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: A DAY WITH DADDYBrian J. Smith A GOOD NAMEMalcolm Todd APOCALYPTOPHILIAMatthew Wollin JUST BREATHEDL Shirey KING RATH. V. Patterson SACRIFICE FLYJohn Prather THE SPECTACULAR DEATH OF BILLY NICHOLSJoel Fishbane VICTORY IN DEATHJR Blanes NEVER SWIM ALONEClay Waters THE DREAMING CITYWayne Kyle Spitzer

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 15 | April 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #15

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. 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.* * *I looked at the nearest mount, a triceratops head with a broken horn (and a frightful visage), wondering what the circumstances of its death had been. Had it been charging-with the Flashback in its eyes, perhaps-and thus aware that it had an opponent? Or had it been unaware, just mulling its soft grasses, until the bullet entered its brain? "No, " I said, finally, turning my attention back to him. "Can't exactly say as I am. It-it's never seemed like a fair contest to me." I jerked my leg against the chain-twice-to make a point. "Does it to you?" "Pshaw, " he protested. "You speak as if we're enemies. As though this were some contest between you and I, personally. On the contrary, Mr. Hayes. It's a collaboration." I'm afraid I just stared at him. At last I said: "Okay-why not. I'll bite. What are you talking about?" "I am talking, Mr. Hayes ." He stood and began pacing the length of the table. "-about legend. About myth and memory-and the securing of one's place in the natural order of things." He withdrew something from his housecoat as he walked-a pipe; but didn't light it. "Posterity is what I'm talking about. A place at the table of the gods. That, and endings. Inevitabilities." He paused and struck a match. "One last and penultimate hunt." He lit the pipe and waved out the match, then turned, slowly, regarding me through a cloud of smoke. "Atatilla, is what I'm talking about. Queen of the Mammoths. The, ah, Leviathan of the Steppes, as they say. I intend to kill her. And you, my lost and wayward friend, are going to help me. By acting as my driver."

A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, Episode Eight: "The Elephant Slayer" - A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, #8

He fell silent and doubled over as someone punched him in the stomach, then toppled completely as someone else shoved him. And then, suddenly, there was a cry-a cry that sounded as though it had come from Ank and yet utterly different from any Williams had ever heard. A warbling, frightened, pitiful cry-the kind an animal might make if it were sinking into tar while surrounded by predators."Marshal?" said someone. "That came from the Lonestar Corral.""Then that means we've got 'im cornered, " said Rimshaw, and shouted, "Johnson! Let 'em into the armory! Let 'em all in!" And to everyone else he said: "Get your weapons and meet me at the corral. And someone fetch Creebald and Teller. I don't care how sick they are. I want them by my side.""But, Marshal, I just came from there, " said Johnson, pausing. "And they're plumb gone.""What do mean, gone?" snapped Rimshaw."I mean they ain't there. They're not at the Rio Grande. No one's at the Rio Grande."Williams craned his neck on the ground to observe Rimshaw's reaction, and what he saw sent a chill up his spine, for it all but confirmed what he'd begun to suspect. For as Rimshaw stared at the man coldly, his eyes black as coals and his face pale as the dead, his tongue slipped between his lips like a snake's and was just as quickly sucked back in.

The Quick and the (Jurassic) Undead

That's when I heard the strange sound: a kind of forlorn mewing, like the note of a horn being drug out too long, coming from just around the corner, just beyond the liquor store-and paused, holding up my hand. "What? What's going on?" I waved her into silence, dropping the rein, then hustled to the edge of the building-where, after peeking around the corner, I saw a juvenile sauropod of the Diplodocus family (meaning it was the size of a typical school bus) collapsed in the middle of the street-its right front leg stuck in a manhole. "What is it? What do you see?" I looked from the sauropod to the corner of a nearby building, where something had moved, then across the street to an overgrown alley. Yes, I thought. There. And there. Between the tattoo parlor and the marijuana dispensary . "Allosaurs, " I said, gravely. "An entire pack of them. In desert camouflage. They-they've got something trapped." "Omigod. It-it's not your dog, is it?" I returned and picked up the rein, began leading Blucifer forward, into the intersection. "No." "Wait . what are you-" "We're going through, " I said. "But what if those things-" "They don't care about us; they want the bigger game. For now. Just hold on." The horse's hooves went clip-clop, clip-clop as we passed, the bluish-gray sauropod coming into full view ... A moment later she said, "It-it's stuck. In the manhole. Do you see that?" I eyed the predators warily, continuing to lead. "There's nothing we can do about it." "But she'll be helpless against-" "That is the way of it, " I insisted. "The way of the-" "Look, would you stop with the Indian clap-trap? I'm not even sure-" There was a thwomp as the allosaur by the building leapt into the road-not by us but about fifty feet away, near the sauropod. "Jesus, can't you do anything? What about your bow?" "And risk bringing them down on us?" I intensified our pace, sprinting toward the Stratosphere. "No!" And then they were coming-the allosaurs from across the street-passing so close we could smell the meat on their breath; closing in on the frightened herbivore . until we passed the scene completely and sought refuge in a nearby gas station (its storefront had long since collapsed) and gathered there trembling as the sauropod cried out-for it wouldn't be long now until they fell upon her. "Jesus, " said Essie, listening. "What a world." "Yes, " I said, remembering. "My father used to say it had a demonic sublime; every tree and every rock, every animal, including man, down to the lowest insect." I listened as the sauropod moaned, seeming already to give up, to resign its fate. "And yet." "What do you mean?" "What?" "You said, 'and yet.' What did you mean?" I un-shouldered the compound bow-rubbing my aching deltoid, stretching my arm. "Nothing. It's just that . maybe it doesn't have to be this way." When she didn't respond I looked at her-found her already looking at me: calmly, meditatively, her eyes seeming to glimmer. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." "I mean . that I could end it. Her confusion and terror. That I-could prevent her from suffering." I looked at the bow and the dark, poisoned bolts attached to it. "That it's in my hands to do so."

