Narrator: T. Ryder Smith

Double Dead (Tomes of The Dead)

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Double Dead (Tomes of The Dead)
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In the Zombie apocalypse the last vampire on Earth has a hell of time keeping his food alive…

A Vampire In Zombieland

Coburn’s been dead now for close to a century, but seeing as how he’s a vampire and all, it doesn’t much bother him. Or at least it didn’t, not until he awoke from a forced five-year slumber to discover that most of human civilization was now dead – but not dead like him, oh no. See, Coburn likes blood. The rest of the walking dead, they like flesh. He’s smart. Them, not so much. But they outnumber him by about a million to one. And the clotted blood of the walking dead cannot sustain him.

Now he’s starving. And on the run. And more pissed-off than a beestung rattlesnake. The vampire not only has to find human survivors (with their sweet, sweet blood), but now he has to transition from predator to protector – after all, a man has to look after his food supply.

Blindsight

Blindsight
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Canadian writer Peter Watts stands on the cutting edge of hard SF with the Hugo and Campbell Award finalist and Locus Award winning Blindsight Two months since the stars fell… Two months of silence, while a world held its breath. Now some half-derelict space probe, sparking fitfully past Neptune’s orbit, hears a whisper from the edge of the solar system: a faint signal sweeping the cosmos like a lighthouse beam. Whatever’s out there isn’t talking to us. It’s talking to some distant star, perhaps.

Or perhaps to something closer, something en route. So who do you send to force introductions with unknown and unknowable alien intellect that doesn’t wish to be met? You send a linguist with multiple personalities, her brain surgically partitioned into separate, sentient processing cores.

You send a biologist so radically interfaced with machinery that he sees x-rays and tastes ultrasound. You send a pacifist warrior in the faint hope she won’t be needed.

You send a monster to command them all, an extinct hominid predator once called vampire, recalled from the grave with the voodoo of recombinant genetics and the blood of sociopaths. And you send a synthesist—an informational topologist with half his mind gone—as an interface between here and there. Pray they can be trusted with the fate of a world. They may be more alien than the thing they’ve been sent to find.