Carnacki: Gateway of the Monster - Part 2
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Welcome to episode 10 of the Curious Matter Anthology. Thank you to all our listeners and fans out there for your continued support and love. We have a very fun episode for you today. Now, this podcast is a labor of love, produced out of my basement in Reseda, California, and this episode was created entirely in quarantine with each member of our amazing cast doing their own engineering from home. So if you can, please consider joining our Patreon and supporting the show.

Every dollar contributed goes back to making Curious Matter better and getting episodes to you faster. You can also follow us on Twitter and Instagram at CMAnthology.

I'm sure you are all excited to unravel the mystery of the Grey Room at Cornish Downs, and I'll keep this intro short today. William Hope Hodgson's career was short due to his tragic death in 1918, but his legacy is one that can still be felt today in the works of people like: Guillermo del Toro, Alan Moore, Mike Mignola and Joe Hill,

But long before our current generation of writers was adding to the annals of supernatural horror, greats were acknowledging Hodgson's work. In fact, H.P. Lovecraft had this to say in an essay when asked about the influence of Hodgson: "Among connoisseurs of fantasy fiction, William Hope Hodgson deserves a high and permanent rank

for he now and then equals the best masters of lurking worlds and beings beyond the ordinary surface of life. Few can equal him in adumbrating the nearness of nameless forces and monstrous besieging entities through casual hints and significant details, and in conveying feelings of the spectral and of the abnormal. High praise indeed. So let's dive back into William Hope Hodgson's most famous creation.

This episode of Curious Matter is rated explicit and includes adult language and violence comparable to an R-rated film. Our show is designed to be a completely immersive HD audio experience, and it is best when played through high-quality speakers or headphones. So, grab your popcorn, turn out the lights, and enjoy the conclusion of Karnacki, Gateway of the Monster. Well, I think the house might be haunted. Indeed.

Didn't your mother teach you not to keep a lady waiting? That goes doubly so in your case. Good afternoon, Miss Dodson. Come in. Shall I take your coat? I didn't sleep a wink last night. The door of the Grey Room just kept banging away in my head. Quite the disturbing venture so far. I hope your night fared better. Oh, I never sleep. Ever? For the most part. I have a bit of a monkey on my back, as it were, when it comes to sleep. Acute insomnia, since...

Since the war. The war? Is that where you acquired your, uh... My scar? Yes. German shell in the Somme. Woke up several months later in an army hospital. Haven't slept much since. A boon in this kind of work, actually. I'm quite sorry. Nonsense. I've taken the liberty of having dinner ordered in. I hope you don't mind. That way we may see our tale to its conclusion without the need to go galumphing for sustenance.

Will Mr. Arkwright be joining us? He's fetching a Bordeaux from the cellar as we speak. Shall we? On with the show. Five o'clock, and no disturbances for the last hour and a half. All is quiet on the great room front. All except for Mr. Arkwright, whose ability to sleep back-to-back huddled in this tiny protective circle is on its own a wonder of science.

PERVAD THE DEMON! Mother have mercy! Peter, for God's sake man, announce yourself! I smell coffee. It's all in the rug now. I was coming to check on you two and bring a bit of breakfast. I'll have to have the cook make it again. What are you two doing crouched in that circle like animals about to pounce? Give a man a heart attack! Here, help me up. My legs are quite atrophied from sitting like that. Bumpy night? Thank you.

You are a godsend. Do you take your coffee with cream or sugar? Nah. Hot, black, and plenty of it's fine with me. So, Mr. Karnacki, what is the next step in your investigation? I inspected the door of the grey room on our way down. The wax seal has been broken, indicating the door did indeed open in the night. But we of course witnessed that ourselves when the camera and flash were triggered. You can never be too sure with these sorts of things.

The door was, however, still locked, with my card firmly affixed in its place covering the keyhole. It appears we have our work ahead of us before the sun again retreats. Sisyphus and the boulder, you know. What was it, Ick? I can never remember. Dying to see what's in the attic? Precisely. Though, I mean to clear the room. We must ensure that there was no intentional trickery to the events of last night, with a thorough examination. Get in the walls.

Take a peek under the skin of the house and eliminate all earthly contingencies. You want us to clear out the room? More than that, I'm afraid. Do you have a pickaxe in that shed of yours? Absolutely not. You mean to destroy the house! Oh come on man, just the room? We must make sure there are no hidden mechanisms or illusory apparatus that might be simulating the disturbances.

