Apocalypse No

You know what I love? Viral apocalypse books, like the first half of The Stand.

You know what I hate? Viral apocalypse books that make no biological sense, like…well, it’s not nice to name names. (Also, the rest of The Stand.)

I mean, The Stand was great because you could sum up the virus in one line: it’s the flu, only it adapts to your antibodies, so every time you start mending, it knocks you on your arse. It’s straightforward. Relatable. The flu comes for everyone, head full of fever, lungs full of snot, and maybe you’re not dying, but you feel like you are. You can see how it’d kill you if it kept coming back, how it’d drown you and burn you and grind you to dust.

I won’t comment on the rest of The Stand. Stephen King knows what he did. But that first half was primo, and I had the flu when I read it, which made it double-good. I stayed up all night sneezing into hankies and tossing them on the floor—even aiming for the trash can would’ve drawn me from the page, and I had to see what happened next.

Actually, even loony scenarios can be good, provided they embrace the madness. There’s this one series, Z Nation, where the writers were like science? What science? —so zombies were dead, but not all the way dead, and you could get pregnant by one if you were into that. If you weren’t, you could carry its head in a basket, and that head would talk to you, and huge wheels of Gouda would roll down the street, squashing everything in their path. You could get zombie George R. R. Martin to sign a zombie autograph, and I’ve not laughed so hard since that Blackadder episode where the Duke of Wellington went on a murder spree in Buckingham Palace, with a cannon.

So, barmy scenarios are fine. What sucks are the ones that get stuck in the middle, where they’re trying for dark and brooding but the science is hilarious, like “this is a virus that attacks the mitochondrial DNA, causing rapid, uncontrolled tissue growth. You get teeth in your eyeballs and toes in your guts, and the only cure’s a rare genetic mutation, but only one girl has it, and then—“

—and then your eyes glaze over, because none of that works that way, and what the actual fuck?

It’s not that you can’t have a bizarre epidemic. It’s that you can’t have a bizarre epidemic that you outline with jargon you’ve picked up off House. You don’t have to explain it, just make it visceral, like James Herbert in The Rats:

The fever strikes within five or six hours. Jaundice sets in immediately. The victim rapidly loses all his senses – sight goes first. The body goes into a coma, occasionally being racked by violent spasms. Then, the most horrible thing happens. The skin – by now completely yellow – becomes taut. It becomes thinner as it stretches over the bone structure. It turns to a fine tissue. Finally, it begins to tear. Gaping holes appear all over the body. The poor victim dies a terribly painful death, which even our strongest drugs seem only to ease a little.

James Herbert, The Rats

I first read that crouched on the floor of Dillon’s Books, after school in the horror section. They let you read for free as long as you bought something once in a while, and you bet I bought The Rats. I can’t remember if the mechanism of the illness was explained, or whether it was bacterial or viral, but I never forgot what it did. I have some vague memory of it being jumped-up leptospirosis, but that might’ve been my own conjecture. It’s been thirty years since I read The Rats—thirty years, but all I had to do to find the passage I wanted was get a PDF of the book and search for “then, the most horrible thing happens.” Because it was the most horrible thing, and that’s not something you forget in a hurry, or maybe ever.

It’s not so hard to do an epidemic. Just, you’ve got to be able to describe it in one sentence, and that sentence should be gruesome.

It’s norovirus, but your entire stomach lining sloughs off, and you digest yourself from the inside out, and maybe your teeth fall out, ’cause why not?

It’s dementia, but it only takes a few hours: you go to work fine and burn the place down at lunch.

It’s the flesh eating disease, but it goes for your cervical vertebrae and the surrounding soft tissue. They pick up your corpse and your head hits the floor.

I think I’ve mentioned that one before. I like it, though. It’s extra-sloppygross. Just picture it—you’ve got a headache, bit of nausea. You think it’s the flu. Six hours later, you’re locked in your skull, decapitated on the inside. An hour after that, you’re doing your best Marie Antoinette impression, and your family’s like ew, Uncle Joe!

Sorry. Too much?

It’s rabies, but it takes twenty years. You get sick and violent, both at once, and your family’s torn between caring for you and chucking you out the door. You have moments of lucidity, where their pain becomes yours…you worthless bag of shit.

(Yeah. That was more than one sentence.)

You develop allergies upon allergies, one after another, till you can’t touch anything, eat anything, breathe anything, and

—oh. I think that might be real. I think I once read about it, or knew someone, heard of someone…. Still, it sounds dreadful. I hope I don’t get it. I hope I haven’t already. But I wasn’t allergic to milk, and now it makes me sick. Everything gives me heartburn. Is this the end?

That’s the other thing I hate about v-pocalypse books: they make me paranoid as fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

6 thoughts on “Apocalypse No

  1. Lol! I think it’s safe to say that you’re not dying from an apocalyptic virus 😀

    A very interesting post actually, and having read your comment on FB I can see where it came from. I can totally understand where you’re coming from – I hate the science crap that makes no sense as well, either make it real, or completely stupid!

    The other one of course is were they completely ignore it. Dude wakes up one morning to find the rest of the Earth’s population is dead and the viewer gets noooo explanation. I’ve seen a few ‘survivor’ programs like that over the years.

    And don’t get me started on ‘Reign of fire’ 😀


    1. I think the unexplained apocalypse only works for very short stories. For example, there was a superhero comic called “Concrete” that used to have a regular feature at the end of each issue, “1,000 Little Horrors,” or something. Each one was a “Tales from the Crypt”-style vignette, maybe a page or two long. I remember one where everyone on Earth was mysteriously paralysed, conscious but locked into their bodies. A man woke up to discover himself in that state, and you got a few panels of dawning understanding, where he heard chaos outside and understood what was happening—then, for the punchline, he heard a fire alarm start up nearby. For that one page, it was scary. For 300 pages, nah. Wouldn’t hold.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yeah I agree – it wouldn’t and it didn’t. I forget what the programmes were now – but sufficed to say I didn’t finish watching them.

        I’ve never read ‘The Stand’, but now I know only to read the first part 😀


        1. Honestly, the whole thing’s fun to read, but the second half’ll have you rolling your eyes. It starts out with the flu epidemic, and the survivors seeking safety, and that part is brilliant. But then, it turns into a struggle between good and evil, represented by a, uh, racially uncomfortable depiction of a saintly old black woman on God’s side, then the devil on his own side, and King writes himself into a corner. He ends up having the hand of God blow up the baddies with a nuclear bomb, like…whaaaaat?

          It has all Stephen King’s worst tropes packed into one: the minority-character-as-sacrificial-lamb (times two–there’s the saintly black lady AND a deaf man who takes one for the team!), the mental-disability-as-superpower, the lame afterthought ending, and the ultimate deus ex machina. It’s basically a mess from the midpoint on.

          Liked by 1 person

            1. A bit, yeah. But it does have one redeeming quality. Most of the characters have satisfying arcs, independent of the stupid ending. For that reason, and pretty much ONLY that reason, “The Stand” still reads like one book. You just have to sort of…read around the cringey bits.


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