Month: October 2026

You should read Sisters In Hate

It’s Halloween, and I haven’t talked about any scary books yet. Granted, that’s because I’ve been posting every day on Weird Wyrlds, but still. Let’s spread the fun around over here.

Let’s talk about the scariest book I read this year. Let’s talk about Sisters in Hate.

Published in July of 2020 and written by Seyward Darby, Sisters in Hate is the story of how three women fell hard into the pipeline of White Nationalism. Only one came back out.

On the outside, the women have little in common. One is a mortician and former bodybuilder. One is a stay-at-home mom turned social media influencer. One is a radio host. What they share, in my opinion, is a fear of the world changing.

While telling their stories, Darby goes into the history of American White Nationalism and German White Nationalism. Surprisingly, there are, in fact, parallels.

Some of these stories I’ve heard before. This is a topic that I’ve been darkly fascinated with for a long time. But I still learned about new hate groups and horrific history while reading this book.

I knew that Germany had a huge propaganda campaign to encourage women to have as many babies as possible during the Nazi years. I knew the unfortunate story of Lynx and Lamb, and how their mother basically groomed them to be bait for young white men. I knew about the toxic blog, Return of Kings.

I didn’t know about Red Ice. I kind of wish I still didn’t. I didn’t know that there was a large anti-war campaign in America during WWII, led by mothers, who didn’t want their white sons dying for Jewish people.

This is actually the first thing I want to highlight about this book. It is astoundingly well researched and just packed with information. Even someone like me, who knows way too much about history and modern White Nationalism, learned a ton.

They weren’t happy things, but they were new.

That brings me to the second thing I loved about this book. Darby is unflinching in her journey into a very dark part of our society. She doesn’t actively attack these women, simply lays out the facts and allows us to make our own conclusions. This is smart. Not only would attacking these women not do any good, but it’s in fact likely what two of them want.

I think it’s important to remember that these women are just people. They have their own fears, hopes, and dreams. This doesn’t mean that their actions are justifiable or that the people they hurt don’t matter. But we’re not going to get through to anyone if we just keep screaming at them for being Nazis and racists. That just makes people cling to their Nazi and racist communities.

Honestly, this was the biggest takeaway from this book.

People who fall into these Alt Right groups often do so because they lack a sense of community. And these hate groups give them that. They give them identity and a sense of family. They give them a group of people who like what they like and fear what they fear. There are often cult tactics in play, like love bombing. People sometimes move to a new state to be closer to people they thought were friends, and now feel trapped. Maybe we’ll get farther with compassion for these people. And I know that’s very hard. It’s hard to feel compassion for people who are causing pain. But hurt people hurt people. And they don’t start hurting people because we hurt them more.

In the end, though, the best thing about Sisters in Hate is the overall message of hope.

There is hope for people lost in the Alt Right movement. There’s hope for communities suffering at their hands.

The first woman in the book is recovering from the Alt Right. She’s finding peace and community. She’s calling people she once would have called slurs sister. I almost cried at the end; it was so beautiful.

You should read Sisters In Hate. The best way to fight against hate and ignorance is with education and love. And that’s exactly what you’ll find in this book. Read it, share it, leave copies around town. But first, read it.

My book, Station 86 Volume One, is available now on Amazon! It’s got two dark sci-fi stories about murder and mayhem on the station of First Contact.

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The last Station 86 book is going to look different (But I swear, it’s coming!)

I haven’t published a Station 86 book since 2024. And I’m sorry to tell you that I don’t even have a rough draft finished for the last book yet.

I’m working on it right now! Don’t worry, it’s coming. But it’s going to look a little different than the others. And, honestly, that’s why it’s taken me so long to write it.

Since I’ve never really done anything like this, I thought I’d share this experience with you.

See, I’ve written no less than three rough drafts for the last Station 86 book. And none of them have worked. They’ve all sucked. I hate them all.

At first, I thought I was just scared of finishing my longest-running series. I mean, I’ve been writing Station 86 for a decade or more now. Finishing it is going to be emotional as hell.

But after some thinking and soul-searching, I realized that wasn’t it. I love this story, but it’s done.

And that’s the issue. The Hollow Suits are all but defeated. So there isn’t much story left to tell. Not enough for a start-to-finish narrative.

But there are loose ends. There are storylines that have remained unresolved, that I’d intentionally left unresolved, because I was planning on resolving them in the last book. And now, here I am at the last book, with nothing but a collection of slightly connected stories that need resolutions. I can’t write a collection of slightly related stories just to give satisfying answers to all the little plotlines, while also finally defeating the main monsters in the series, can I?

Wait, can I?

Artists are always learning and evolving. Art changes. Consumer taste changes. And what was considered unheard of years ago is mainstream now. I mean, let’s look at some books that have thrown conventional wisdom out the window. Incidents Around The House was told almost entirely from the point of view of a child, with little to no punctuation.

The latest Paul Tremblay book has an interlude in the middle where Paul goes on a little rant to his readers.

Dozens of books are now written in present tense, like the Savage Rebellion trilogy. That seems run-of-the-mill now.

This is How You Lose the Time War was written entirely in letters passed between time travelers.

I loved all of these books! And lots of other people did, too. They work in part because their authors told the stories in the way they needed to be told, conventions be damned.

