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    Apex Magazine Issue 2
    Apex Magazine Issue 2
    Apex Magazine Issue 2
    Ebook61 pages42 minutes

    Apex Magazine Issue 2

    By Apex Book Company

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    About this ebook

    Apex Magazine is a digital zine of genre short fiction.

    FICTION
    Pimp My Airship by Maurice Broaddus
    Kenny 149 by Brad Becraft
    Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast by Eugie Foster

    NONFICTION
    Game Fiction: Why It Works (And Why It Doesn’t) by Monica Valentinelli

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherApex Book Company
    Release dateNov 22, 2010
    ISBN9781458022912
    Apex Magazine Issue 2

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      Book preview

      Apex Magazine Issue 2 - Apex Book Company

      Apex Magazine Issue 2

      August 2009

      Maurice Broaddus Eugie Foster Monica Valentinelli Maggie Slater Brad Becraft

      Pimp My Airship Copyright © 2009 by Maurice Broaddus

      Kenny 149 Copyright © 2009 by Brad Becraft

      Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast Copyright © 2009 by Eugie Foster (Originally appeared in Interzone #220)

      Game Fiction: Why It Works (And Why It Doesn’t) Copyright © 2009 by Monica Valentinelli

      Interview with Gene O’Neill Copyright © 2009 by Maggie Slater

      Cover art by Enrique Meseguer.

      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

      Kenny 149

      Pimp My Airship

      Sinner, Baker Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast

      Game Fiction: Why It Works (And Why It Doesn’t)

      Interview with Gene O’Neill

      Pimp My Airship Ad

      Kenny 149

      Brad Becraft

      Although Brad Becraft currently resides near Carrollton in northern Kentucky, he is originally from Mudlick, a tiny spot on the map in the eastern part of the state. He taught high school Physics and Math before moving into the private sector, where he now works in the Science and Technology division of a Carrollton area manufacturer.

      Brad shares his home in the country with his wife, Gail, their three children; Jon, Jacob and Jordan along with their assorted horses, dogs, cats, chickens, gerbils, and fish.

      Brad’s been writing for a number of years, but this is his first sale.

      The mud looked

      up at him and grumbled, Who the hell are you?

      The musty smell of the grass and ground clogged his nostrils as he strained for a single, clean breath and dug his fingers deep into the dirt. His eyelids quivered and strained to open while he felt himself mixing into the ground as blood and flesh sought refuge in the soil of the battlefield.

      The whispered sizzle of a particle beam was followed by a smell like burning aftershave. Somewhere in the smoke, amid the staccato of clanking metal, something screamed an unrecognizable sound.

      The mud drawled with a slow, familiar twang, I’ll ask again ol’ buddy. Who the hell are you? It always spoke with his voice.

      Trauma induced disassociation, one of the Docs had explained.

      It used to bother him, a long time ago; but since it never had anything new to talk about, he mostly learned to ignore it.

      The air suddenly went silent, but for the constant thrum of his heartbeat rushing inside his ears. He peered through matted, bloody eyelids and surveyed the smoking field around him. Billows of gray and brown crawled like carrion creatures along the piles of unmoving bodies and he realized that again he was the last. Like so many times before, it was just him and the mud.

      A mortar exploded somewhere to his left. His body rocked and he grimaced in unexpected pain. The extras hadn’t kicked in yet. He shivered.

      Hey! the mud protested. Do I come and mess your house like that?!

      The cool of the earth pressed against his stomach, and he probed with his fingers. They encountered an opening just above his navel and the sticky, wet warmth of his own blood covered his hand. The sensation sparked memory and the memory spilled into his thought.

      It’s a synthetic coagulant, Private, Major Ghunda explained, as she withdrew the needle from his arm. We’re going to include it with your weekly anti-rejection therapy for a while. We’re very excited about it and you’re so lucky to pilot its use.

      So what does it do? he asked her.

      And call me Kenny, Doc. All the docs do.

      She smiled and patted his hand. It responds to trauma much faster than your human coagulating agents. If you are wounded, Kenny, this material will immediately begin forming a silicone coagulate at the injury site and slow the fluid flow.

      Well, I guess that would be useful. He shrugged.

      She smiled again and shook her head. "I think you’ll appreciate it, although I hope you don’t have any use for it soon. Now let’s go over your latest test results. The latest transplants seem to

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