Cassie paced back and forth, sick to her stomach.  The phones were down, and though she still had electricity and Internet, she had not been able to reach any family or friends in days.  The news sites were overrun with stories and videos of attacks.  No city had been spared, as people tried to run and only succeeded infecting the innocent for hundreds of miles.
     She had left campus when she heard the first reports that made it sound like an infection was taking place.  She still remembered calling home, and talking to her mother about what to do.  The conversation was burned into her mind, it was the last time they spoke.
     "Don't come here," she had told Cassie in a quiet voice.  "Your dad is worried sick about you, but they already have police and army driving up and down the streets, enforcing a curfew and shooting anyone who doesn't obey.  You're safer where you are, I promise."  Cassie heard her choke back as sob, and felt her eyes prickle with tears.
     "Are you guys okay?  What about Sammy?"  Her little brother had just finished another round of chemotherapy, and she knew how much it wiped him out.  Sammy was only ten years old, but he had known nothing but hospitals and sickness.  She often felt guilty about going away to college, but her relief at growing and moving on was intoxicating, it had kept her loving her family but learning to be her own person.  Now though, as everything seemed to be crumbling around them, she felt no stronger or wiser than her little brother.
     Her mother said the usual, that Sammy was fine.  Cassie knew she said this no matter what to satisfy her conscience.  This time, she let it go.  They talked for a few more minutes, and made arrangements to keep in touch should the phones fail.
     The problem was, there were no email replies or text messages.  Her family had dropped off the radar, and Cassie was worried.  Sammy was so little, what if they had been forced to try to leave with him?  Cassie knew the answer.  They couldn't, and they wouldn't.  For better or worse, her parents would stay at their house, where they had some medicine and supplies for their critically ill son.
     As Cassie walked to and from, holding her stomach and afraid for her life, she came to a realization.  All bets were off.  There was no safety, no knight in shining armor, and nobody to depend on but herself.  She was alone, and she didn't want to be.  She wanted her parents, her brother, her home.  And then it was suddenly so clear, that was where she wanted to be.  It was only a ninety minute drive, most of it on rural highways.  She could be there well before dark if she took off now.
     Feeling better just for having a plan, she packed a quick bag and said a prayer.  She still had a full tank of gas and plenty of daylight.
 

     Rev stood in the rain, with a bible in one hand and a handkerchief in the other.  He was in his element, and had worked the crowd into a fine frenzy.  The old people were the best, because they threw the most money and because they gave him credibility in the crowd.  It was hard to wonder about someone when a roomful of grandparents were smiling and nodding their approval.
     "Death is everywhere around us!"  He was dancing now, bobbing and weaving on the grass, doing a shuck and jive that punctuated his sentences, and gave rhythm to his speech.  "Just look, and try to tell me God hasn't sent his punishment!  Tell me that the world is going to survive a plague never before seen on the skin of this planet, survive without the intervention of Jesus Christ!"
     While he was moving around, he saw two people leave, slinking off like little cowards who couldn't handle the truth.  As they faded out, they were replaced by a small family, dirty and scared.   Their numbers were still growing, and the more people watched the news, the more they would come looking for answers.  The more they would need him, want his comforting stories, and the more money and power they would give for what they wanted.
     They were on the edge of town, in a gas station parking lot.  Rev had stopped here to fill the Jeep he just bought.  He'd cleaned up his car and disposed of it, and was giddy with relief when this outbreak had taken over the news.  "Dead woman found in woods" had scrolled across the bottom of the television screen, and his heart had stopped.  He couldn't have imagined that two women were dumped that day, but it appeared that is exactly what happened.  He watched intently, and when it became clear it wasn't his girl they found, let loose a sigh of relief and passed out on the couch after his nerves unloaded all the tension of the last two days.  He had slept so hard his body hurt upon waking, stiff from not moving.
     These people were fleeing town as the sick started to appear everywhere.  Where they thought they were running to, nobody was able to say.  There were sick and dying appearing randomly, in a pattern so complicated it would be impossible to break down.  Still, the instinct to flee was overpowering, and those who were not making a stand in their homes were on the move.  Rev had found the perfect recruiting grounds, completely by accident.
     "Come back to God's house with me," he said gently, making them lean in to hear him.  "In His house, there is plenty of food.  In His sanctuary, we can take time to thank Him for our blessings and ask for His direction.  We will be safe, and we will be comfortable.  Those who want to follow me, I'll give us ten minutes to get ready, and you can follow me two blocks north, and one block to the right, to the rock church on the corner."  And just like that, he had another group, one with much more passion than the bored and stubborn regulars who had slogged through every Sunday out of habit.  These people were fired up, they were ready to follow, and they were all won over by promise of creature comforts.
     Maybe he had just found a reason to stick around town, after all.

