be a particularly unsettling plot twist, and long-time readers will remember the character of poor old Philip Evans from the first AUTUMN novel. Philip was one of the few highlights of the 2009 AUTUMN movie, not least because the role was played by the incredible DAVID CARRADINE in his final screen performance. No matter what you thought about the rest of the film, Carradine’s five minutes are worth the price of admission alone. Behind the scenes pic below.

Back to #ALIVE, and I don’t have much more to say other than if you’re in the mood for a well put together, relatively straightforward zombie flick, it’s well worth your time. Right now we can all identify with the themes of isolation and living through a pandemic. #ALIVE steers well away from the doom and gloom of reality and delivers an exciting and surprisingly positive and uplifting tale.

#ALIVE is currently streaming on Netflix worldwide.

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Return of the Living Dead

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen that I’ve had a little trouble working recently. We lost our family cat, Tom, early on in lockdown, and our new kitten arrived this week. Lovely as he is, when everyone else went out and I was left cat-sitting, young Milo prevented me from doing anything constructive other than catching up with the latest issue of SCREAM MAGAZINE (which happens to contain a fantastic 5-star review of THE BLEED: RUPTURE – thanks Scream team).

One of the things I love most about SCREAM is the fact it spends as much time looking back as it does forward: as well as up-to-date news and reviews, the mag always also features articles on classic (and sometimes no so classic) horror movies. This issue has an excellent retrospective article on THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD. So, stuck with the new cat, and with little prospect of getting any writing done, I decided a re-watch of RETURN was in order. And as I realised I’d never properly written about it for this site, I decided to put that right too.

When foreman Frank (James Karen) shows new employee Freddy (Thom Mathews) a secret military experiment in a supply warehouse, the two klutzes accidentally release a gas that reanimates corpses into flesh-eating zombies. As the epidemic spreads throughout Louisville, and the creatures satisfy their hunger in gory and outlandish ways, Frank and Freddy fight to survive with the help of their boss (Clu Gulager) and a mysterious mortician (Don Calfa).

I’m sure you know this already, but here’s a little background on RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD. It’s written by John A. Russo, who co-wrote the original NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD with George Romero. When he and Romero parted ways, a legal agreement allowed Romero to continue making “…of the Dead” zombie films, while Russo’s films had to be titled “…of the Living Dead”. RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD was originally intended as a serious, straight-up sequel to NIGHT, and whilst it is still indelibly connected to the Romero classic, it’s completely different tonally. It’s hilarious.

Hard to believe that RETURN is 35 years old. Before re-watching it this week, I don’t think I’d seen it since the 1990’s. I was expecting it to have dated horrifically and, in many ways, it had, and yet I was surprised by how downright funny the film still is. Think zombie comedy, and many people will probably think of SHAUN OF THE DEAD (I’m not at all a ZOMBIELAND fan, sorry). SHAUN is also a classic, and I think it shares a reason for its success with RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD. At their heart, both films are well made zombie movies that tell familiar, well-trod stories. Both films also feature a cast of idiots. There’s a subtle (yes, subtle – bear with me) point to be made here; the joke’s on the living, not the dead. And this is why I’m not a ZOMBIELAND fan… finding ever more ‘hilarious’ ways to despatch a reanimated corpse is nowhere near as much fun as watching a group of morons trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. And the morons in RETURN really are first-class idiots.

The cast is pretty much perfect; an intriguing mix of unknowns and horror stalwarts. And it’s the interplay between them that makes the movie a joy to watch. In particular, Thom Matthews, James Karen and Clu Gulager are exceptional as the completely inept workers and boss of the medical supply warehouse. The scenes where Fred and Frank come clean about what they’ve done and what’s happened as a result are priceless. They’re ably supported by a bunch of punks and preppies and misfits who’d probably be happier killing each other than getting rid of zombies. Special mention has to be made of Linnea Quigley as Trash – a nihilistic punk who’s fascinated with a) death, b) sex, and c) taking off her clothes. Her appearance in this film deeply affected many young men of a certain age when the first was first released. Me included.

There was a lot of talent behind the camera too. The film was directed by Dan O’Bannon, who many people will remember as the writer of several genre classics (and no-so classics) including ALIEN, DEAD & BURIED, BLUE THUNDER, TOTAL RECALL and LIFEFORCE. Much has been made of O’Bannon’s inexperience behind the camera and the uncomfortable relationship he had with his cast, and you can’t help thinking this awkwardness might have contributed to the eventual feel of the film. There’s a definite clash between the punks and the establishment, with them both being undone by the living dead.

