The Living Dead
John Joseph Adams
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of the residents—from the rest of the world, old ways had reasserted themselves with unspoken but inarguable force. By then they all knew what was going to happen; it was only a question of when. That, and being ready when it did. Women were excluded. It was Bob Daggett, of course, who drew up the watch roster. That was only right, since Bob had been head selectman on Jenny for about a thousand years. The day after the death of the President (the thought of him and the first lady wandering
no, no, no, no," said Freida in a forceful singsong. "No! The gods did not take her powers away." She leaned in, became conspiratorial. "Some man, and only a man, did that. You saw. You know." Zora, teasing, said, "Ah, so you have experience with men." "None more," Freida stated. Then she smiled. "Ah bo bo. That is night talk. Let us speak instead of daylight things." The two women chatted happily for a bouncing half-hour, Freida questioning and Zora answering—talking about her Haiti book,
look back. I knew my mouth must look funny because of the missing teeth, and I wasn't sure what the rest of my face looked like. Since I couldn't feel pain, anything could have happened. I bent my head so the sun wasn't shining in my face. "Miss? Oh, miss?" Either a woman's deep voice came from the car behind me, or a man's high one; it sounded like an older person. The engine idled low as the car pulled up beside me. It was a red Volkswagen Rabbit. I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding the
and Mike and the rest of their friends got out of school, all of that was already over. Nobody cared if you had a website. Everybody already had websites. No one was going to give you money. There were lots of guys who knew how to do what Soap and Mike knew how to do. It turned out that Mike's and Soap's parents had paid a lot of money for them to learn how to do things that everyone could already do. Mike had a girlfriend named Jenny. Soap liked Jenny because she teased him, but Jenny really
than human, the sound of a dingo or something. He was shaking his head from side to side and waving a hand in the air, stop, please, don't do this to me. It was hilarity to the point of distress. Robin Williams saw the desperate man, broke away from a discourse on jerking off, pointed at him and shouted, "You! Yes, you, frantic hyena-man! You get a free pass to every show I do for the rest of my motherfucking life!" And then there was a sound rising in the crowd, more than laughter or applause,