I forbid it! Mr. Anderson was made quite aware that I employ extreme methods. He assured me freedom to do my work. If that's not the case, my associate and I can be on our way, sir. Well, for God's sake, we'll just see about this. I would have loved to see the look on that man's face when you told him you were going to rip one of the exorbitantly adorned rooms to smithereens. It was quite the shade of plum. And he consented. Worse.

I made the man do most of the demolition as it were with his own hands. Parisian mouldings, Brazilian cherry wood parquet and all. The only thing we left in the room was the ancient mammoth four-poster bed. Why? A hunch. A hunch? All in good time. Clear this out! Get all this out! Get this refuse out of here! How much more do you need us to tear out? We're almost there. Only a few more spots of flooring and the bit of wall behind the bed.

It'll take us all to move it far enough to get at that section. Thank you for calling in the cavalry to assist. Mr. Anderson gave instructions on our call. There's no need to be sullen, sir. I know you protect this house as if it were your own. I just don't see what destruction gains. But Mr. Anderson insisted we allow you room enough to do your work.

I think he might have been a tad bit happy to see you give this room a bit of abuse back for change. Did he give you any other instructions? Just need to be sure I know which side I can count you on. Mr. Anderson's side. And he insisted I aid you the entire process. Well now, that is a surprise. Through the night to the very end? To the very end, sir. He also asked me something I thought...

A bit strange. Go ahead. Apparently, I am to keep an eye out as we search the nooks and crannies. For? An item of some worth that has gone missing or been misplaced. Gone missing? When? It's an heirloom. Something Robert was supposed to have had on his person the night... the night things went awry. What sort of heirloom? He didn't say. Just told me to keep an eye out.

that I'd know it if it revealed itself. Curious. Nothing out of the ordinary in the attic above. Well, it's looking more and more like our culprit is indeed... etheric in its nature. There's that word again. Yes.

And I believe now, as we begin the final act of our tale, it is time to elaborate on why I'm uniquely suited to tasks involving these preternatural phenomena. I'm all electric with anticipation. Well, there it is. During the war, I came upon a man, an Italian chap, scientist, inventor, served under him with His Majesty's Royal Signalman. And he had some very interesting theories about the relationship between otherworldly occurrences and the study of electricity.

Are you saying ghosts are electrical? Like what?

While you remember the sign I drew on the floor, certain symbols, celestial geometries, have the natural power to focus and control the flow of etheric energy. The one I drew was a barrier of sorts, and just as certain structures in nature can repel those manifestations, others can act as vessels. Some act like a battery, caging the energy within, while others can enhance that energy to devastating magnitude. Like a radio amplifier.

Indeed. But if this is true, why hasn't it been reported to the world? I mean, this could be the greatest scientific discovery in human history. For that, you'd have to ask the Italian. I'm simply an investigator and when possible, possible, an eradicator. Karnacki, you in here? The light! Close the door, man! Can you make anything out on the film? I'm just about to remove the negative from the developer. Please, my dear, reveal to us your hidden depths.

Hopefully the film survived your luminous entrance. The window. Draw open the shade, please, so we may see what's what. Yes, yes! Very well exposed. Where are the stars? What do you see? Here. Take the magnifying loop and look for yourself. Look at the shape, just left of the door handle, slightly inside the door frame. Well, I'll be. Look at that. A hand. That ain't any human hand I've ever seen.

No, it is not. It almost looks like... Bedclothes. That is... terrifying. I know. Isn't it wonderful? Extra-mundane animatus. This manifestation empowers the inanimate to become animate. Truly glorious. Great! Now our blankets can strangle us while we sleep. Well, at least we know you'll be safe. I don't believe anyone is safe within the walls of that room. So...

How do we exterminate it? Behold the power of modern science. This apparatus, once assembled, gives us the edge we will need to assess the true power of your unwanted guest. Can it kill these sorts of things?

God, no. It provides us with protection. 21 feet, I think, should do the trick. Would you do the honors, Mr. Arkwright, to compound, if you please? 21 feet. That means we'll need all 30 nodes. What can I do to help? Grab that spool of insulated cable there. Be careful of the ends. Dreadfully expensive to replace. We must lay out the shape of a compound decagram. We might be able to get away with a simpler star configuration, but we may find ourselves thankful for the extra protection. Compound what? Decagram.