“I need a fucking doctor!” Adam burst into HCMC, almost out of his mind from the pain. He was clutching his empty eye socket as he stumbled around the waiting room. He didn’t notice that everyone in the place was staring at him, nor would he have cared if he had.

“Sir, if you could just calm down-” A weary-looking nurse stepped towards Adam, but he didn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Calm down? Some fucker yanked out my motherfucking eyeball, and you want me to calm the fuck down?” Adam grabbed the nurse by the shoulders and shook her, rage and pain coursing through his body. His empty eye socket pulsed with an ever-increasing intensity, and he tightened his grip on the nurse. He sank his fingers into her shoulders, and the buzzing in his ears became a dull roar. He literally saw red as he wrenched the nurse’s arm out of her socket, and he was oblivious to the screams that saturated the air in response. He started twisting the nurse’s other arm, eliciting another high-pitched squeal from her.

“Sir, take your hands off Nurse Richards.” A burly security guard stepped to Adam, his hand on the butt of his gun. The guard’s eyes were alert as he kept them trained on Adam. “Why don’t we-” Before he could finish his sentence, Adam pushed Nurse Richards so she went flying and bum-rushed the guard. With a roar, he picked up the two-hundred plus man and tossed him across the lobby as if the latter were merely a paper doll.

“I need a motherfucking doctor!” Adam screamed at the top of his lungs, both hands clawing at his empty eye socket. People in the lobby scrambled for their cellphones while keeping an eye on the crazy man. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The rage in Adam surged as he stumbled into a hapless woman jabbering on her cell to 911. “Get the fuck out of my way!” Adam grabbed the woman and slammed her into a nearby wall, causing her to lose her grip on her cellphone. “Why is it you goddamn cunts always have to get in my fucking way?!” Adam clawed the woman’s face, trying to gouge out her eyes.

“Please, please, please,” the woman blubbered, her hands flying up in front of her eyes. Her toddler boy shrieked and cowered behind his mama, only to be suddenly bereft when she pushed him away. She was clearly trying to protect him, but the toddler didn’t realize it and burst into loud sobs.

“Mama!” The boy wailed at the top of his lungs. Another woman who resembled the first snatched the boy and started running as fast as she could, casting agonized glances back over her shoulder at the first woman.

Adam grunted as the buzz in his ears grew louder. He kept clawing at the woman’s face with ever-increasing speed. He ripped off her nose and her top lip in his fury and showed no signs of slowing down. The pain in his eye socket had receded to a dull ache, but the desire to attack grew with every swipe. The woman’s face was a pulpy mess as Adam plucked her dangling eyeball and gulped it down. Instead of slaking his bloodlust, it only served to amp him up even further. He began ripping at the woman’s body – her shoulders, her breasts, her thighs – not caring where his blows fell.

