Author Archives: Erin M. Klitzke

            God, what a mess.  Jacqueline suppressed another wince as she passed the curved needle through the flame of a borrowed lighter, sterilizing it for the task she meant it for—stitching Matt’s face back together.  She glanced at Leah, who’d … Continue reading →

            A strange sound echoed off the ruined buildings, faint, and if it hadn’t been so odd—and if Carolyn’s head hadn’t come up so quickly—they might have ignored it.  J.T. saw her move out of the corner of his eye … Continue reading →

            Thom sat quietly, staring at the bottle of pills in front of him, stroking the black furball ensconced in his lap.  The kitten had apparently adopted he and Marin over the past few days, and nothing he did could … Continue reading →

            Jacqueline shook her head, staring down at Thom’s ankle, still black and blue and swollen to the size of a small grapefruit.  “You know, Thom, we gave you those crutches so you’d stay off your ankle.”             “I am … Continue reading →

            “…I think he means that,” Brandon said lamely.             “Y’think?”  Kellin snapped, mind racing as Stasia tried to calm their panicking horses.  Hellions on pogo sticks, this was the last fragging thing I expected!  She looked at Tala, who … Continue reading →

              Stasia whistled ahead of them, and Kellin reined up her horse, a gray mare they hadn’t named since rescuing her and her stable mates from possible starvation the week before.  The mare trotted forward a few more steps … Continue reading →

            The trio made their way the long way around the edges of the ravine, moving toward what used to be the Lakes Plaza, where most of the university’s old classroom buildings were now in various stages of ruin.  J.T. … Continue reading →

            She could hear J.T.’s colorful insults before she came around the pile of rubble.  She wasn’t sure whose mother he was cursing, but she was glad it wasn’t hers.  Carolyn rounded the mound of broken brick and concrete, studying … Continue reading →

            Thom leaned against his crutch, keeping weight off his injured ankle and ignoring the soreness of his ribs.  They were getting better, but it was slow going—they’d probably been broken when the ceiling came down, something that he’d been … Continue reading →

            Matt looked up from tending the fire at the sound of Thom’s limping footsteps, then reached for one of the ceramic mugs stacked on a cutting board.  “Made coffee this morning.  You want some?”             Thom nodded, slowly sitting … Continue reading →