Looks like a string of ugly Christmas lights.

This is a complex device that allows us to control the electromagnetic fields in the room and inversely mimic the manifestation's own etheric signature. Come again? Every one of these things has unique fingerprint. We use this bird's nest of wires and doodads to find out what it is, and then we punch it in the face with its own hand if it tries to enter the circle. Oh. I think I understand. Do you always have to use the "punch them in the face" metaphor?

It works. Batteries, please. Can't we just plug it in? We had electricity installed in 1918. Nothing can cross the threshold of the outer barrier. Nothing. This information will save your life, so listen closely. If any one or anything corporeal crosses the outer barrier line from within, it opens a hole in the defense. And even the tiniest crack in the armor may spell our end. Sunset is upon us.

May I suggest that everyone take this time to use the facilities? You let the butler stay in the room? Why? As witness to the truth of our work, I have found that clients can be skeptical of our findings. The kind of skepticism that comes with torches and pitchforks. Testes ponderantur. Testament is paramount. It is much the same reason why we are here tonight.

Did you not wonder why I changed my stance so easily and invited you into our circle? Did you think the threat of calling me a fraud would frighten me so? I just figured it was my charm and gumption. I let you in because whatever these things are, their power and number is growing and people deserve to know the truth. This episode is brought to you by Shopify. Whether you're selling a little or a lot...

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Reporting live from under my blanket, I'm Susan Curtis with Dunkin' at Home. Breaking news, pumpkin spice iced and hot coffees are back. I'll pass it to Mr. Curtis with his blanket for the full story. That is so right, Susan. You know, it's never too early to get in a spicy mood. I'm talking cinnamony goodness that's so tasty, people don't want to leave their blankets either. Back to you. No, back to you. All you. The home with Dunkin' Pumpkin Spice is where you want to be.

We're expected to stay in this cramped space the entire night? The inner circle of, uh... Thermionic nodes. The inner circle can't be more than ten feet. If you want to survive the night, I suggest you stay inside. Mr. Karnacki, are you sure your assistant, uh, should be the one at the controls of this? Apparatus. Shouldn't you be at the controls? Mr. Arkwright is a gifted engineer, and I trust him with my life, sir.

And may I add that if it were not for his minute stature, you would have to make do with even less room than you have now. You can thank me anytime. What are all the candles for if we have the apparatus to protect us? Do you notice any drafts or currents of air? Many houses have them, usually due to second-rate workmanship allowing air to enter through crevices and gaps in poorly constructed windows and doors. Of course not. I can assure you this house has been built and maintained to the highest standards. Well then.

If the candle flames bend or gutter, we may use their fluctuations as a manner of detecting the manifestation's movements. I don't mean to interrupt. Ah, it was just getting to the good part. I'm very sorry, but I would be remiss in my journalistic duties not to ask. Well, have at it.

You keep referring to it as the manifestation, but at this point wouldn't it be more accurate to call him by his name? I mean, it is after all the spirit of Robert Anderson. What in God's name makes you think it's the spirit of young Mr. Anderson? I mean, it's a ghost. You said it was a ghost, or a "theric whatever," and it only appeared after his death, so wouldn't that logically conclude that it's him or whatever part of him that survived that's stuck in that room?

So naive. She's like a newborn foal. Excuse me. We all can't spend our lives boxing with demons like you two gentlemen. Forgive my companion's jest. It's not a bad assumption, per se. But there are no simple headlines here. Ghosts, in the traditional sense, are largely myth. Then... what is it? Something else.

Something that defies even our limited understanding of such things. Something with vicious inclinations and the powers to do great. The candles have gone out. And the electric lights. Can they do that? Quiet, man! There's something outside the circle. Arkwright, raise the amplitude by 0.5 and sweep us through the V-band. Slowly, if you please. What are you doing? Hunting. Arkwright?

Move to the K-band. There she is. Increasing the cycle rate. This is the tricky part. Why? Where you see finding the fingerprint, as Arkwright so eloquently put it, also has the byproduct of aggravating matters. They hate it. That's it! In fact, the phase now! I can't stay here. Calm yourself, man. We need to get out of this room.