Production designer was Bill Stout, an artist with a background in comics and fantasy art. Though the living dead in the film are largely generic, particularly in crowd scenes, Stout takes credit for two classic zombies – the astonishing Tar Man, and the truncated (and badly decayed) dead woman, complete with a severed spinal cord that thrashes around wildly on the autopsy table.

If you haven’t seen RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD yet (surely you must have by now?) then can I recommend you put that right. It’s great entertainment, and even though it’s ridiculous and plays fast and furious with Romero’s original zombie rules, it still manages to work as a quasi-sequel to NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. It’s a lot of fun throughout, right the way to the surprisingly bleak and laugh-free final scene. A number of sequels followed, though I’d recommend you stop after number three.

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An AUTUMN update

Hi everyone. I wanted to give you a quick update on my progress with the new AUTUMN novels. They’re coming along nicely, but I’ve had a couple of major interruptions since I announced them earlier this year (namely the onset of a global pandemic swiftly followed by a heart attack), and it’s become clear that I’m not going to make the October release I’d originally scheduled for AUTUMN: DAWN. Apologies.

I’m hoping that AUTUMN: DAWN will now be released in April 2021, with the other books in the new trilogy – INFERNO and EXODUS – following in quick succession. It’s been an absolute blast returning to the world of AUTUMN after nearly a decade away, and though the new books will be very different on a number of levels, the same bleak tone and the overwhelming scale of the apocalypse feels just as it did when I started writing the first book back in 1997. If you’ve not read the original books, you can find a huge amount of information and stacks of free AUTUMN short stories at www.lastoftheliving.net.

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Bloody Good Reads

I had a bloody good time talking to bloody Mark Goddard about some bloody good books on the BLOODY GOOD READS podcast. My choices won’t surprise anyone who’s read any interviews with me previously – I AM LEGEND, DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS and DOMAIN. I also got to chat about my past, current and future work – from AUTUMN to HATER to STRANGERS to THE BLEED (taking a brief detour along the way to discuss the merits of the AUTUMN movie).

You can listen to the podcast here. Please support Mark and BLOODY GOOD READS by subscribing to the podcast or following them on Twitter.

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THE BLEED: RUPTURE – out today

Today’s the day that the first book in THE BLEED series finally hits the shelves. It’s been a long time since MARK TUFO and CHRIS PHILBROOK invited me to play in the apocalyptic wonderland they were cooking up, and I’m very pleased to have been asked along for the ride. It’s been a blast so far, and I’m really looking forward to seeing where our merry (not really) band of characters end up.

This is an apocalypse like no other, and now we get to share it! THE BLEED: RUPTURE is out today.

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The Bleed: Filthy Halfsies

Less than a week to go until THE BLEED: RUPTURE is released. Here’s a glimpse into the third and final story strand…

When the grandfathers to the grandfathers were young, the race of gods stepped through time and space, appearing in the North. Fleeing an ancient, world-eating evil they called the Bleed, they came to build anew, in peace. Other than strange hair and eye colors, they appeared similar to normal human beings—but they were taller, stronger, and smarter, and were ripe with powers from their home world. They brought unheard of learning and experience with them; they built their Endless City from one edge of the North to the other, with its mile-high walls and towers of stone, steel and wood soaring above that. They ruled the world from afar, without war, or even effort, ever watchful for the signs of the Bleed, their unending, ever-hungry foe.

They took husbands and wives and left thousands of half-breed children behind when the enemy they fled bled through the fabric of the worlds. Deep in their city, servants of the evil ate at their new home, one bloody soul at a time. They made their stand at the edge of the world, almost a score ago, and not one god has been seen since.

Without their vibrant presence, the gods’ city crumbles. The common folk wander through the world, aimless, as the world at the city’s feet awaits their victory, or defeat, at the edge, where the seas turn to ice and fall into night’s oblivion, where only gods dared tread.

###

“Why are there no more fish?” Arridon Gray muttered as he threw the nets down on Mercy Point’s last remaining rickety pier which jutted out over the sea’s edge. The sea’s agitated waves rolled in, foamy and cold, and smashed against the shrinking village’s stony shore wall.

