Day 19: Witch Hunt

“Let me tell the story of your life,” Eric panted. He didn’t have time to stop and breathe, and the white proximity of the four blades closed his throat. His Adam’s apple convulsed drily--he'd better talk fast.

Day 17: Woman in Black

The further they delved into the base, the more important-looking the rooms got. The smell of wine got stronger, the cut of the suits got nicer, and the rough-looking kids started thinning out. The handguns started getting more conspicuous, too, and shinier.

Day 15: Jackson Pollock

They crowded up to a rattling, graffiti-riddled bus with no other passengers and an unshaven driver, who to James smelled of despondence and whisky. The driver lolled out of his chinfolds to blink out the open door at the six of them. If he noticed the gun between James’ shoulders or the threatening arm around Lizzy’s, he didn’t comment.

Day 14: Childhood Enemies

“Let’s leave my father’s alcoholism out of this, operative,” the big guy retorted, stiff as a board. He crossed his arms so the muscles in his shoulders all popped out like mutated grapes. “I’m in charge of this squad, in case you forgot. So stuff it, Tess.”