A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, Episode Five: "Elegy" - A Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse, #5

Naaygi found them waiting for her-as she somehow knew they would be-as the cage doors opened, their forward-facing eyes glinting the same hue as the lights in the sky and their dark, storm-colored bodies held absolutely still (even as another animal joined them and brought their number to four). She even knew somehow what they were; that they were a breed of carnosaur the "evolved" humans had called nanotyrannosaurs, the "Pygmy Tyrants, " and that one of them, the one with the brand upon its tail, the leader, even had a name-Napoleon, for he had been bounced forward and back in time via another alien species well before the Flashback and still bore the scars of his sojourn among the humans. She didn't know how she knew these things, no more than she knew just where, within herself, Naaygi ended-and they, the lights in the sky, began. She just did; just as she knew that the Nano-Ts represented a queer offshoot of the dinosaur population that was altogether fleeter and deadlier and cannier than anything that had come before it. And thus she bowed to them, her avengers, her killers-their killers, the lights in the sky-the rain running in rivulets down her body as she dropped to her knees and touched her forehead to the pavement, a pavement which ran red with blood and was strewn with the dismembered, disemboweled corpses of at least fifty men and women. And then she whispered to them in a language older than words, Follow me.

Flashback Dawn: The Complete Series, Illustrated

When a black road grader begins stalking the streets of Schenectady, NY, its residents soon find that the road to Hell is paved ... in blood!Detective Rowe: Let's go back now-to when you first saw it move. Is that all right?Westbrook: Sure. Like I said, I'd just woken up from the dream when I heard it, just rumbling across the field where they'd been working on the road-Detective Rowe: The I-890-North Schenectady Corridor. Westbrook: Sure, I guess. So I went to my window-you know, to see what was going on, and saw it sputtering to a stop near the office trailers and other equipment-which were all covered in snow-just shutting down with a rattle, like it had been running for a long time. That's when I first noticed it, how clean it was-there was no snow on it at all. Like-Detective Rowe: But it was there when you went to sleep, isn't that correct?Westbrook: Yes, of course. Covered in snow. It hadn't moved since December, when they had that accident-you know, where the worker was killed. Detective Rowe: Clarke. The foreman. I seem to recall they had several accidents; including when they rammed into that layer of concrete. Westbrook: (inaudible)Detective Rowe: What?Westbrook: The Meyers. James and Mia. That's where the concrete was at. I used to talk with them sometimes, before the accid-Detective Rowe: You knew them?Westbrook: Before the traffic accident. The one with the semi. Last summer. Detective Rowe: Yes, I seem to recall that too. Something about them accelerating out of control-Westbrook: I think they did it. Detective Rowe: I'm sorry?Westbrook: The bugs. Detective Rowe: The . bugs. Westbrook: (inaudible): In the concrete. Where the Meyers buried them. At least, until the road grader came along.

Death Grader

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:NANTUCKET 2045Anastasios MihalopoulosMY DREAMHOUSE IS MADE OF MATCHSTICKSSabina MalikCALVING SEASONShana WaldmanCONNUBIAL BLISSJoseph HirschCOFFIN ROADWayne Kyle SpitzerTHE EXHIBITIONJames Austin McCormickWHAT IS GINGER?David BlitchFAMILY TREEArgus Z. BurtonTERRORIZERPaul LeeWHAT NOW?Matt Dennis

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 23 | December 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #23

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. These are the stories of a group of experienced survivors and their incredible machine, Gargantua: How they came to possess it, and what they did with it after. This is the recounting of a heist in Seattle in which they barely escaped with their lives ... and a journey to Lost Angeles to find their forever home--which just happened to be occupied when they got there. These are their Travels With Gargantua ...

Travels With Gargantua: A Post-Apocalyptic Road Trip

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.

Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction No. 15 | April 2023 - Dark Horses Magazine, #15

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