Fishing under the summer sun off the docks with his father’s old nets had yielded Arridon no fish for the third day running. The young man wasn’t the only person with empty nets either; none of the other men standing on the shores of the Dawn Sea had catches that would fill a belly come dinnertime. After sitting on the pier’s end, boots dangling over the brackish waters below, lamenting the fortune he’d received over his twenty short years and the fortunes of all the other people struggling to feed themselves in the village of Mercy Point, he got to his feet. He packaged the old net back into his father’s large canvas bag and began the trudge inland to the home he shared with his father and younger sister. He walked carefully on the aged planks, using the golden eyes his mother had passed down to him to watch for rotted boards, perishing from disuse. The weight of the bag over his shoulder cut into his skin, but the calluses fought back.

He walked past the old fishery warehouses that no longer smelled of the day’s catch—and hadn’t for years—and then past the almost abandoned inns that used to cater to merchants coming and going on boats that no longer came or went on the Eastern Sea.

They were too close to the gods’ war at the world’s edge, or so the traders claimed.

Arridon believed in the war at the edge of the world, even though he couldn’t see it and didn’t know anyone who had. He believed in the gods fighting that war, including his mother, though she’d been gone for over a decade now. Worrying about his drunken father and protecting his little sister occupied all the anxiety he could work up in a day’s time. The gods’ war against the Bleed would come to them, or it wouldn’t. He had no say either way.

He passed through the village’s central courtyard, with its long-unused guillotine and trio of freshwater wells, and took the slight turn towards the street he and his family lived on. Several buildings ahead, he saw his sister leaning against the side of an abandoned home, surrounded by several of the local boys. Her eyes were narrowed into dagger slits of anger as she looked from one boy to the next.

“Shit,” he whispered, and picked up speed to get to her before one of the boys did something they’d regret.

They were arguing with her when he arrived.

“Why won’t ya?” one of them asked her, taunting. “You don’t think he’s good enough for ya, ya golden-eyed freak?”

“No, actually, he isn’t good enough for me,” Thistle shot back as she put her long brown hair up in a ponytail. “Not a soul in this godless village is worth so much as my freakish kiss, and at the bottom of that wretched, worthless pile is all of you and your friend Sebastian especially. Now kindly, you can all go walk off the edge.”

“Come on now,” the one Arridon knew to be Sebastian said. “No harm meant. Just one kiss. A plump, wet one, and I’ll be off.”

“Seb, you heard her,” Arridon said, approaching the four teenage boys harassing his sister. “Her lips are hers to decide what to do with. Now be off or I’ll drag each of you to the pier and throw you in, one by one. Let you float to the war and right over the edge of the world.”

“Oh, we was just having fun with Thistle, Arridon. You both get your halfsie panties twisted over nothing,” Sebastian shot back.

Halfsie.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been called a halfsie, but it stung just as bad every time. Arridon’s blood boiled. He dropped the heavy bag filled with netting on the cobblestone street and shot a hand out at the throat of the kid who’d called his sister and him such a terrible name.

“Say that again,” Arridon dared him. “Call my sister and me a halfsie one more time.”

One of the boys stepped forward to intervene, to rescue his friend from the older, stronger Arridon, but the “halfsie” man stared at him with his golden god’s eyes, and the bully froze in his footsteps.

“But that’s what you are,” Sebastian choked out. “Dirty half-people. You think the two of you would add up to one worthless person but you don’t. Your two good halves are gone and the halves you got left don’t add up to nothing.”

“We are both more than half a person, thank you,” Thistle shot back. “Our mother was a god from the Endless City, and at least we know what man mounted her in the dark, you fatherless bastard.”

Sebastian slipped into rage and struggled, but the deceptively strong grip skinny and tall Arridon had on his neck held him from attacking Thistle. He resorted to grunting in anger at her, and foaming at the mouth like the angry surf, or the mouth of a rabid dog held barely at bay. After several seconds of that, Sebastian gave up the struggle, and stood, arms limp at his sides.

“Listen to me,” Arridon said, leaning down into the bully’s face. “All of you listen to me. I won’t say this again; next time I’ll save my breath and just punch you in the face.” He looked to each of their scared faces, and when he knew they were paying attention, he continued. “My sister and I are good people. Whole people. We didn’t choose that our mother was one of the god-kind, and I’ll be honest: I’m glad she was, no matter what the haters say. Now you say what you will about the other gods, and where they went when they left, but our mother was a good person, and so are we. Now pay close attention. I’ll stop being a nice person if you keep harassing my sister and me, you understand? I’ll use the part of me that came from her, and I’ll shrivel your little dicks so small they’ll turn inside out. And then, I’ll lay a curse upon your fields and your harvests, and your children—if anyone ever willingly touches your shriveled cocks. None of you will ever be happy again if you cross my family, and none you know will be either.”

