The Passage by Justin Cronin

A lidded eye of moon was hanging over the tree line, like a child's toy suspended on a wire, a smiling moon face dangling above a baby's crib. Its light spilled over a landscape of ashes, everything dying, the world's living surface peeled away to reveal the rocky core of it all. Like a stage set, Wolgast thought, a stage set for the end of all things, all memories of things.

Pale - Catastrophic Skies

Their sound is a bit hokey but this video kicks some serious ass.

Musical Interlude The Thirteenth

London calling to the zombies of death

this world we live in

"It's hard to lose friends," he said.
I figured that meant we could start biking again. "Have you lost friends, too?" I asked.
"Everyone has," he said.
I thought that was a pretty lousy answer. He could have consoled me for my losses or he could have told me about his, but to point out the whole world is a rotten stinking mass of death didn't make me feel any better.

- Miranda

Happy-Beach-Reading-Fun-Time

Is it wrong to enjoy reading about a giant mound of frozen bodies while you're relaxing on Laguna Beach? I don't know, maybe.