Carnosaurs . gangs of killer hipsters . post-apocalypse Seattle is to die for. Welcome to the Big Empty, the world after the Flashback ... a world in which most the population has vanished and where dinosaurs roam freely. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere and all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to change you: for better or for worse. It is a world where a band of survivors will brave roving packs of monsters and men in post-apocalyptic Seattle to retrieve a prize of incalculable worth, and where a group of travelers will find themselves trapped in a service station with an unravelling President of the United States as prehistoric horror closes in . "Like Land of the Lost - for adults!" - Erik Schubach, Scythe A Flashback Adventure

Escape From Seattle

With just hours to go before the Flashback, L. A. explodes in racial unrest ... From Sun-Dogs: It happens so fast we barely have time to notice how wrong everything it is, how incongruous-how empty the intersection at Florence and Normandie feels, how the palms and other vegetation-the grass itself-all seem to have grown and multiplied. Or that the streets are now full of abandoned cars and trucks-as though everyone has just gotten up and wandered off, wandered into the smoke-or that we are being triangulated from the instant we touch down: triangulated and set upon-all of it before we've even unloaded our equipment or Peter has shut off the engine. All of it in a virtual eyeblink. All of it, in short, in a perfect whirlwind-as the jackals, the wolves, the fucking emus (only with lashing tails and monitor lizard teeth), descend on us like flies, like marauders. As Peter takes the helicopter up and I do the only thing I can; which is pretty much to drag Sunny into the nearby Chevron (even as the engine whines and the animals scatter), and, ultimately, watch her bleed out and die in my arms. And then it's over, and I'm alone, and there is nothing but the television squawking and a lone siren. Then it's just me and Bizarro L. A. and Patty Severinsen-Wood-the eleven o'clock news anchor-who apparently hasn't gotten the memo. "It is, ah, now eleven o'clock and, ah, tonight a community is venting its fury over the verdicts in the Troy Harper beating trial. Fires are raging in South Central Los Angeles at this hour-a testament to the anger and frustration felt by many of its residents. It began just a few hours after the verdicts were announced, with people looting stores and setting them on fire, but quickly escalated to assaults and beatings; four drivers, at least, pulled from their vehicles and attacked. Chaos also erupted at the downtown Parker Center, L. A.'s police headquarters, where scuffles broke out throughout the evening. Meanwhile, police in riot gear can mostly just stand by, hoping by their presence to somehow keep a grasp on order. We're going live to one of our news ." But I'm no longer listening, only tittering uncontrollably. I'm no longer doing much of anything but marveling at the absurdity of it all-the futility. And then I'm not even doing that; but just staring at Sunny. Then I'm crying as the tv drones on and the whump-whump of the helicopter slowly remanifests.

Sun-Dogs

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse . How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather-which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees-it didn't take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn't take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback-which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake-to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country. From "The Devil's Triangle": There were six of them, as I said-all of whom rushed us the instant our feet touched the ground. All of whom snarled and charged us like wolverines as we raised our weapons and fired-the flare gun cracking and hissing, blanching the scarlet haze (for the sun had painted everything red and gold), its projectile punching through one of the raptors' chests and lighting it up so that its ribs were backlit briefly and I could see, if only for an instant, its burning, beating heart. Yet still they came, another one leaping at me even as I dropped the gun-which clattered against the planks-as I dropped it and grabbed the thing by its neck-then brought the knife down with my other hand and stabbed it between the eyes. "Run!" I shouted, even as Amanda shot another-her second-and then bolted toward the shore, drawing the others so that I was able to snatch up the flare gun and quickly reload it; so that I was able to pursue them and to shoot one in the back-while Amanda turned and took out the last of them (shooting it in the head so that the back of its skull exploded like a spaghetti dinner thrown against the wall; so that it collapsed, writhing, about 10 feet in front of her-whereupon she quickly approached it and shot it again, just to be sure). And then she looked at me (as the dead and dying animals lay all around us) and I looked back: our chests heaving; our faces covered in sweat, our worn clothes bloody and disheveled, and I knew that she knew-which was that today we were the predators, the thing needing to be feared-the killers. And that neither of us needed to worry; not about food or other predators or mysterious lights in the sky or anything. Because we were the masters of our fate, we and no one else, not even God. And we were the master of the world's fate, too. At which she ran to me and we collided and I held her fast, there on the long jetty in the Atlantic Ocean (in the Bermuda Triangle), there beneath a day moon and the blood-red sky, in an instant in which it was good, so very good, not to be afraid, not to be alone. And as to what may or may not have happened in those breaths, those pulse points between that moment and the next-the next day, the next search, the next milestone; as to that, I offer only a quote from Gandhi: "Speak only if it improves upon the silence."

