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    Apex Magazine Issue 12
    Apex Magazine Issue 12
    Apex Magazine Issue 12
    Ebook58 pages51 minutes

    Apex Magazine Issue 12

    By Apex Book Company

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    About this ebook

    Apex Magazine is an online zine of genre short fiction.

    FICTION
    The Last Stand of the Ant Maker by Paul Jessup
    City of Refuge by Jerry Gordon
    The Days of Flaming Motorcycles by Catherynne M. Valente

    NONFICTION
    Round table interview with Gary A. Braunbeck, Nick Mamatas, Catherynne M. Valente, and Jay Lake

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherApex Book Company
    Release dateMay 9, 2010
    ISBN9781452352374
    Apex Magazine Issue 12

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      Book preview

      Apex Magazine Issue 12 - Apex Book Company

      Apex Magazine Issue 12

      Paul Jessup Jerry Gordon Catherynne M. Valente

      Apex Publications

      The Last Stand of the Ant Maker Copyright © 2010 by Paul Jessup

      City of Refuge Copyright © 2010 by Jerry Gordon

      The Days of Flaming Motorcycles Copyright © 2010 by Catherynne M. Valente (Originally appeared in Dark Faith, Apex Publications, 2010)

      Round table interview with Gary A. Braunbeck, Jay Lake, Nick Mamatas, and Catherynne M. Valente Copyright © 2010 by Apex Publications

      Cover art by user adbatalla (Pixabay.com)

      Publisher/Editor-in-Chief—Jason Sizemore

      Senior Editor—Gill Ainsworth

      Graphic Designer—Justin Stewart

      ISSN: 2157-1406

      Apex Publications

      PO Box 24323

      Lexington, KY 40524

      Contents

      The Last Stand of the Antmaker

      Paul Jessup

      City of Refuge

      Jerry Gordon

      The Last Days of Flaming Motorcycles

      Catherynne M. Valente

      Roundtable Interview with Gary A. Braunbeck, Nick Mamatas, Catherynne M. Valente, and Jay Lake

      Dark Faith Ad

      The Last Stand of the Antmaker

      Paul Jessup

      Paul Jessup is a critically acclaimed writer of fantastical fiction. He’s been published in many magazines, both offline and on, with two books published in 2009 (short novel, Open Your Eyes and the short story collection Glass Coffin Girls) and a third to come out in 2010 (the illustrated book, Werewolves).

      1

      When Benjamin was a little boy he painted things. Mostly small things. Like tiny houses. Or dinosaur kits. Or invisible men. He liked using the small brushes. Painting tiny, intricate details.

      His hand would cramp up by the end of the day. Painful. Claw shaped. He liked the way this felt. It felt like a good day’s work. He would line up his tiny pieces of art and look at them. Hand clawed up. Smiling. His room smelling of paint fumes.

      He didn’t have any friends. He didn’t like to read, watch television, play video games. In school he daydreamed about painting. His teachers thought he was slow. He didn’t go near anyone. Could not relate to them.

      His mind focused on his hobby. It was all consuming.

      2

      You would think that an older Benjamin would be different. That he would work, joke around with colleagues. Go to the bar after a hard day at the office. Hit on the waitresses. Make jokes. Get married, even. Have a few kids, even. Forget all about painting.

      It actually got worse. His mother died. Cancer. Isn’t it always? After that he got the house. All paid off. He only worked when he needed food. And that he bought in cans by the truckload.

      He rarely had to work. Instead, he painted. His obsession had gotten more distinct. More of a laser point in the darkness. Ants.

      At first he bought model kits through the mail. Ordered them on the internet. That wasn’t enough. He began to make his own. Taking apart pieces of his house. Tearing off chunks of wall. Chiseling off chunks of concrete steps. Making little ant bodies, little ant heads. His fingers cramping. Always cramping. As he molded. As he painted.

      He would sit in his basement. A can of fruit open on his lap. A spoon resting plainly. Fine and tiny brush pushed into cramped claw fingers. Painting. Intricate designs. War ants. Love ants. Fire ants. Firefighter ants. Giant ants. Tiny ants. Shaman ants. God of the ants.

      The basement was filled with ants. It was like his own ant farm. Made large.

      3

      He made highways for them. Byways for them. All the while not noticing that the plants grew outside of his basement window. Not noticing the yellow spores covering it. Tapping against it. Like fingers. Rat-tat tapping.

      He built ant houses. Ant shrines. Ant cities on an ant hill. Ant bonfires. Ant beaches. And ant graveyards for those who died during the great ant civil war.

      Eventually, he had to go upstairs and find supplies. To make more ants. To make more houses, homes, tunnels. To enhance the life of those he created. He was a good god. A good maker. A benign and loving deity. Whenever an ant died, he wept. They died frequently. Of war, of plague. The ant doctors and the ant scientists tried to stop it. To hold back death.

      Not even he could do that. Not even the ant maker could hold off death.

      4

      There

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