###

THE BLEED: RUPTURE, written by MARK TUFO, CHRIS PHILBROOK and myself, is released on 14 July as an ebook, paperback, and Audible exclusive audiobook narrated by SCOTT AIELLO. THE BLEED: RAPTURE follows next March, with THE BLEED: ARMAGEDDON to finish the series in September 2021.

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One week until we start Bleeding

A week today will see THE BLEED: RUPTURE hitting the shelves as an AUDIBLE EXCLUSIVE as well as a paperback and ebook. I have two BLEED-related things to share with you today. First, some very kind words about book one from my good friend, CRAIG DILOUIE:

“From three of apocalyptic fiction’s most innovative authors, THE BLEED series pits humanity against an infectious, all-consuming evil in stories packed with great characters, interesting ideas, and plenty of good end-of-the-world fun.”

And here for your pleasure, because you can’t have too much of a bleeding good thing, is the cover for book 2. RAPTURE is due in March 2021.

THE BLEED: RUPTURE, written by CHRIS PHILBROOK, MARK TUFO and I is released on 14 July as an ebook, paperback, and Audible exclusive audiobook narrated by SCOTT AIELLO.

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War of the Worlds

Whenever I’ve been asked to list the books that have most influenced me as a writer, WAR OF THE WORLDS by HG WELLS is up there. I’ve always been fascinated by the impact Wells’s tale must have had on readers in the late nineteenth century, who’d never before come across the idea of Earth being invaded by creatures from another planet. It’s rightly regarded as a classic of the genre, but it’s a strange book because, in terms of action, it’s quite top-heavy. What I mean by that is, the most visceral and memorable scenes are to do with the initial arrival of the aliens and their first attacks. I’m sure if you’re reading this you already know how the original novel ends: the invaders are undone by bacteria. The story starts with a bang but ends with a cough.

This unusual structure has presented problems for many filmmakers over the years, because in retelling the story, it’s almost as if you’re working backwards from the climax. Many adaptations have been unsatisfying (the less said about the recent BBC adaptation, the better… what were they thinking?).

STEVEN SPIELBERG‘s version of WAR OF THE WORLDS was released in 2005. A new 4k Blu ray edition has just hit the shelves, and I thought now would be a good time to reappraise the movie. Having just watched it again for the first time in a decade or so, I think this is just about the best film adaptation of the novel there is (having grown up with JEFF WAYNE’s musical adaptation though – which terrified me and a whole generation of kids in the late seventies with its prog rock soundtrack and iconic artwork – I have to say that’s still my favourite adaptation of all; it shouldn’t work, but it does!).

Wouldn’t it be great if Steven Spielberg made a horror movie one day? I know, there’s JAWS, and maybe he did direct POLTERGEIST after all, and there’s kid friendly scares-a-plenty in RAIDERS and JURASSIC PARK, but to my mind he’s never made an out and out horror movie. This could have been that film, because Wells’s original novel is filled with plenty of terrifying scenes. And that, I think, is my major gripe with this film… it feels like chaos and devastation is perpetually about to be released, but Spielberg either holds back or (literally) looks the other way. That said, there’s plenty here to recommend.

I’ll say at the outset, I don’t like TOM CRUISE. I’m not a fan of major league movie stars as a rule (films can end up focusing on the actor more than the character, I think), but I really don’t like Cruise. My favourite film of his is LIVE-DIE-REPEAT/EDGE OF TOMORROW, and that’s probably only because you get to see him bite the bullet an almost endless number of times. But, despite my initial misgivings, I think he does a decent job here, along with other A-listers including TIM ROBBINS and MIRANDA OTTO. The Cruise family unit that gives the film its heart is well-formed, and the two kids (DAKOTA FANNING and JUSTIN CHATWIN) just about stay on the right side of annoying.

The real star of the show here, though, are the production design and the visual effects. There are some spectacular action scenes, most notably the first and last appearances of the alien tripods. Some of Spielberg’s regular collaborators – particularly composer JOHN WILLIAMS and editor MICHAEL KHAN – are on top form. Although some of the visuals and edits are quite jarring today (this film is 15 years old, don’t forget), there are some extended scenes which really pack a punch. The move from normality to absolute devastation in the first alien attack is a great example, as is the scene in which Cruise and his family escape the chaos in the only working vehicle and have to navigate an enormous jam of other vehicles that have stalled as a result of an initial alien EMP attack. Here, the camera flies in and out and around the car while it’s travelling at breakneck speed, and the effect is compulsive, drawing you into the unpredictability and volatility of the situation.

