The fourth story in the series Timekeeping on Mars. It is now 42 years after The Bicycle Messenger. Stranded on fishing boats off the coast of Africa, men struggle to survive.
( No undead creatures appear or are harmed in this story)
I am praying every goddamned day for the space aliens to come and save us from ourselves.
In the meantime, I drink in the various establishments and watering holes of Southeast Queensland and grow tomatoes --big fucking, slushy red ones that gush when you bite into them. On occasion, I write short stories.