Suddenly, Adam stiffened as bullets riddled his back. He didn’t let go of his victim, however, but started gnawing on her shoulder as the security guard, battered and bruised, continued to pump bullets into Adam. Adam let out an inhuman howl and turned toward the guard, murder in his eye. The guard quickly reloaded his Glock, stood his ground, and fired rapidly and continuously into Adam's chest and torso. Adam bore down on the guard, quickly closing the gap between them. Just as Adam’s fingers closed around the guard’s neck to throttle him and just as the guard ran out of bullets from his second mag, Adam collapsed to the ground, cursing as he fell. Once he hit the ground, however, he was finally silent.

     Jillian was exhausted, and scared.  She had worked as a nurse for seventeen years, and she had never seen anything like what she witnessed tonight.  They had followed the news at Heatherford Memorial, but the small hospital had been miles from the cases that were grabbing headlines.  Then tonight, they had treated their first case.
     A man came in with a bite on his arm, with a police officer escort.  The man's wife had killed their daughter and nearly taken him out as well.  Purely in self-defense he had killed her.  The police were overwhelmed with situations like this, but in Howell county, this was the first.  The man was upset, with tear tracks on his cheeks.  He held his arm close to his chest, and Jillian could see blood oozing out from the gauze he held clamped to the wound.
     Throughout the short physical, she could see his mental ability deteriorating.  His blood pressure was frighteningly low, and his skin was cool and clammy to the touch.  His motor skills were declining, and he stopped responding to questions.  She stepped out of the room to get Dr. Hamilton's attention and the patient passed out.  Twenty minutes later, his heart stopped.  After efforts to resuscitate him failed, they pronounced him dead.  Despite being the only medical center to serve several rural communities, it had been over two years since she had personally lost a patient.  She looked at the man's face, which still held traces of the misery that broke his heart before it quit beating altogether.  Despite her training, she felt the sting of tears prick her eyes.  An entire family had been wiped out this evening, without reason.
     Because he did not have a fever or excessive bleeding, Dr. Hamilton said he didn't believe this was directly related to the epidemic on the news, and that there was no need to monitor or restrain the corpse, which was what healthcare professionals were instructed to do.  Jillian started to speak up, but decided Dr. Hamilton was an ass, but a smart man.  There might be something he knew that she didn't, and her shift ended in ten minutes.  She finished noting the charts and handed off the keys to the next nurse on duty.  Tired to the bone, she shuffled towards her car and decided comfort food and mindless TV was just what she needed.
     The rural highway was just two narrow lanes, and the lighting was poor.  The woman had stumbled into the road and the path of the headlights before Jillian saw her.  Time stopped, and the universe itself seemed to pause for just a heartbeat.  Jillian slammed her foot on the brake, and stared at the woman's face.  There was no trace of fear, just slack facial muscles and a gaping mouth.  The woman made no attempt to get out of the way.  In fact, she reached for the car and took another tottering step towards her.  It's the lights, she thought to herself.  I don't know why, but she's attracted to the goddamn lights.  Then the car struck her, and time began to march forward, this time crazy fast.
     She wasn't aware of stopping the car, or putting it into park.   She just remembered throwing the door open and running back to check on the woman, who was now lying on the pavement, her leg visibly shattered, and her neck likely broken, given the unnatural angle of her neck.  The woman struggled to sit up, and her broken body refused.  She finally moved her head around, and fixed Jillian with a chilling glare.  She snarled and reached for her, but her broken bones were incapable of supporting her.  Instead, she twitched and flopped, but was unable to move.
     Jillian started to reach for her to help, but the woman was in such terrible shape she knew there was no way she could survive.  She grabbed her phone and dialed 911, and while she was describing the details to the operator she noticed there was no blood.  The lighting was terrible, but as her eyes adjusted she noticed the woman's midsection was obliterated.  She had to be dead, and yet she wasn't.  The entire time she was talking to 911, the woman in the road was trying to crawl towards her.
     She was no dummy.  This was what had been on the news.  It had finally reached them.  Jillian dropped her phone and ran back to her car.  There was no helping the woman in the road, the only person she could save was herself.  She got in the car, stomped on the gas, and was home within ten minutes.  She packed fast and loaded the car with necessities.  If this had reached her humble corner of the world there was only one place left to go: the cabin on the lake.  She took a quick look around, and grabbed a few books and luxury items now that she had covered the basics.  If she hurried, she could be there by dawn.

