Momma homeschooled. I’d kneel in the back seat of our Buick on a carpet of fast food wrappers counting the contents of the trunk. This was Momma’s version of education, having me remind her what we had in our stolen… Continue Reading
Sensei Kove filled the west wall of his dojo with photographs of the families of the people he had killed. When he taught, he stood in front of this gallery. This forced us would-be-assassins to practice under their accusing eyes.… Continue Reading
This morning I scrubbed the apartment more thoroughly than was necessary considering I’d declined all visitors, both the well- and ill-wishing kind. I ignored the phone. The battery will be dead in a few hours and I’m considering letting it… Continue Reading
My phone rings as I walk into my company’s lobby from the staff parking garage. Probably Dan Simmons. I’m late for our meeting because a disheveled man accosted me as I got out of my car, shouting gibberish and blocking… Continue Reading
He was disconnected, cut adrift, left alone, lost, all of this happening so quickly he was not even frightened at first. He heard the motors spooling up, rising to a shriek, and arcs of electricity erupted from the machine behind… Continue Reading
Before the two of them had sipped their drinks, the old landline rang in the other room. Father Collins put his mug down. He excused himself and limped away. While Father was tending to church business, Mrs. Harding reached into… Continue Reading
My world is a gun pressed against my forehead. The pressure is committed, lethal. My reality is details: Nickel plated precision cocooned by knuckles tattooed with H A T E. A bare arm with ropey muscles writhing under tattoos and… Continue Reading
Thunder rumbled overhead as Beaumont Whitley sat reclined in his chair, enjoying a pipe and a good book. Glancing up, he noticed a shadowed figure creep past the window. Beaumont closed the novel and set his Meerschaum aside. Would it… Continue Reading
Four is the number of gunmen who enter the library where she’s taken her son for story time. Four is the age of her son, who will soon be five, if he lives through this day. Four is the number… Continue Reading
“Sorry, buddy,” said a gray-haired man in a suit, bumping me as he tried to reach the bar. “Fridays are always crowded here. Everybody ducks out of work early for a pint before they head home.” He noticed that he’d… Continue Reading