But it’s as a relatively straightforward adaptation of Wells’s novel that I think WAR OF THE WORLDS really succeeds. There’s enough of the book there, without Spielberg slavishly following every story beat. The beautiful striding alien tripods, their attack on the steamship THUNDERCHILD (represented by a ferry across the Hudson river in this version), the aliens feeding on humans, the crazy survivors who think they can survive by digging tunnels and living underground… the key aspects of the novel remain intact. Unfortunately, though, so does the ending. Having the aliens fall prey to bacteria might have been plausible in 1897 when the novel was first published, but it doesn’t wash today. Given how advanced these invaders clearly are, would they not have thought to check?

As I said at the start, all adaptations of WAR OF THE WORLDS suffer because the story starts big and ends small, but Spielberg’s version is hugely entertaining. It may fizzle out in the final scenes, but it’s a hell of a (rated PG) ride to get to that point. I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with the movie again and would definitely recommend the new 4k Blu ray release.

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The Bleed: The Moon

The first book in THE BLEED trilogy – RUPTURE –  written by CHRIS PHILBROOK, MARK TUFO and myself, is released on 14 July. Here’s an introduction to the second story strand which takes place on the moon.

Base Station New Start, Sea of Crises, Earth’s Moon Surface

It was 2035, the year the earth came to a tipping point it could not recover from. Deforestation, pollution, melting of the polar ice caps, overpopulation, and an inability to provide enough food had pushed the world into a war that dwarfed the two great wars combined. Nearly every country that had a standing military had joined the fray, battling for scraps of an ever-diminishing supply of resources. Alliances were tested, broken and reformed on a continual basis. It got to the point that most didn’t even know which side, or who exactly, they were fighting with anymore. Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and somehow killing each other seemed the best solution. For twelve years, unbridled savagery was released upon the planet. Billions died in the conflict, and there seemed no end to the misery. War and the wretchedness of it were all anybody knew.

It was a French woman, Esmee Marchand, who had covertly approached what remained of the governments with a plan to save what was left. Esmee had been an ecologist; she’d studied at Harvard and Cambridge University before the war started. She bore witness to the destruction of her planet and had switched her field of focus to terra-forming. She’d devised an original method of rejuvenating environments; creating safe zones for human life, and with this knowledge in hand, she had offered an escape, a fresh start. So, even as countries tore themselves and each other apart, scientists and technicians worked in secret to create rockets and gather the materials, people and animals that would inhabit the moon, always with hope that someday they could return to the earth, once peace had been restored and the threats facing our survival had been removed. What they did not know, what they could not know, was that the Bleed had found their oasis among the stars, and it was doing what it had always done: destroy.

2070

Day 1 8:02 a.m.

“Woohoo!” Samantha Morrison screamed as Tyler sent the M.O.W.E.R., the Moon Octagon Wheeled Express Rover, into a tight donut. She was standing up in her seat, holding on to the turbulence bar mounted on the dashboard.

“Sam, sit your ass down!” her brother, Derrick, said from the back seat.

“Just drink more of Maddie’s hot water and stop being a prude!” She smiled and twisted around, making sure Tyler got a good view of her backside.

“This beats the shit out of calculus!” Juan said, grabbing the illegal bottle of alcohol from Derrick’s hands.

“Speaking of which, don’t you think they’re going to know something is up when half the kids are missing?” Derrick asked.

“Moon flu,” Tyler said as he got the mower out of its slide and was now racing forward. At sixteen, he was the oldest of the four by three months. He stood nearly six feet tall and was the object of desire to almost every girl in his class, though there were only five. It didn’t matter to him, as he only had eyes for Sam. He yearned for her. The only downside was her twin brother Derrick, whom she insisted come along on whatever adventure they leapt upon.

To Tyler, Sam was the perfect woman. She had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that made him want to lasso the earth and give it to her on a charm bracelet. Then there was Juan, Tyler’s oldest and dearest friend. Their parents were molecular scientists and had been working closely together since they’d landed on the moon some twenty years ago. They’d known each other since their first remembered thoughts. They were as different as two people could be; where Tyler was tall and wiry, Juan was short and stocky. Their only similarity was that they both loved a Morrison. Tyler often smiled when he imagined what Derrick would think if he knew Juan had a thing for him.