“Look at this, Batman.” Melinda waved a sheaf of papers in front of Scott’s nose, interrupting his Skyrimming time. He knew better than to start up when he was leaving in such a short time because Skyrim was like crack, but he simply couldn't resist.

“Back off, Lady Deathstriker. I’m about to go postal on this dragon’s ass. You’re messing up my flow.” Scott growled as he tried to peer around Melinda’s arm. She wouldn’t budge, though, so he reluctantly saved his game and grabbed the papers that Melinda was shoving in his face.

“You need to read this! Two dozen reported cases of bird flu at the clubs in the past three days. You –” Scott’s cell rang, and he answered it with alacrity.

“Hey, Jill, what’s up?” Scott turned away from Melinda as she made a face. Melinda couldn’t stand Jill, and the feeling was mutual; Scott didn’t much like Jill himself, but he was grateful for the interruption. He loved Melinda, but she got on his nerves with her constant worrying.

“Not much, handsome. What’s up with you?” Jill’s voice sounded thin and strained, but Scott just put it down to stress because there was always some kind of drama in Jill’s life.

“Going to The Nineties in a few. Gotta get my dance on.” At his words, Melinda started talking again about the bird flu and how it was sweeping the city, and Scott did his best to block her out.

“I left Gary, and I need to drink to forget my woes. Can I meet you there?” Scott frowned. He didn’t want to get involved in any of Jill’s drama because shit tended to get messy whenever she was around, but he didn’t quite know how to turn her down. Oh well. He could always ditch her at the club if she got to be too annoying.

“Sure. I’ll have my cell on. Give me a buzz when you’re in.” With that, Scott clicked off his phone, aware that Melinda was still talking about that damned bird flu.

“Three people have been reported dead.” Melinda frowned, looked at her notes, then slowly spoke again. “Actually, to be more precise, three people have been reported missing after contacting the bird flu and are presumed dead. However, they’ve been spotted elsewhere. Please, Scott, don’t go clubbing. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be careful, Mel – I promise. Someone even looks like he’s going to sneeze on me, and I’m out of there. OK? OK?” Scott gave Melinda his best grin, and she reluctantly smiled in return. “That’s my girl. I gotta roll. Sure you don’t want to go with me?”

“Not if Jill the Pill is going to be there!” Melinda retorted, gamely trying to joke back. It was hard, though, because what she really wanted to do was lock Scott in his room to prevent him from going. “I’ll have my cell phone on. Call me if you need me.” Scott didn’t bother asking what she could do if he caught the bird flu because he knew she needed to feel as if she had some control. He simply nodded, kissed her on the cheek, then hit the road.

_____________

Scott had to get away from Jill. She was drunk and crying about how she had wasted her youth on Gary while simultaneously trying to grab Scott’s cock. In the meantime, a hot black guy was giving Scott the eye, and Scott wanted a piece of that action. He pushed Jill off him for the eighth or ninth time before excusing himself to go to the john. Jill immediately toddled off to the bar to order another double tequila shot. Scott made a face as he availed himself of the facilities. He wasn’t surprised to see the black guy come in a few seconds later.

“Hey. S’up?” The black guy nodded at Scott as he stood next to him at the urinal.

“Not much, you?” Scott discreetly glanced downward and was pleased with what he saw.

“’Bout to call it a night. Wanna head out with me?”

“Yeah.”

They were both zipping up when they heard a commotion outside the door. They glanced at each other before rushing out to see what was going on. There seemed to be a fight at the bar with two guys attacking everyone around them. At first, Scott couldn’t quite see what was happening, but then he saw that one of the aggressors was gouging the flesh out of the people he was attacking. Big hunks of flesh from their arms, legs, faces; he even ripped half of one woman’s boob off and stuffed it into his mouth. When the woman let out a howl, Scott realized it was Jill.

