“What the hell am I supposed to do with those?” I said, glaring at the frilly pink socks dangling between Hummer’s pincers. “I’m twenty-two, not two.”
He grunted and tossed them over his armor-plated shoulder.
“Just stick to looking for band aids,” I said, and carried on riffling through the racks. “Or even better, try and root out some shower gel. You stink worse than these rotten rags on my feet. Damn this war, and damn you and the rest of those… cockroaches!”
With a swipe of a claw, he smashed the contents of the shelf he’d been picking through to the floor.
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Posted in Featured Fiction
A high-pitched shriek echoed off the canyon walls.
“Relax, honey. It’s just a spider.” John brushed the offending creature off his wife’s neck. “Must have dropped down from the trees.” He laughed at her, and she hit him in the arm.
“It’s not funny!” When he continued to laugh, Andrea stepped from under the overhanging branches and onto the sunny dirt path, dumping her backpack on the ground. “I want to stop,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Just a couple more miles to the--” He intercepted her glare. “Me too,” he corrected himself. “Starving.”