Let me out of this room this instant. Sit down now. I told you he'd bunk it. I need to get out of here. I can't stay here. I will not ask you again. I have no intention of letting anyone die here tonight. But I have no qualms with putting a bullet in your foot to protect my assistant and I if you insist on continuing this course of action. It's unlikely you'll bleed out before morning. As long as I miss the hour.

I suggest you sit down, Peter. Uh, I, uh... Pull yourself together, man. I can have Arkwright bind your hands and feet if you do not believe you can control yourself. Should I tie you up? There's no shame in it. We all lose it in this business from time to time. No, I think I will be alright. Aw, man. I almost beat the spread. You bet on whether I'd lose my nerve. Don't take it personally. Kanaki! What's happening? Curious.

Why is it suddenly so cold? Look at the windows. They're frosting over. It's drawing latent energy out of the air, strengthening itself. It's sucking the heat out of the room. Frost. Truly wondrous. Steady now. The batteries. Almost dead. That's impossible. The cold. The colder it becomes, the faster they drain. Does this thing know what it's doing?

What happens if the batteries die? Arkwright, switch to the magneto crank. We have contingencies for this sort of thing. We can manually power the machine via a crank-driven magneto alternating generator of Mr. Arkwright's design. I didn't know I'd be the one cranking the damn thing all the time. Oh, put your back into it now. It's moved to the bed. We are in it now. What is it doing? The sheets. They're moving! Steady on, lads.

The apparatus will protect us. It's rearing up to attack. Nerves of steel, boys. James, sir. Please. There is no need for this. We are trying to help you. We know you are trapped here. But with the grace of God, we can help you. Please, sir. Peter, I do not believe that whatever that is can understand you. I have to try. Robert, I know you are in there somewhere.

Robert, please hear me. If you are, we are... I made it through the barrier! It's... got all of me! Got you, Peter! It's dragging him out! Damn beast! If I could just get to my knife! Come on! You boys alright? Fine. That's new.

How did it get through the machine's defenses? This is where it gets really good. It didn't. But you just said the animated sheets clawed out and grabbed them in. The thing that inhabited that room showed real cunning. Intelligence without any doubt. And its power to animate the bedclothes was perhaps above that of any entity we have yet encountered.

It used the cloth as a snare, entangling the poor servant's throat as it attempted to drag him out from the other side of the barrier. Like a gas-darned cowboy picture. Was the man alright? Only a little worse for wear, once the noose was withdrawn. What happened next? One-two, one-two, and through and through the vorpal blade went, snicker-snatter. Excuse me?

He cut off the thing's, uh, arm. Yeah, arm, I guess. You can call the sheet an arm. After we unmanned the Abhuman fiend, it had nothing but a scrap of cloth at its disposal with which to threaten us. And so, we wore through the rest of the night with little more than the occasional tantrum from the thing. With guess who stuck at the organ grinder? Oh, surely I relieved you for a while. Not once. I clearly remember. Nope.

Hmm. Well, come on, get on with it. How does the damn thing end? Seems such a shame to destroy so beautiful an antique. The dealer said this bed came from Versailles. Pre-revolution. It's likely priceless. You think that demon thing is being held within the bed? Don't be silly. I think the bed is a portal to the etheric void. Where is Mr. Arkwright?

Now in the light of day, it's clear to me how much I owe you two. Sleeping like the dead, more as likely, after the night's excursion. I don't know if I'll ever sleep again. I can't thank you enough for saving my life. Sleep is decidedly overrated, but I plan to make sure this thing can't torment this house anymore. And cutting apart the bed will do that. First we cut it apart, and then we burn it.

If that doesn't work, we could always tear down the house. Here, help me cut down the crown above the foot of the damned thing. Damned indeed. That's the beam where Robert... Well, where he met his end. It's not him. What? That thing last night. It's not him. How can you be sure? Just trust me. The thing that attacked you last night, it's old and it's powerful. I'll eat my hat if it's Robert.

Your young master was likely as much a victim as you were. Perhaps there's some solace in that. Bagaroo! Well, I'll be a sweetheart sister. Look at that! What is that? Looks like burn marks. You mentioned Robert's finger was severed. Give me that chisel. Hooray. It burnt its way deep into the wood of the bed. The heirloom, funny. I can't recall the master ever wearing it.