The Lost Country, Episode Four: “The Devil’s Triangle” - The Lost Country, #4

She was in the habitat-actually in it, not seated at her workstation on the other side of the glass. She was standing before Napoleon in her white lab coat, which, inexplicably, she unzipped and shirked from her shoulders, allowing it to slide to the marshy floor. She didn't know how she had gotten there or how time had rewound so that the habitat and its great glass window were still intact . she only knew she was there to take the experiment to the next level. And as Napoleon looked down at her with eyes that had become strangely human, she knew that he knew why she was there as well .And then she was awake as fast as she'd gone out, and she was standing, slowly, amongst the trees again . wondering why she would dream such a thing. And wondering, too, about the hidden obsessions each and every human being might harbor in the darkest recesses of their subconscious. And then she scanned the trees, realizing, suddenly, that they were swaying-even though there was no wind-and saw Napoleon glaring back at her.

Napoleon

Dark horse/'därk '?hôrs/noun1. a candidate or competitor about whom little is known but who unexpectedly wins or succeeds."a dark-horse candidate"Join us for a monthly tour of writers who give as good as they get. From hard science-fiction to stark, melancholic apocalypses; from Lovecraftian horror to zombies and horror comedy; from whimsical interludes to tales of unlikely compassion--whatever it is, if it's weird, it's here. So grab a seat before the starting gun fires, pour yourself a glass of strange wine, and get ready for the running of the dark horses. In this issue:CLARITYMark J. SchultisCONSUMEDOphelia VangTHE MIRRORAngelisa Fontaine-WoodALUKA OF THE WITCH DOCTORSWayne Kyle SpitzerMY FEELINGS ARE PLOTTING AGAINST MESabina MalikPUMP AND GOCaitlyn PaceSPLENDID ISOLATIONPeter Emmett NaughtonTHE NIGHT WITCHRobert John JensonUNINVITED GUESTSAdam NewnhamVISITORJeremy Schnee

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 8 | September 2022 - Dark Horses Magazine, #8

"You're gonna smoke it with me, aren't you, Vic?" he asked, following me. I stopped in the living room and kicked off my hiking boots."Huh, Vic? How about it?" He walked around me and plopped himself down on the couch, which was even greasier than the carpet, if that was possible. "It'll be just like old times."A towering, purple bong sat at his feet, ready to go. I sat down in the easy chair across from him, rubbing my temples. It's coming."Sure, " I said, finally. "Just like old times."

