Love at the Dawn of the Elephant Apocalypse

     “I am here for the elephants. Nothing else matters,” Anya said, fiercely. “As long as they exist, I exist.”
      Looking back, I’m pretty sure this was the moment I fell in love with her.
      “But … everything goes extinct, eventually,” I said. “What makes you think you can save the elephants with just a handful of soldiers?”
       “I will save the elephants.” By the coldness in her voice I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “Or I will die trying.”    
Published as part of Pantheon Magazine's Gaia: Shadows and Breath, Vol. 1.
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Mindless Idiots

      A few of us gathered at the window in reception to see what was happening outside. It was very quiet along the avenue, just a lot of paper swirling and twisting in the wind, half a dozen cars with their windows smashed in, and occasionally a couple zombies staggering along, searching for human flesh.
      “They look so lost,” said Mindy, our account lead. “I almost feel bad for them.”
      “I wonder if deep down they’re really just sad,” Brian, the junior copywriter, said. “You know, being undead and all.”
      “It’s like they know something in their lives is missing, but they don’t know what it is,” commented Becky, an art director. “That’s why they’re so sad.”
      “And they’re trying to fill the emptiness by eating human flesh,” added Regina, our new proofreader. “I do the same thing with Chips Ahoy.”    
Originally published in Furious Gazelle.
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      That was me, standing in Morgan’s office with the gun in my hand. Morgan, my boss, was sprawled on her knees in front of me, her blouse torn away at the shoulder to reveal her pink satin bra strap. Tanya was kneeling next to Morgan’s desk, with blood running into her eyes. In the far corner, Dan was balled up in a fetal position, openly weeping. He wasn’t going to be any help to me at all.
      We were all copy editors in one of the hottest ad agencies in the city, and here we were, trying to kill each other. It didn’t make any sense. Our natural enemies were copywriters and account people—editors were supposed to stick together. Clearly, something had gone very, very wrong.
      “Nick, help me,” Morgan said. “Kill Tanya. Quickly.”
      “No, Nick,” Tanya said. “Shoot Morgan. She’s evil.”
      This was going to be a really difficult decision.    
Originally published in Short Story Library.
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