Days of Love and Blood

strained and laborious. I said nothing. I didn’t want him to think I was worried.
    It was a mistake. We didn’t need supplies. We only wanted to find survivors and hear news but were caught unawares. We walked out onto the main road and peered through darkened windows. It was only then that we noticed the group of homicidals, and they noticed us. They looked like regular people. We waved to them and walked closer. We stopped when they shrieked and ran toward us.
    He could always run faster than me but even with Ronan in my arms, he lagged far behind. I slowed to keep his pace. We entered the treacherous field and saw the shed in the near distance.
    “Just keep running, Car. The gun is in the shed. We’ll be okay.”
    I didn’t say anything. I just kept running. Ronan was crying. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to my baby. I picked up my legs and felt them burn as I trudged through the frozen field, running harder than I ever had before in my life. I was almost to the shed when I heard my Ritchie call out. I turned, and they already had him. He called to me, told me what to do. He screamed again when they brought down their weapons upon him.
    My world left me at that moment. My love - my everything - was murdered before my eyes and I could do nothing. Nothing but save Ronan, his only child. And I did that. I did not betray his last wish.
    I ran into the shed, locked the door and put Ronan down. He screamed for his father. I screamed in anguish. I had to ignore Ronan and look for the one real weapon we had. A gun. I found it in the metal lockbox and looked through the peephole above the scaffolding. The group of homicidals was closing in on us. I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. Nothing. I tried again - nothing. It didn’t work. I didn’t have time to figure out why. I didn’t know anything about guns.
    I jumped down from the platform and put Ronan into a small cabinet under the sink. I picked up the first weapon I saw - a rusty scythe which hung from the rafters.
    “We’ll be okay, honey,” I cried to my son. Then I ran outside to meet my husband’s killers.
    My memories of that night ceased when an orange light flickered on the dashboard. Low fuel. I knew this was coming but the darkness made it difficult to find a solution. I veered to the right and waited for the first small road to present itself while carefully navigating the soft curb.

The Need For Murder
    “Are we still on for tonight?”
    I had actually considered cancelling my date with Ritchie. I didn’t know him very well and the thought of expressing forced interest in boring first-date prattle felt loathsome and tedious. I was already exhausted from a week consisting of three all-nighters to finish two term papers; an impressive undertaking by my own standards and the culmination of a semester’s worth of procrastination. My brain needed a break. I just wanted to curl up under a big blanket, melt into my pillows and watch Battlestar Galactica reruns.
    “Centennial Steam Machine is playing at Oldman’s. I think we should check it out.”
    His new tex t popped into my phone before I could reply to the first one. At least he wasn’t trying to impress me by opting for a foreign film or chick flick. He surprised me by suggesting something he wanted to watch. I was pretty sure he knew I would too. I could always go for a little steampunk.
    “Sur e,” I replied. “Pick me up at seven. Can’t wait.”
    That last fragment might not have been entirely true. I hated first dates. They felt like a chore. You could never truly be yourself on a first date. It was all a façade - from the trite conversations to the fake smiles. Still, there was something about Ritchie that made me think twice. I’d only met him a handful of times at gatherings between mutual friends. He was confident and playful and we both liked the same science-fiction TV shows and books. He was also extremely attractive which didn’t hurt.
    I guess it would b e nice to talk to someone. I’d been alone for far too long. I looked at the empty pints of chocolate fudge ice cream on my cluttered desk, evidence of my need to get out of the dorm. I threw them in the trash and rummaged through the closet to pull my little black dress out of hiding.

    If there were any homicidals in the area, they would be making their way toward our camper as soon as I stopped. I would have to act fast.
    T he distinct green rectangle for some unknown side road suddenly appeared out of