Path of the Fallen Episode One The Watchtower by Colin Moore

Introductory comment by Chris

If you want to hear Dawn of the Dog from the beginning, go to:

oldmanapocalypse.com/dog

Join the Pack and you’ll get access to the whole series as it rolls out

...

Colin Moore has been building out a story called Path of the Fallen, and I think you’re going to like this one.

We’re generations past the Fall. A small settlement on the Australian Gold Coast is hanging on against airborne raiders called Harvesters. Outside the walls are these strange old burial mounds that everybody knows enough to stay away from.

And then, one afternoon, a man walks out of them.

The problem is, everybody knows him.

And he’s been dead for three years.

This is Episode One: The Watchtower.

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OK, my survivor friends, as promised I have news. My summer has been jam-packed. This month has been even jam-packier.

Let’s talk about Pat’s story contest story we just listened to. Again, 900 words isn’t a lot to play with and I think he did a good job building a story arc into that space. It’s got a beginning, middle and end. There are clear stakes and a complete character arc. I could see this story as a ClarkesWorld or Dust or Escape Pod offering. 

More to come - We both just submitted stories for the summer contest. 

The second book of the After the Apocalypse 5 novel series is finished and shipped and available anywhere you buy books. So go get it. Read it. Tell your friends. Leave a review. Let the world know that this is a great series and they won’t regret engaging.

But, wait! That’s not all. I also built a commercial proposal in July and submitted it to publisher. The process helped me organize my thoughts and content in a form that I can reuse. So that was cool. Let me know if you’re interested in seeing the proposal. It took me most of July to get the proposal prepared.

But, one of the things they ask for is comparison books. Basically what are other book that have been published recently that are representative of how your book might be seen in the market and how did they perform. 

My knee jerk reaction was to reach for famous apocalyptic books, like The Stand, or The Road, or The Earth Abides, or The Dog Stars. But I felt like this was lazy and not a true comparison. So, I researched more contemporary post-apocalyptic fiction and found three that I’ll share with you.

I listened to them all on audio, because I had a deadline. All of them were available through my library on the Hoopla app. So, my friends, if you love listening to post-apocalyptic fiction, get yourself a library card and use their app to get your fill of free, high-quality fiction. 

The first book was A Beginning at the End by Mike Chen. It’s a post-apocalyptic family drama based in current day San Francisco Area. It was ok, but a bit soap opera with a wimpy main male character. 

The second book was Moon of the running leaves by Waubgeshig Rice. It is written in the POV of a First Nations people in Canada searching for a new home after some sort vague systems collapse ends civilization and government. I really liked this book.  Especially the audio version. It has a lyrical cadence to it. It is beautifully written.

The third was The Light Pirate by Lily Brooks-Dalton. I think this was the best constructed of the three. The opening chapter builds characters and stakes so well and then grabs you by the throat. The stakes are high. The story is set in a rapidly devolving Florida. The environment is reclaiming the lands. Government is failing. Humanity and our protagonists learn to adapt and evolve. 

These are all worth listening to. They are all deeper than just chase scenes and explosions. 

And now we stumble into August and I’m turning my attention to several other projects. Including helping listener Colin create a 3-episode Australian apocalypse arc that we’ll start releasing in August.

And Mike Darling from the Apocalypse Post wants to collaborate on a story. 

Anyhoo – go leave a comment on the podcast in whatever pod-catcher you’re using – give Pat and Virginia some feedback. You can always poke me on the After the Apocalypse Facebook page, and if any of this patter hits you in such a way that you want to talk to me directly, just send me an email at cyktrussell at Gmail.

But, before you do that, get my 2nd book, read it and leave a review. 

And pull your face out of the cloying, fetid mud and gaze hopefully at the burning clouds and acid flashes of lightning. Hold your gaze. 

And keep surviving. 

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In this episode we have a short story written by Chris for the spring short story contest read into Audio by Virginia Pittman. Following the story (about 10 minutes in) Chris and Virginia have a nice chat about it.

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Hello my survivor friends. Today I am pleased to bring you a great short story written and read by Sharon Skinner my book coach.

You can find out all about her here -> https://bookcoachingbysharon.com/

Look for the second book in the After the Apocalypse series 'Book Two: Killer' in June.

And Keep Surviving!

Chris,

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Hello my survivor Friends,

It is May 1st 2026 for you time travelers. And what you just listened to was a resolution chapter I wrote for Book 2, which I have been working hard on for the last 2 months. As of this reading Book is very close to publishing, but everything takes longer than you think it should in the publishing world.  

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“In great loss there is often the freedom of discovery.” - Isherwood Williams

…

It was midmorning on a rainy day when the traveler knocked open the door of the Siren Café. A few months had passed since Delores joined Jolene at the store. A few months since they’d cleaned out all the corpses and moved on with the basic, hard business of surviving. 

Jolene had stopped pretending to run the store as if nothing had happened. She’d come to grips with the loss. Even so, the Café was still her locus of gravity in the apocalypse, and she and Delores showed up each day and swept the sidewalks.

They needed something to do and minding the Café was as good as anything else in the apocalypse. So, as supplies dwindled and weeks passed, they showed up every day and did what they could for the occasional survivors who stumbled in for the small number of survivors who stumbled in.

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“What do you need me to do?” Delores asked. 

Jolene had provided Delores with a company-logo green sports shirt. Unisex. Small. And a fresh visor with the mermaid logo from the supply cabinet.  And, finally, the ubiquitous green apron, which was the most identifiable part of the café uniform. You could be missing all the other bits, but if you had that apron, everyone knew you were there to make drinks and wait on customers. 

Jolene wore it like a magic cape, like a standard of power and belonging. Now she tied the strings of strength around Delores, stood back and appraised.  

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The Café door chime sang its song of arrivals.

Jolene watched a woman enter the café.  

The woman was furtive but otherwise unremarkable. She stayed close to the door, seemingly unsure whether her decision to enter was a good one, and, at any moment, might turn and flee back to the anonymous safety of the apocalyptic street beyond. 

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Intro – The apocalypse Café

Hello my survivor friends. Today we are presenting a story called ‘The apocalypse Café’ written by yours truly and read by our old friend Robert. You’re going to get all sentimental hearing it I’m sure.

The story is set in the same universe as the original After the Apocalypse series, but this is a standalone storyline with new characters. 

I expect to do three of these.

I gave myself a little more rope than usual so this story reads out to around 30 minutes.

I’ll come back after with some brief comments,

Enjoy, 

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The sun was quickly disappearing behind me as I stood in front of my cabin in southern Iowa, watching as a brand new, silver ‘65 Cadillac rocketed down the long dirt driveway, spreading a fine layer of dust on the prematurely rotting pumpkin patches on both sides. The car eventually slid to a stop a stone's throw from my front porch, and out of it stepped a smartly dressed man in his late 40's. Lean and tan, with close cropped salt-and-pepper hair, he was the picture of health and vibrance that often goes hand in hand with wealth. It was in stark contrast to myself, despite being five years his junior. I was too thin. Malnourished, maybe. Anemic, for sure, and the limp I had moved with for most of my life had only gotten worse as hard work on the farm had begun to take its toll on my body. How old was I now? Forty-five? Six, maybe? It may as well have been a hundred.

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