“Shit! That’s my friend!” Scott started towards Jill, but the black guy stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Man, she’s a goner. Save yourself.” Scott opened his mouth to protest, but the black guy continued speaking. “Bro, check out the white dude. He’s not human the way he’s ripping shit up. He must be high on meth or something.” Scott looked back at the bar just in time to see the attacker tear off Jill’s ear and eat that, too. Pushing down his guilt, he nodded at his companion. Without another word, they got the hell out of there.

     Mac flipped off the television, and looked at Deb with worried eyes.  The military was getting involved, and yet nobody seemed to know the details of the disease.  There was debate about what happened to the infected, some tried to claim the dead were rising.  Others were more logically trying to say that the victims were going through a deep sleep cycle, crashing out, and when they woke up had suffered brain damage, either from the unbelievable fever or oxygen deprivation.
     The bottom line is there were no good answers, and not enough facts to determine a pattern.  Some people who were attacked could fend off the disease for hours, others succumbed in mere minutes.  Whether that was due to the person or the strain was just another variable.  Medical science had never seen anything with such diverse symptoms and virtually always the same outcome, people who were reduced to pure aggression, biting and clawing the healthy, while ignoring other infected.  These were general rules, but even those weren't set in stone.  Internet footage showed some of them attacking each other.  There was an incredibly small percentage who retained some higher thinking.  They were able to put a little basic thought into attacking, but the one thing every infected had in common was the desire to destroy.
     Deb's sister had refused to come stay with them, swearing instead that her new boyfriend would protect them.  Mary had chosen to stay in the guest room most of the time, shaken up by what she had experienced, and knowing she had unknowingly left her husband to be attacked and killed.  When she told Mac about her escape, she told him she saw her husband breathing, knocked out but mostly unharmed.  The truth is, she knew no such thing.  She had been so desperate to get out of there and so angry that she had swung with all her might.  There was also the knowledge that if John had gotten the upper hand he would have killed her for fighting back.  Still, deep in the back of her mind there was the concern that she had killed him or left him in a coma.  As her wounds healed, she worried about that in a secret place in her mind.  She also struggled with the fact that she wasn't the least bit sad if she had.
     Mac continued business as usual, but it was clear things were moving towards a tipping point, a place where the sick were going to outnumber the healthy, and that they might need to look for a long-term solution.  Deb knew her husband well, and she knew he was slipping out to work on the grain silo on the property.  It had become his playhouse when they bought the property, and he had been spending hours out there working.  He had also made several trips to town,  before others cleaned out the aisles and fights broke out among looters who were taking supplies by the truckload.  Once, she had seen a bed full of leafy plants, and she left him to it.  Mac was a smart fella, but he also kept his mind to himself.  When he was ready to let her in, he would, and until then she was content to let him work it out.
     School had officially been called off until further notice, but they had decided several days ago to keep Adam with them.  The worst of the attacks had slowly come out from Kansas City in growing ripples, but highly populated areas were by far the worst.  The infected numbers tended to explode, and the concentration of people were higher.  Out in the country, they had enjoyed quiet nights.  But Mac knew it was just a matter of time before it reached them.  Whatever was going on, it was big.  It was going to forever change the world, if it didn't wipe it out entirely.