“Don’t hog that!” Sam had to shout over the music blaring from the mower’s speaker system. She reached her hand back for the hot water. She took a hefty swig and sat down hard. “I think I might be…ebriated.”

“Ebriated?” Tyler laughed, looking over at her.

She laughed and then hiccupped. Tyler could not take his eyes from the heavenly sight.

“Dude! Tyler, man, look out!” Juan shouted from the back.

“Oh shit!” Tyler turned and was looking at one of the massive support pillars of a Terraforming Transfer Tower, a big one—a T3. The structure itself was over two hundred feet tall; the support pillar was ten feet across by ten feet high made of steel-reinforced concrete and it filled his windshield view. The mower wouldn’t so much as scratch it if it struck. Tyler pulled the wheel hard to his right; the internal gyroscopes did not have enough time to compensate for the sudden maneuver. The wheels on the left came up off the ground just as the front passenger quarter panel squealed in protest and collided with the tower. The force tipped the vehicle completely over and sent it skidding and twirling for close to five hundred feet before it came to a teetering stop on its roof. Dust swirled around outside and inside the vehicle. Electrical circuits began shorting, leaving a smell of burnt ozone in the air.

“Fuck! Everyone all right?!” Tyler fell to the ceiling as he undid his seat restraint. He looked over in panic to Sam, who was in a curled-up heap, blood flowing from her head.

“Good,” Juan said as he sat up and tried to help Derrick, who angrily shoved him away.

“Sam?” He was scurrying to move to the front and help his sister.

She sat up. “What a rush!” She was laughing.

“You scared us to death!” Derrick shouted.

“So dramatic, this one,” Juan said. “Uh, guys, better suit up,” he said as he watched a small crack in the window closest to him sucking out the all-important life-giving oxygen and replacing it with choking moon dust. “We’ve got a leak.”

The mirth at having survived the accident quickly gave way to alarm as Derrick moved to the rear of the vehicle to grab the pressurized suits.

“How far are we from the base?” Juan asked as he began to dress.

“I…I don’t know….” Tyler was quickly putting his feet through the legs as more oxygen seeped out. An alarm had sounded, warning of the loss of air, but promptly ceased as all electrical functions on the mower died.

Derrick again rooted around in the trunk, grabbing some liquid sealant. He squeezed the end of the tube; the semi-liquid moved toward the hole and before it could slip through, it spread out and sealed the breach.

“Good move, dork,” Sam said. He stuck his tongue out at her.

Once Sam had her suit on, she looked to the tower and up. “That’s number thirty-four, so we’ve got to be close to ten miles out.”

“You know the layout of the towers?” Tyler asked as he pulled up the front of his jacket.

“Our dad helped put them there and is responsible for the maintenance. He takes us out all the time to show us, as eventually this is supposed to be our job. Of course, we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in jail over this,” Derrick replied, looking sourly at Tyler.

“There’s no jail on the moon,” Juan said. “That’s only in the books and movies from Earth.”

“Yeah, well, they might make one now just for us. We need to get moving; we’ve got two hours of air and a lot of miles to travel. Dumbasses,” Derrick muttered that last part.

“What about the winch? Can’t we use that to turn us over?” Sam asked.

“I think the damage is too severe to drive, and besides…” Derrick pointed to a spot some hundred feet away where the spiraled winch cable sat in its housing.

“Um, we have another problem,” Juan said as he held up the broken faceplate of his suit.

“Shit, take mine,” Tyler offered. “I’m the one that got us into this mess.”

“Okay. Sam and I can go and get help; Tyler, you stay here with Juan. When the oxygen inside the vehicle is finally tapped out, you’ll have to share what’s in the suits. Should have plenty.”

“Look at Take Charge Derrick, my hero!” Tyler went in to give the other a kiss.

“This is serious!” Derrick pushed him away.

“So was I.” Tyler put on a mock countenance of hurt.

“Come on, sis.”

“Shouldn’t she stay here? It would be safer,” Juan said.

“Not sure about that,” Derrick answered, moving toward the airlock. “And you know we’re always supposed to go out in pairs in case something happens.”

“Not sure if the rules apply anymore,” Tyler said. “We already drank something we weren’t supposed to have and stole a mower.”

“That’s on Maddie for even making it,” Juan said, trying to make light of the situation.

