What Howls In Vegas
“I can still win this,” Rachel said, spitting blood out with her words. “I’ve taken on worse and lived.”
Everyone I Could Have Been
Jordan’s eyes widened when she caught sight of Marco as she approached the parked RV. “Wow,” she said. Her eyes combed him over again. “I mean… Uh… Wow.”
Marco frowned. “You’re no peach yourself. Think you could turn the light of the praises of the lord down a smidge?” he asked from where he sat, leaning against a rotten old picnic table.
Jordan smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, no. I don’t think so.”
Cassie climbed out of the RV and smiled weakly. There were bloodstains on her shirt. “Hi, Jordan. How’d your end go?”
She shrugged. “Sandalfon ditched me temporarily and bore his full self down on David.”
Marco sat forward. “Isn’t that basically the equivalent of dropping a nuclear bomb on him?”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why it was saved for last.”
Cassie hugged her arms around her abdomen. “So, then, that means that he…”
“He survived. His host didn’t. Nor George’s pick up. Nor the road or local environment. But he did.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Cassie said, sitting on the RV’s doorstep.
Happy New Year
Don’t let them tell you hell is hot. Hell is a lot of things. Currently, it’s nothing at all.
Marco races along paths that don’t exist, his feet pounding against nothing. His lungs burn with hard breaths of empty air. His muscles burn with the strain of pushing through nothing. His mind burns with the strain of willing himself into existence.
The nothing threatens to swallow him whole.