     When Reese woke up, he originally thought the cops were raiding the camp again.  Every so often, they came and shook up the homeless settlements, making them pack up the tents and relocate.  There were about ten places inside city limits and just outside, and they had already decided that when the cops came they would meet back up by the cemetery just outside of town.  Because it was so remote, they were usually able to stay there for a few months before they were moved on.
     Unlike many who stayed here, Reese did not have a tent.  He preferred to be out in the open, where he could see what was going on and pack light.  He was a light sleeper, so he made his spot in the back of the clearing, invisible and silent.  The sound came again, louder and closer.  It was footsteps coming from the north, which is where the highway was.  The footsteps weren't careful, they were loud and almost clumsy, dragging through the leaves.  Though they were coming his way, they were still a fair distance off, still in the strip of undeveloped woods that separated the shopping district from the Interstate just beyond.  Cops never came from that direction, they came from the main street.
     He grabbed his backpack and slid silently through the trees.  He found a good one and climbed it, straining to see in the faint light from the east.  In another life, another time, he had been a soldier.  He hated to think about that part of his life, but he could still use the skills when the time was right.  From up high, he couldn't see anything but his hearing was plenty sharp.  There was more than one set of footsteps, that was clear now.  Four, five maybe?  They were not walking in the same rhythm, and not necessarily on a collision course with the camp.
     Over the next couple of minutes, the steps began to curve slightly away.  If they kept this bearing, they would bypass the clearing and come out on Chesapeake Road.  Given the sound, he wrote them off as wandering drunks.  He was getting ready to climb down when a baby began to cry.  He had seen the mother arrive late last night, weary and desperate for food.  Normally, they didn't let babies stay at the camp, and would have likely sent her packing today. But because of the late hour and her hollowed cheeks, they had let her stay the night.
     The second the cries pierced the early morning air, the footsteps picked up speed and came right for the sound.  One of them walked into a tree and fell down, but was back up and moving within a few seconds.  They had just come up to the tree line, so it wasn't a full minute before they reached the clearing.  Reese shouted a warning, but it was lost in a couple of angry shouts to quiet that damn kid down.  The sky was brightening rapidly, but it would be a while before it rose enough to reach the opening in the woods.  He still couldn't see anything, just hear those footsteps move and then reach the soft grass to his right.
     Then the screaming began.

“What the hell?” Tammy muttered under her breath as she read one of the numerous articles she had open. She scratched her head with her pen and frowned as she saw flakes of dandruff flutter to her computer desk. She made a mental note to change her shampoo again before returning to her laptop. Her  gray tabby rescue cat, Mr. Butters nudged her hand to get her attention, and she absentmindedly scratched him behind his ears as she skimmed her treasure trove of information.

She had twenty-three tabs open in Chrome, and each one had a story on the recent so-called SARS epidemic that had broken out in nightclubs across the Cities. From the minute Tammy had read about the outbreak, her skepticism meter had shot straight through the roof. Nothing in any story she read indicated bird flu, and yet, no other explanation was even proffered. Every official interviewed said the same thing, “We don’t have enough information to be definitive, but we are fairly certain this is a bird flu epidemic. We urge people to stay away from nightclubs for now.” Predictably, nightclub owners were furious.

“This is an outrage!” Pieter Dahl, the owner of Das Klub, sputtered on the ten o’clock news. “I have called the CDC, HCMC, the governor, and everyone else I can think of, and no one can say for sure that nightclubs are the problem. It’s irresponsible to tell people not to go to nightclubs. People have to dance!” Tammy stopped the video and read an eyewitness’s testimony instead, hoping to catch something new.

“I went out to smoke, and there was this dude. He was stumbling around, spouting nonsense. Honest! Pure gibberish. Then, he just fell down and started clawing the dirt! It was fucking weird as shit, man.” Of course, the eye witness had been drinking Jager Bombs all night long, so his account was suspect. Tammy did a little more digging and found another eyewitness who described seeing a woman waving her hands in front of her as if to ward off something, but there was nothing there. The same woman walked with a limp and seemed not to know where she was going. The second eyewitness had been celebrating his 21^st birthday by doing shots of Stoli, so he wasn’t exactly reliable, either.

Tammy frowned as the list of symptoms the two witnesses had produced tickled her memory. She had recently read an article about a disease that had these symptoms, and it wasn’t SARs. What was it? She had written a blog post on Big Ag last week. She spent days researching it, so she was certain that whatever disease she was thinking of had to be something related to her agriculture. She typed the symptoms into Google and scanned the results until she spotted the right one.