Red Marillion

The final Flashback begins ... It's all led to this. All the characters and situations of the Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse come together in a final trilogy of tales that will close out and define the saga. Join Ank and Williams, the crew of Gargantua, the kids from Thunder Road, and so many others as they heed the call to adventure one last time and face the very architects of the Flashback!From The War-torn Hills of Earth:The gold fog rolled and so did the water, foaming and frothing, revealing first the photonics mast and communications antennas, then The Sarpedon's black, sea-slicked sail and forward fins, then its great, dark, parabolic bow-which breached the surface at an angle, like the plesiosaurs and ichthyosaurs and mosasaurs swimming alongside-until, still steaming forward, the ship was fully surfaced and its aft fins visible; at which three people-two men and a small woman with a bob haircut-appeared in the sail."Jesus, " gasped Puckett, the engineering chief, as he looked at the beasts, which filled the water for as far as the eye could see (which nonetheless wasn't very far, due to the fog). "If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it. The sonar doesn't lie."Captain O'Neil was more circumspect. "But why, goddammit. That's what I want to know. I've certainly never seen them migrate en masse like this-like Hammerhead sharks. What's the reason?"Both of them had to shout over the crash and commotion of the waves. Pang signed excitedly at them as the wind chopped her hair."What's she saying?"Puckett, who'd been working with her, paraphrased: "She's saying, 'What if they were called too-only in a different way?'" He watched as she continued to sign. "'Or-considering the dream used sound and imagery instead of words-the exact same way?'"O'Neil looked at the marine animals as they leapt and dove and swam powerfully alongside. Aye, but for a different reason, he thought."Ho!" cried Chief Puckett suddenly. "The Santa Monica Pier!"O'Neil peered into the fog and saw the tiny silhouette of a Ferris wheel emerging from the gloom, then unhooked his mic. "Half ahead, revolutions 500-and mind the beasties." He looked at Pang. "Yes, I'm going to send a team ashore. And no, you're not-"And that's when it happened: that's when the pterodactyl flapped down like an oyster-white threshing machine and snatched her up by the shoulders-began rising. That's when O'Neil drew his sidearm-even as Puckett grabbed her by the ankle-but couldn't get a shot in through the pounding wings and Pang's own flailing-until there was the briefest of openings, and he did fire. Until he got lucky, and the bird fell and so did Pang-still being gripped by her ankle-so that she was flipped upside down and slammed against the sail-which her head hit like a rock. So that she was knocked unconscious even as Puckett and O'Neil held tightly and ultimately dragged her back into the conning tower. After which, drearily-for they were unable to wake her or get any sort of reaction at all-there was nothing to do but take her to the infirmary and monitor her. Nothing to do, frankly, but pray.

The War-Torn Hills of Earth | Flashback: The Final Trilogy of Stories | Part Three - Flashback/The Dinosaur Apocalypse: The Final Trilogy of Stories, #3

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the dinosaur apocalypse. How did it all begin? That depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather-which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees-it didn't take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn't take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback-which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake-to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the world of the Flashback, a world in which man's cities have become overgrown jungles and extinct animals wander the ruins. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere, all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to challenge you, for better or for worse. In short, it is a world where anything can and will happen. So take a deep dive into these loosely connected tales of the Dinosaur Apocalypse (each of which can be read individually or as a part of the greater saga): tales of wonder and terror, death and survival, blood and beauty. Do it today, before the apocalypse comes.

A Best of the Flashback Almanac: A Treasury of the Very Best from the Flashback Universe

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the dinosaur apocalypse. How did it all begin? That depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather-which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees-it didn't take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn't take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback-which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake-to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the world of the Flashback, a world in which man's cities have become overgrown jungles and extinct animals wander the ruins. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere, all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to challenge you, for better or for worse. It is a world where frightened commuters will do battle with murderous bikers even as primordial monsters close in, and others will take refuge in an underground theme park only to find their worst enemy is themselves. Where ordinary people-ne'er-do-wells on a cross-country motorcycle trip, a woman on a redeye flight to Hell, a sensitive boy stricken with visions of what's to come--will find themselves in extraordinary situations, and a gunslinger and his telekinetic ankylosaurus will embark on a dangerous quest. A world where travelers will be trapped with an unravelling President of the United States and a band of survivors will face roving packs of monsters and men in post-apocalyptic Seattle; where rioting teenagers will face deadly predators (as well as their own demons) while ransacking the nation's capital; where a Native-American warrior will seek to bury his past--and offer an elegy for all the Earth--in what remains of Las Vegas. In short, it is a world where anything can and will happen. So take a deep dive into these loosely connected tales of the Dinosaur Apocalypse (each of which can be read individually or as a part of the greater saga): tales of wonder and terror, death and survival, blood and beauty. Do it today, before the apocalypse comes.

Escape From Seattle

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