David watched from behind the crowd, as two men led a young woman up a small set of steps to the hangman’s noose. A razor-sharp wire replaced the traditional rope, ensuring a clean decapitation and a bigger spectacle of blood and death.
Read MoreCity of Refuge
To tell you the truth, my father wasn’t really that much different after he became a zombie.
Read MoreThe Days of Flaming MotorcyclesWhen Benjamin was a little boy he painted things. Mostly small things. Like tiny houses. Or dinosaur kits. Or invisible men. He liked using the small brushes. Painting tiny, intricate details.
Read MoreThe Last Stand of the Ant Maker“Do you think Shawn’ll be gone for much longer?” Chris poked at the campfire with a stick, watching the sparks dance above the flames.
Read MoreSnipe HuntingI showed up at the 49th Street Annex prepared to take a verbal beating from Klein and the rest of the Weekday Obsessives—they go after relapses like dogs on dead pheasant. Normally, after I screwed up, it’d take the group a few sessions to figure it out, but this time I couldn’t hide what I’d done. There was no way.
Read MoreSeafoamBridget ducked behind the remains of a burned-out Impala, crouching low as the zap-zap-zap of blaster fire split the October night. The sound was already familiar enough to turn her stomach. Not just because it meant another survivor had been spotted—because there was nothing she could do to help whoever it was.
Read MoreDying with Her Cheer Pants OnMaxwell Sanders pressed the phone closer to his ear as if that would somehow bring comprehension. “Did you say trolls?”
“Yes, Max.” With her words, he could picture Amalia’s rigid posture.
He ran a hand over his scalp. “I can’t redo the aluminum plant blueprints because your foreman believes in fairytales.”
Read MoreHorizontal RainLifting the stopper from the vial to his nose, Penn inhaled slowly. Against the neutral backdrop of his ship’s cleanroom, he picked out aromas of quince, elderberry, and bright Martian soil that hinted of blood, with undercurrents of cinnamon and Zeta Epsilon’s fragrantly sweet longgrass.
Read MoreScenting the DarkLena rocked back and forth, feet aching from standing so long, as if the metal floors were harder in the auditorium than anywhere else in the ship. The paper bib she wore rustled as she shifted. The waiting that the high-holy put the prospectives through made Lena nervous.
Read MoreBeyond the Garden Close