“I didn’t drink any, and I didn’t steal this truck.” Derrick was next to the manual override. “Sam, come on.”

“Why’d you even come?” Tyler could not hide the hostility in his voice.

“To save your asses when you invariably did something like this.” His sister came up beside him. He turned the crank quickly; the inner door to the airlock opened with a hiss. He and Sam walked into the small anti-chamber before he shut and locked the door behind him. Then he went for the outer door. It took the combined effort of both of them to turn the wheel, the door having suffered damage from the collision.

“You should take it easy on him,” Sam said through the comm device built into the suits.

“And maybe you should reevaluate what you see in him. He could have killed us all and we’re still in a lot of trouble out here. It’s not recommended to be more than a mile away from a facility, and here we are, ten times that.”

“It’s so boring here, Der! You know that. You must. You’re always reading; don’t the people in those stories ever have fun?”

“Most of what I read is on science.”

“Maybe that’s your problem.”

“I hate to tell you this, sis, but Tyler isn’t going to be riding a white stallion to your rescue any time soon.”

Sam pushed him. “Shut up. I’m sixteen—almost seventeen—and besides playing board games with our parents, I barely have any fun.”

“And I’m the dramatic one,” Derrick sighed. “You should talk less and walk more. This is going to be close.”

“Shouldn’t we run? Jog, maybe?”

“We’ll use up our air faster.”

“What about the oxygen level outside? Haven’t the towers made enough yet?”

“I realize Tyler is dreamy and all, but don’t you pay any attention in school?”

“Why should I? You always fill me in.”

“The oxygen around us is a little over sixteen percent.”

“That’s not enough?”

Derrick let his head sag.

“I’m kidding, okay? I know twenty-one percent is the optimal zone for human life, but won’t sixteen point-two-five be enough?”

“The only thing that can survive in that is fire. It’s going to be five more years before we can live outside.”

“Oh, can you imagine? To be free of these suits…to lie out on grass and stare up at the stars?”

“We can do all of that in the solarium.”

“You mean that domed building with the glass ceiling? Not the same, baby brother.”

“By four minutes. My guess is you probably tripped me on the way out so you could be first.”

They walked the next few miles in silence, doing their best to conserve oxygen. Sam tapped the base of Tower 12 then looked over to her brother; his eyebrows furrowed.

“Five miles out,” he said.

“I’m at a third of a tank,” Sam replied.

Derrick said nothing.

“Derrick.”

“I’m at less than that,” was all he offered as he plodded on. After a few hundred yards, he stopped. “Sam, I’m not going to make it. If I give you my tank, you should have just enough.”

“You’d sacrifice yourself for little old me? That means so much! Okay, take it off, I’ve got to get going.”

“I’m serious!”

“Not a chance in hell I’m leaving you out here. We’re both going to make it.”

Derrick didn’t think so, but he didn’t want to waste oxygen arguing with his sister. He couldn’t remember the last time that had worked out in his favor. His visor began to flash red just as they saw the facility on the horizon. So damn close, he thought. His head began to swim as he took in more carbon dioxide than air.

He didn’t remember falling to the ground.

###

THE BLEED: RUPTURE is released on 14 July as an ebook, paperback, and Audible exclusive audiobook narrated by SCOTT AIELLO. THE BLEED: RAPTURE follows next March, with THE BLEED: ARMAGEDDON to finish the series in September 2021.

The post The Bleed: The Moon appeared first on David Moody - author of AUTUMN and HATER.

The Bleed: London

As I mentioned last week, the first book in THE BLEED trilogy – RUPTURE – is released on 14 July. Written by CHRIS PHILBROOK, MARK TUFO and myself, we’ve each created a specific world that we’re going to introduce you to over the remaining weeks leading up to publication. This week, present day London (although bear in mind that present day London looked a lot different to today’s actual present day London when this book was written!).

Somehow, everything in this complex sprawl of a city feels like it’s interconnected. More than seven million people live here and work and play and learn here, and despite the fact most of them stay happily within their own little bubbles, doing all they can to avoid talking to anyone else, the day-to-day runs pretty much like clockwork. The masses are together, yet isolated. People weave around each other along the clogged pavements, side-stepping without even looking up from their phones, skillfully avoiding collisions. The traffic stops and starts along heavily congested roads in bad tempered order. Deep underground, tube trains race from station to station at speed, dumping hundreds of people at a time onto platforms already crowded with hundreds more waiting to get on and be whisked away elsewhere.

