“Marktown” by Noah Dobin-Bernstein
These punks sure picked an appropriate place to play at the apocalypse . . .
These punks sure picked an appropriate place to play at the apocalypse . . .
You got me. I sometimes steal away into McDonald’s with my nine year old, and we share a large fry. . .
It was at the town library that I heard about Officer Harrington’s quick thinking on the front steps of the MacCann house . . .
There was a young couple eating on the floor of a dead shipmaster. . .
I braced myself on the backseat as my red taxi careened around the corner. . .
It was a typical August night in Tokyo when each breath felt like you were sucking cotton into your lungs. . .
At eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night, a man and a woman checked into cabin number 17 at Venice Marina under the false names of David and Connie Monroe. . .
Brother Tomás watched the red tail hawk slowly circle overhead. . .