“Mad cow, not SARS!” Tammy sat back in her chair, stunned by her discovery. Sure, it was based on two somewhat-suspect boozy eyewitness accounts, but she could check it out herself. She would go to different nightclubs until she found one with a person infected with mad cow, starting with First Ave. where there had been three reported occurrences of ‘SARs’. Mad cow wasn’t contagious, so she was safe. This could be her big break! She quickly emailed the Strib editor she knew, told him she had some breaking news on the bird flu epidemic, and would he take her story on spec? He emailed her back saying only if she had definitive proof because he didn’t want a repeat of the Pawlenty and Bachmann teaming up for a Pres/VP run bullshit. Tammy flushed at his reminder of her stupidity before emailing back that he shouldn’t worry – she would get the proof tonight. She clicked ‘Send’ with as much emphasis as she could; after tonight, she would be a household name!

“Fucking rich cunts. I hate them,” Adam muttered under his breath as he cranked up Rush Limbaugh. “They always think their shit don’t stink.” Even though it was 23° out, Adam had the cab windows open because he was smoking as he was waiting for the rich bitch who was motherfucking late. He wasn’t supposed to smoke in the cab, but fuck that noise. He wasn’t gonna let any snotty-nosed bastard tell him what to do. He flicked his ashes outside the window in defiance as he fumed. He didn’t get to start the meter until his client stepped foot into the cab, so any time his engine was idling, he was dicked out of his money. He glanced at the nightclub where the bitch was supposed to be – Envy, and his lips twisted into a sneer. It was one of those upscale club where you paid a shitload of money for the privilege of someone acting like you were trash and a shitload more for watered-down booze. The guys all wore Ed Hardy shirts and the girls wore next to nothing at all – they were all a bunch of fucking poseurs. Adam would rather bring home a twenty-four pack of St. Paulis and watch the game on his 60” flat-screen TV than go into a dive like that.

“If that bitch don’t get here soon….” Adam let the thought trail off. He was talking shit because what the fuck else was he going to do? If he left without her, she would call his boss and bitch him out. Then, he’d lose his fucking job and have to ask his bitch ex-wife for a Benjamin to tide him over. No fucking way he was asking that bitch for anything – he’d rather cut his nuts off first. She was a fucking Feminazi who expected him to mop the floor and shit after he finished a shift. He worked fucking hard, putting in fifty to sixty hours a week, but no, that hadn’t been enough for Sylvia. Any time he tried to watch the Vikings or the Twins, she would stand in front of the TV and nag at him to pick up his socks or take out the trash or clean out the garage. He grew to hate the sound of her voice, and it was only a matter of time before she pushed him too far. He hadn’t meant to hit her with the frying pan; she had walked towards him, damn it, so it was her own damn fault.

Try telling that to the bastard judge, though. Fucker sat up there in his robes, sneering down at Adam when Adam pled not guilty. Adam had spent six months in jail and had to attend anger management classes afterwards. What a fucking waste of time – he didn’t have anger issues; he had goddamn fucking women are nagging bitches problems. Adam’s dad had told him, “Boy, if it weren’t for pussy, I wouldn’t touch a woman ever!”, and Adam had to agree. Women were nothing but trouble. Take that last bitch he fucked – what was her name? Laura or Linda or some fucking shit like that. Bitch came to him a month after he fucked her and said she was preggers and that it was his. She wanted a couple hundred to get an abortion, but Adam had told her to fuck off. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had fucked that whore that week the way she gave it up so easily to him – no way he was paying to kill some brat that wasn’t even his.

“Where the fuck is this bitch?” Adam pounded his steering wheel in frustration. Bitch was almost twenty minutes late, but wait. Someone was heading in his direction. Adam squinted. He couldn’t quite make out the figure in the dark, but it didn’t look like a woman to him. The figure was lurching towards him, which meant she was probably stinking drunk. A fetid odor wafted across Adam’s nose, and he cursed under his breath. Bitch probably puked all over herself, and now she was going to make the inside of his cab stink. He—a searing pain hit his left eye socket as he heard a squish and felt his eyeball pull away from said socket. Something warm trickled down his cheek as he finally registered that this, this, this thing was attacking him through his open window. He scrambled for the gear shift and ignoring the throb of his missing eyeball, finally managed to screech away from the curb. He set his brain on autopilot and headed for HCMC as fast as he could drive.

