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She was still coughing when she walked back into the grocery store. She took careful steps out of the darkness and into the fluorescent lights. Her expression was worried, but her body language said otherwise. There was a scratch under her eye and blood on her lip, but she didn't seem to notice. Everyone else did though. The few employees left in the store noticed that she should have been long gone by now. When they saw the blood they could only scratch their heads and gasp. She stopped at the water fountain, but she didn't take a drink, or wipe the blood from her lip, or even lean against it to catch her breath. No one approached her, may

III. "I need you to relax. It'll be much easier this way." Beth could hardly move. Even if she had not been strapped down, she was too drained to do much more than keep her eyes open. That did not stop her from tensing up whenever he came near her. "Just a few more days," he said as he wiped the skin of her arm clean. "Then you'll go back home, and this will be nothing more than a nightmare." Beth's lazy gaze narrowed. "I've performed this procedure countless times. It's perfectly safe." He paused. "It is ashame what happened to your hair... unexpected." He stuck a needle in Beth's arm, but she no longer flinched at the pinch. "You'll be

II. Frank Theskla may have been the most distraught person in the emergency room. His legs jumped while he attempted to sit calmly in a chair. He received the call only ten minutes before, and made the twenty minute drive to the hospital in record time. Supposedly, his niece was somewhere in that hospital. She had arrived five days after she had gone missing. The past few days were the worst of his life. They were even worse than when his sister hat gotten in that accident with her husband, and left Beth in his care. Another day and he might have lost his mind; he was almost happy that she was in the hospital. A man dressed in a spotless w

I. Darkness smothered Beth. She lay semi-conscious, her back against a cold, flat surface. Wherever she was, it was so dark it pressed against her. Beth's eyes rolled back and forth, but she saw nothing. She drifted back into unconsciousness before anything happened. When Beth opened her eyes again, she was still dazed. It was brighter where she was, but it was still dim enough to hide the details. With the little sense she had left, she tried to move. She couldn't. Beth tried to movie her arms from her side, but they didn't budge. Her legs were dead weight. It took a great deal of strength to try even to move, but something held her limbs

She is staring at me with fear in her eyes. She is eying me up and down. The look in her eyes changes from fear to scrutiny. I match her gaze with an equally vicious one. How can she act this way? She stares at me through the window like it is a shame to be in the same place together. She stares at me like everything is wrong with me. She has no reason though. She is no better. I look at her and I see her flaws. Her skin has no glow, no smooth complexion, only bumps and blotches spattering her face. Her nose is large and flares at the nostrils. Her lips are dry and chapped. Her eyes -- well now those are a nice feature. They are a rather du

Writer Renegade Killjoys! Hold onto hope that you will succeed. There will be casualties, but it should be color that stands up in the end. The city runs deep and the problems exist far. Draw your lines in color. You know where that comes from. The heat was bearable. I was armed, not with a ray gun, but with a pen and paper. The city was days away by foot, but that's where I was headed. I had written down enough suppressed memories to write a novel. I had remembered enough to last me a year. I had Dr. Death Defying and his Killjoys to thank for that. I pulled my bandana up around my face and lowered my sunglasses. I was only just getting

The sun had barely come up when I was dragged out of the diner and towards a Trans Am. "Explain!" I nearly shouted as I was shoved into the backseat. "Too many Drac's out on the edge of the zone. Can't take the risk." "You know how to shoot, right?" Kobra Kid asked. He handed me my orange ray gun. "Never though I'd see this again." "Right now, we need your help." Party Poison took the wheel and speed off, taking sharp turns and kicking dust into the air. "Don't shoot unless we say to," Fun Ghoul instructed. "But we probably will." Party Poison hit the brakes hard. We then walked a little way to a clearing where at least ten Draculoids

The first thing I noticed was the stale stench in my nose. Dirty laundry and disinfectant only begins to describe the smell. Then I noticed the weight of the air on me and how it was cooler than it should have been. I was baking in the sun. I had to be. I collapsed by the side of a deserted road. I was dead. I was not getting up to stumble around, sick, hot, and tired. But none of that was true. It was warm, yes. The air was thick with heat, but it wasn't beating down on me, only sitting on top of me. My interest was piqued. I opened my eyes. I wasn't lying beside the road. I was lying on the floor of a dirty bathroom. I did not react rig

I kept running over that final sunset in my head. The sun dipped below the horizon–a bloody red–and cast a warm glow onto the outside of the shack. I was seating on the ground, leaned against the side of the building, watching the dust fly up in the wind. Clutch leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. After a long silence I asked what his plans were. "Same as before." It had become clear that with my impending departure, Clutch was slipping back into the personality of the nameless character that found me days earlier. He was vague, like he didn't trust me. "Surveillance and survival?" I guessed. Clutch said nothing, b

We did not leave right away. In fact we stayed in the shack for days. We ignored my writing fit and the text that came out of it. The group was mostly silent–just preparing. Then one day, Clutch took my by the arm and pulled me outside. "You've never fired a gun before." By now I realized Clutch had a habit of saying his questions rather than asking them. "Do I need to?" "We're not going to protect you," he said. I rolled my eyes, but before I could say anything, Clutch added, "We protect ourselves out there. You need to do just that." I followed Clutch a good twenty or thirty yards, and then he handed me a brown-leather holster. "S