What is that strange engraving? It is distinctive. Might be you'd want to ring up your employer. Tell him we found his missing trinket. What's with all the racket? In here, Samson. What you doing in here? Wow, that's a lot of paintings. It's likely we'll see this endeavor through before tomorrow dawns, so I thought I'd peruse a bit more of the house. Eh, you've seen one castle, you've seen them all.

What do you make of this portrait? The twice life-size Mr. Fancy Pants. I make that it probably cost more dough than my folks made in their entire lifetime. It is ostentatious, to be sure. But look there, around the man's neck. Is it a ring? I believe it to be this ring.

Can a guy catch a wink around here without missing the real change? I extracted it from the crown of the bed in the grey room, from three inches within a beam of solid oak. Here, take it, but do not put it on. It's heavy. Far too heavy for silver. What is this design? Ancient Norse, I believe. Do you know what it means? That was Mr. Anderson. He'll be returning on the next train.

He's beyond grateful that you found the ring. Beyond grateful. I think he may have even mentioned a bonus. Let's see what old Fancypants thinks when Kanaki here tells him he's gonna destroy him. You are gonna destroy him, right? Most definitely. Are you mad? It's priceless! Been in my family's keeping for hundreds of years. It's a vessel.

I believe the runic engravings act as a cage of sorts, and what lies within most definitely killed your son, his wife, and your grandchild. It is the source of terror that has plagued this house. I wouldn't be the man I am without it. It helped me build my fortune. It's my family's luck. Njord's Ring. Sounds crazy. For God's sake, I've thought myself crazy for years. But it whispers to you.

And if you listen to what it says, things just go your way. So long as you don't. Dong, the ring. How could you possibly know that? How did you come by it? The house. This castle. It belonged to my family's tribe. It sat overlooking the Cygnus soon, in one form or another, for over a thousand years. My parents were poor fishermen. But one day, just before my 18th birthday, a man comes to our home.

And he tells me that some relative I'd never even met left me Norden Ringis, a castle of all things. I'm young, I'm stupid. I think, great, I can sell it, buy passage to America, and wash the stink of fish away forever. But the damn place was falling apart. No roof, abandoned for years, maybe centuries. I took my cart with me to this hulking stone giant, hoping there'd at least be a few odds and ends I could hawk.

It was in the topmost tower, the one the locals called "The Fist." It was in the room at the very top that I first heard it speak to me. I found a hidden compartment. "This house has no tower." The architect that oversaw the house's journey modernized sections to be more suitable for modern comforts. I mean, made sense at the time. We brought it stone by stone. Why not be comfortable? A place fit for a prince of industry.

How did you know to avoid putting on the ring? The ring was sealed in an ornate lead box. I sold it for passage to the New World. It was the shopkeeper who bought it that told me what the runic inscription meant. "Njörðin suosi opéna ítarráska."

The weight of Nord's favor equals five fingers of ash. And you got don't whammy, but feel free to listen to my creepy whispers from that? It makes more sense in Finnish. And honestly, my hands were always too big. The ring would never have fit. And then you gifted it to your son. On the 4th of July, just after we announced he'd be taking over the company, so that he might lead with a god's luck on his side.

I made him promise not to wear it. I'm sorry to say this, and I'm sure it's what we're all thinking, but I don't think he'll listen. Five fingers of ash. We must destroy the ring. Okay.

The apparatus is powered up. I've got it to the same settings as last night. Should hold that thing in bay. What are we doing outside in the gardens? The haunting was only ever in the Grey Room. That was when the ring was inside, and I'd prefer not to burn your castle down. Sensible. Shouldn't we be within the circle? Not tonight.

I thought you said the machine only protects us if we are within the perimeter. How are a bunch of Christmas lights gonna destroy the thing that murdered my son? They are thermionic valves, sir. And they work? Uh, for the most part. I've placed a small crucible in the center of the apparatus. I will attempt to operate the gas torch safely from between the outer and middle barriers, being careful not to pass the inner vertices.

I expect the thing will defend itself. With luck, the single circle of nodes will provide enough protection for me to safely melt down the ring. Only I enter the machine's perimeter. Everybody else stay where you are no matter what you see. No matter what happens to me. Not until the sun has risen, even if it means my life. Karnacki, there's gotta be another way. I do not plan to die tonight. Do not enter the circle under any circumstances.

You got it boss. Good... um... luck. I've put the ring in the crucible. Donning my goggles now. I think it knows what you're trying to do. What I'm trying to do is concentrate. I shall now begin to apply heat. It's beginning to melt! The ring appears to be made of many intricate layers of different precious metals folded upon themselves.

