This was a good solid pulp story. Well-written, well-paced, well-read (although occasionally, when not doing an accent, the narrator had, perhaps, just a bit too much of a theatrical delivery to the lines, usually a deadpan, gravelly inflection at the end that implied "I'm reading in scary voice"). Special kudos for the "crawling through pitch darkness in a mine, followed by zombies" moment and the nicely handled ending.
If Pseudopod continued to 'cast stories of this quality, I wouldn't find myself so endlessly frustrated with the story choices and quality and wondering whether I should keep donating. More steps in the direction of "Carbon County" would help.
Minor criticism - in the end, the story is a typical zombie story (Romero style) that gains its interest from the setting and not the content. Nothing happens in it that is anything more than what you get in any average Romero-derived Zombie story. More should have been made of the grinding, hopeless lives of the miners, the slave-level existence they lived and how that resonates with the zombies later. That would also have been the opportunity to actually bring in the Molly Maquire aspect and not just use it as a story trinket, a throwaway of interesting historical detail that provides flash and variation but little substance (still it was appreciated, as my Irish family roots in the US start in that exact area of Pennsylvania and possibly have ties to the Molly Maquires).
Compare and contrast to something like Mort Castle's "The Old Man And The Dead" which uses a historical setting and zombies as well, but unfolds it into an examination of Ernest Hemingway and the destructive aspects of machismo. Not that I wanted a zombie version of a John O'Hara (born in Pottsville, PA - a location tied to the Molly Maquires) but the responsibility of the writer is to give the reader something more than what they're used to, and that means more than finding a different setting.
But, as I was reminded in an email from the editor, this is intended as pulp. And as pulp, this was quite good.
Thanks for listening
“I am alone on this road strewn with bones and bordered by ruins! Angels have their brothers, and demons have their infernal companions. Yet I have but the sound of my scythe when it harvests, my whistling arrows, my galloping horse. Always the sound of the same wave eating away at the world.”
Gustave Flaubert, “Dance of the Dead”