Jill stared at Gary, her eyes dull. They had been arguing for what seemed like hours, but actually had been their entire fucking marriage of twelve years. In the early days, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Now, she couldn’t imagine how she had put up with his ass for so long. Right now, he was haranguing her for god knows what bullshit as she had stopped listening to him a few minutes after he had opened his goddamn mouth. She thought it had something to do with how she never wanted to have sex with any more, and she had nothing to say to that other than, “Yes, I do – just not with you.”

“I’m through,” Jill said abruptly as soon as Gary stopped talking so he could take a breath. Jill got up from the kitchen table and stretched her back. She felt as if her spine had fused into a misshapen blob as she had sat listening to Gary dribble inanities – she made a mental note to set up a chiropractor appointment sometime this week, as soon as possible. She headed for the door, only to find herself blocked by Gary’s stocky frame. She looked at him in surprise as he wasn’t one to get physical. “Gary, get the fuck out of my way.” Jill didn’t bother to sugarcoat her words as she stared up into her husband’s eyes. He was a good eight inches taller than she was, something that annoyed her when she wanted to maintain a superior position. He was such a pussycat, though, she had no qualms about bossing him around.

“Don’t you tell me what to do, Jill. I am sick and tired of your highhanded announcements. You have always been a Grade A bitch throughout our marriage, but stupid me, I still want to make it work.” Gary’s voice was trembling as he spoke, but he used his height advantage to glare down at Jill. Predictably, it pissed her off; she placed her hands on Gary’s chest and pushed as hard as she could. Caught off-guard, Gary staggered and almost fell to the ground. Jill slipped by Gary and stalked up the stairs. She was in the bedroom packing when Gary threw open the door, his face suffused with fury.

“You’re not walking away from me again, Jill, not this time.” Gary advanced towards Jill, and for the first time in their marriage, she felt afraid of him. Not only was Gary eight inches taller than Jill, he outweighed her by a good seventy pounds – and most of it was muscle. He had been a boxer when they met in college, and he kept a punching bag in the basement so he could practice three to four times a week. Still, Jill knew that she couldn’t let him see her fear, so she stiffened her spine and glared back at him.

“What the fuck you going to do about it, Gary? Chain me to the bed?” Jill stood up and balled her hands into fists, ready to fight Gary if it came down to that. Her heart was pounding as she puffed out her chest because she really didn’t know what she would do Gary took a swing with her. She had grown up in Edina, for fuck’s sake. What the hell did she know about fighting? To her immense relief, Gary immediately deflated and burst into tears.

“Why are you so mean to me, Jill? All I’ve ever done is love you.” Fat tears were streaming down Gary’s cheeks as he slumped down on the bed. He buried his face in his meaty hands and wept loudly. Jill stared down at him with contempt in her eyes – god, he was such a fucking pussy. How the fuck had she put up with him for all these years?

“You’re pathetic, Gary. I’m getting out of here.” Jill threw a few more things in her suitcase before zipping it shut. Anything she didn’t have she could buy, and suddenly, she needed to be out of their house before she suffocated. She started toward the bedroom door, deliberately cutting her eyes away from Gary’s as he lifted his head to watch her.

“You’re going to fuck Scott, aren’t you? I know you have a thing for him.” Gary’s voice was defeated, as was his posture. He knew he had lost, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He tried to stifle his tears, but they continued to stream down his face against his will.

“If he’ll have me. He’s more of a man than you will ever be.” With that, Jill grabbed her suitcase and stormed out of the room, leaving a sobbing Gary behind her.