Outstretched, the man's hand shook but he steeled his resolve and pulled the trigger. Time slowed, he tasted the sweat on his lip. Someone started to scream and the gun barked. The impact of the bullet was a wet slap, like the sound of a rotten pumpkin being smashed on November 2nd.

Time jerked forward and his son lay dead, sprawled right on top of the half-eaten remains of the infant-sister he had been feeding on. Behind the man, his wife's piercing scream had petered out in to a low-guttural moan. The man's lip began to shake and he tasted bile. Off in the distance other gunshots could be heard echoing through their normally placid development.



His nightmare, well the nightmare had started off innocently enough the week before and had slowly become a living hell. The talking heads on the news called it an Organically transferable Cyber-weapon or a mal-plague. The kids in the know called it Zombie-crafter.

Nobody knew who let it lose on the net, some said it was the Chinese or Israelis, some even figured it was the CIA, after all it popped up in Iran first but none of that matters . The virus spread like a biblical plague from one social network to another as fast as wi-fi and 4g could carry it. Every cheesy internet game and status update became a gateway to another outbreak. The delivery method was simple a few lines of code triggering lashing pixels that instantly reprogrammed the mind and turned every victim, most of whom were kids into a gibbering, mindless zombies hungry for human flesh.

It was Insta-gram does the Apocalypse , live via twitter and brought to you by facebook. Welcome to the internets friend, please remember to update your status to fucked.



He managed to cover his children with an old afghan, mechanically, while his wife kept staring at the wall. He went over to her and grasped her hand but she didn't even respond. She looked right through him with dead eyes and whispered through tear stained lips, " I... can't, I don't....my,my..."

"Shh, i know. It'll be alright," he lied, hugging her as tightly as he could one last time. Then he gently placed the barrel of the gun against her temple. He only had half a clip of bullets left but that didn't matter. He was pretty certain he only needed two more.