What's happening? Oh, God. We should leave, sir. Let the professionals handle things. I'm not leaving. That thing killed my son. Karnacki! Almost through to the inner core. What is that? It looks like a molten hand reaching out of the stone cup. Mr. Karnacki knows what he's doing. Core is exposed. It's some kind of stone or crystal. I can see some...

Fish is beginning to form. It almost looks like Maggie. Simply baffling.

Then what happened? I saved his life. Again. I was fine. I gave you strict instructions not to enter the perimeter. And leave you to be strangled by a molten metal hand? You were about to die. What was I supposed to do? Boys. I had it all well under control. I was about to deduce the method used to entrap the manifestation until you so brazenly knocked me away. You wouldn't have deduced anything if you were dead. That is a matter of opinion. Boys! What happened to the manifestation?

The demon. The thing. Did you kill it? I highly doubt it. I don't rightly know. Likely, it escaped whatever void of space spawns these sort of things. Beyond what we've told you, the rest is a mystery. And there were no more disturbances? I do not believe so. Isn't that something you should be sure of before you finish a case? Normally. But Reginald Anderson...

So grieved by the knowledge that in gifting the ring to James he had caused the demise of his progeny, has ordered Cornish Downs be demolished down to the last stone. So then, what now? Madam Journalist from the Boston Evening Examiner is up to you.

I hope you enjoyed our presentation of Karnacki. If you haven't yet, please make sure to subscribe for free on the podcast platform of your choice and rate us with five stars today. If you like the podcast, leave us a review and connect with us on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook under the handle at CMAnthology. This episode was dramatized, directed, and edited by me, your host, Jonathan Pezza. It was co-produced by Melissa Starr.

Our ensemble cast self-engineered their recordings at home and include the talented voices of: Steven Weston as Thomas Carnacki, Ali Rivera as Mabel Dodgson, Philip Gray as Samson Arkwright, Chris Amick as Peter,

Melissa Starr as the parlor maid and Jonathan Pezza as Reginald Anderson. The score was provided by Epidemic Music, sound effects were provided by Soundsnap.com. The Gateway of the Monster is a work in the public domain and was produced in accordance with U.S. copyright law.

Curious Matter is a production of Jonathan Pezza Inc., copyright 2020, all rights reserved. If you have a question or feedback or just want to write and say hello, I'd love to hear from you. So reach out to me at jonathan at curiousmatterpodcast.com or check us out online for more information at www.curiousmatterpodcast.com. Here on Curious Matter, we dedicate each episode to an independent bookstore.

This episode goes out to Amalgam Comics and Coffee House in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Amalgam is a celebration of geek culture, a place for comic book fans, hardcore gamers, movie addicts, television connoisseurs, and zombie apocalypse survivalists to meet, and with their powers combined, change the world just a little bit. You can find them at 2578 Frankfurt Ave, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and online at amalgamphilly.com.

So if you're in the neighborhood, do yourself a favor and head on over and buy yourself a comic book. And if not, they got you covered with their online shop. So find yourself a new favorite today. We'll be back real soon with two more episodes to wrap up our season one. In the meantime, make sure to subscribe for free on the platform of your choice. And thank you guys for listening. The Fable and Falling Network, where fiction producers flourish.

From the creator of Redmond Bourne and...

I can't exactly control most of the things zombie me does. I'm basically what amounts to a backseat driver in my own body. You learn to kind of just go with it after a while, I think. Like, do I feel bad for eating a family of four when I was new? You bet. Not exactly my favorite memory.

Hannah is living her best un-life, while unknowingly being on a crash course with Callie, an explorer desperately seeking to leave her mark on an American wasteland that seems to be all out of new discoveries. One might say that it's the comics that got me into this, but between you and me, I'm gonna blame the McSotas.

No sense in ruining everything I like in one day. Together, this unlikely pair team up against the dangers of post-apocalyptia. Okay, this thing is not playing around at all. Sometimes I miss the old days. Killing zombies for upstart communities. Now that was a lot more simple. A lot more ethical, too. Wouldn't you say so?

Don't you think it's a little more ethical to kill a zombie than just some stranger on the road? Panapocalypse. A story about love, death, and robots. Just not the next guy.