It’s an incredibly complicated but largely well-oiled machine. It copes with occasional accidents and interruptions, compensating to keep everything moving. It would take something catastrophic to stop the whole damn thing in its tracks. Something way out of the control of Transport for London or the Metropolitan Police. Something bigger than anything ever seen here before. Something inexplicable and indisputably huge. Something mind-bending, world changing, even perception altering.

Something like what’s going to happen next Thursday.

#

It began as a barely perceptible greenish glow illuminating the underbelly of a disconcertingly specific section of the overcast gray sky above the heart of the city. Hardly anyone noticed it at first, preoccupied as they were, as usual, with the Thursday morning commute. At just before seven o’clock, few people were in the mood to be interrupted or diverted. The daily race to their weekday destinations had begun.

But the glow remained and slowly increased in brightness, the bile-green hue growing brighter, more and more noticeable. There was something of the Northern Lights about it, but the possibility was so remote, and anyway…surely not with this much cloud overhead? In any case, whatever it was, it wasn’t as important as the meeting at the offices near Westminster at nine sharp, or catching the connecting train to Milton Keynes at eight-twenty-three, or making that appointment with the casting director of that show and not looking like a complete hungover mess, or getting a decent place in the queue for tickets for the—

Everything changed when the cloud cover was breached.

It looked like a comet—a luminous nucleus with a sickly green-tinged tail—but its movement was all wrong. Instead of racing across the London skyline, it was instead bearing down. And actually, as crowds of people now gazing skyward began to realize, it wasn’t racing at all. The impossible mass seemed to be drifting down with control, sinking slowly as if coming in to land. As the comet-thing descended, its speed almost so slow now as to be imperceptible, people began to react.

Most stopped dead in their tracks.

There were collisions on pavements and bumps in the road as people spotted it. Those who hadn’t yet looked up followed fingers pointing skyward and all began to sense the early morning light changing. The subtle green tinge which had been barely noticeable now covered the city. It made everything and everyone look unwell.

Folks who normally completed their morning commute without saying a word to anyone they didn’t know began to look to each other for explanations, though none were forthcoming. In an atmosphere of anxious uncertainty, strangers quickly became allies. Pointless questions were posed, pointless because even though no one had any answers, it didn’t stop them asking. It was a nervous thing. As the bright mass continued its painfully slow descent towards the heart of the city, people nudged those next to them and cocked their heads in the vain hope this was just a publicity stunt they’d not heard about or a scheduled light display their fellow commuters might have seen mentioned on the TV news.

It wasn’t long before panic set in. Despite the absolute lack of detail or information, one thing was clear as crystal: whatever it was up there, it was heading directly for the center of London on an unstoppable collision course. The true size of the comet—if that was what it really was—had been hard to discern, but when an Emirates Airbus 380 flew past and was dwarfed, and then a phalanx of military helicopters crawled in front of it like tiny but well-coordinated spiders, it became painfully apparent to everyone watching that this thing was huge. As in capable of wiping out the whole of London huge.

As in…capable of ending all life on Earth.

Subdued British politeness turned to absolute fucking terror.

In contrast to the well-rehearsed order of just a few minutes ago, the pavements and streets were now chaotic in the extreme. And the faster people tried to walk or run or drive to safety, the slower everything became as one collision became two, two became four, and four became many more. It didn’t take a genius to work out that if—when—the comet hit, the area for miles around this place would cease to exist in seconds. Of course, that didn’t stop most people trying to get away.

Jennifer Allsopp wasn’t like most people.

She knew that it probably wasn’t worth running. She instead looked up at the glowing orb in the sky overhead, watching it tumbling over and over towards her. Although she’d have given anything to be somewhere—anywhere—else right now, she knew she was stuck. She could run at full speed for as long as she could manage, but it wouldn’t make any difference. She could catch the fastest bullet train (if they even had them here), but she knew she wouldn’t get far enough to escape the inevitable impact and blast wave.

Best not to bother trying, she decided. Save your energy.

None of us are going anywhere. We’re all fucked.

###

THE BLEED: RUPTURE is released on 14 July as an ebook, paperback, and Audible exclusive audiobook narrated by SCOTT AIELLO. THE BLEED: RAPTURE follows next March, with THE BLEED: ARMAGEDDON to follow in September 2021.

The post The Bleed: London appeared first on David Moody - author of AUTUMN and HATER.