The Battle for Moscow, Idaho
My severed fingers lay in the snow of the parking lot, flakes melting on their tips. Shoes squeaked in the snow. I had been shot somewhere in the chest with [...]
The Werewolf of Narashtovik
The memory of the day he’d killed Larrimore came to Dante, as it always did, with a dizzy jolt – jarred, this time, by the dead guard sprawled in the [...]
All Man’s Children
Every day when the sun rises over the orange and brown of the plains, I turn toward it with my one good eye and I pray that Arthur didn’t have [...]