Now, I’m not Paul Tremblay. But I thought I at least wasn’t so hung up on traditions. Turns out I was. I’ve spent years trying to shove a square peg in a round hole because I was sure it should fit. To be clear, I wrote the last Station 86 book before Nova. Nova was supposed to just be flashbacks. I thought the reason why I couldn’t write the last book was that Nova needed to come first. And in part, I was right. I think Nova’s a great book.

I need to let this last book be great as well. I want to be like Paul Tremblay, not George RR Martin.

So, I told you all that to tell you this. If you’ve got a project that you’re struggling with, consider if it might benefit from some unconventional framing. Don’t force yourself to do things ‘the way they’ve always been done’. Write the book you want to write, in the way you want to write it. And if you’ve been waiting for the last Station 86 book, I’m sorry for the delay. It’ll be worth the wait.

My book, Station 86 Volume One, is available now on Amazon! It’s got two dark sci-fi stories about murder and mayhem on the station of First Contact.

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How I keep my home clean (enough)

I would start this post with that great Dorothy West quote, but I just used that one recently.

I hate housekeeping. And I honestly think people do too much of it. Who the hell cares if your baseboards are dusty? Are we really judging people for dusty baseboards or dirt on the windowsills? We shouldn’t be.

That being said, a certain amount of cleaning up does need to be done. I’m not thrilled about it. Dishes need to be washed. Laundry, too. The cat box, of course. And there is a certain amount of mopping, sweeping, and tidying up that can’t be avoided.

Much as I might try.

However, housekeeping is usually at the bottom of my priority list, under caring for my disabled husband and pets, working a full-time job, and writing.

Oh, and taking care of myself enough that I can continue to do all the other things. My health is more important than a clean closet.

So, what do I do to keep up with what needs to be kept up with? In a life so busy, how does any cleaning get done at all? Let’s talk about it.

Prioritize

If you only have fifteen minutes to dedicate to cleaning a room, do the most important things first. For instance, let’s say I’m cleaning the bathroom. I need to clean the cat box, scrub out the tub, clean the toilet, and declutter the counter. If I only have a few minutes, obviously the cat box is first. Then the toilet. Sanitation and things that can impact our health always come first. The decluttering can wait for another time.

Deligate

Unless you live alone, everyone in the house should be helping keep it clean. It’s up to your household how that gets delegated. But it should be.

Even a five-year-old can pick up his own toys.

In my house, my roommate does the lawn mowing. We split dish duties and dinner cooking. I keep the bathroom hygienic. We take turns caring for the dogs, taking them out and trimming their nails. The Darling Husband does what he can, what with the stroke and all. But anyone physically able to do home care in your home should be doing it.

Audiobooks

I’d rather be reading than washing dishes. I’d rather be reading than vacuuming. I’d rather be reading than folding laundry, decluttering my closet, scrubbing the bathroom, or really anything else. Since I have yet to master the practice of levitation, I listen to audiobooks.

This makes a boring chore tolerable. I can listen to a great story and all but forget what my hands are doing. I just started listening to Please Remain Seated by Marcus Kliewer, if you’re wondering.

Make a cleaning chart

Ugh, yes! Making a cleaning chart has actually helped me keep my home cleaner. But not necessarily for the reason you might think.

I don’t know about you, but when it comes to home care, I tend to get overwhelmed. There are just so many things that need to be done. And I usually clean at the end of my day, when I’m suffering from serious decision fatigue. I’m more likely to just throw my hands up in frustration and not get anything done.

So, I made a cleaning chart. I wrote down all the things I needed to get done daily and weekly. And I gave each day a chore to perform. I used my day job schedule as a guide, assigning heavy tasks to days off and easy tasks to longer days. If you’re interested in making your own cleaning chart, here’s mine as an example.

Daily tasks-

Wash dishes

Wipe down kitchen counters

Wipe down bathroom counters

Swish and swipe toilet (Yes, I was inspired by the FlyLady. No, I don’t wear shoes in my house.)

Cat box

Weekly tasks-

Monday (A day off)- Do laundry and run errands

Tuesday- Empty out the trash bins

Wednesday (An overtime shift)- Go through any mail

Thursday- Mop downstairs

Friday- Vacuum upstairs and mop bathroom

Saturday (An overtime shift)- Clean out French Press

Sunday (A day off)- Plan meals for the coming week, fill pill sorters, and order any prescriptions we’re out of.

I also pick a room every week, and try to spend ten to fifteen minutes a day cleaning and decluttering. Again, the point is to give myself a direction, so I don’t have to think about what needs to be done. I can just do them.

Give things a home

You can’t put things away if there isn’t an away to put them. Everything in your house should have somewhere it goes when it’s not being used. Simple as that.

Do little things every day

I think this is the worst thing about homecare. It’s not ever going to be a one-and-done project. As soon as you clear the sink of dishes, you’ve got to cook again and make more dishes.

It’s also a blessing, though. As you notice in my weekly chore list, I’m not getting everything done every day. I do a little here and a little there.

I find moments when I can get a tiny thing done. If I’m waiting for water to boil in the kettle, I’ll put dishes away and sort out things on the counter. If I’m going from my bedroom upstairs to the living room downstairs, that mug on my desk is coming with me. This approach leaves me feeling far less overwhelmed.

Don’t make it a punishment

I hate to blame my mother for all of my problems. But I do blame her for this one. Cleaning was never fun growing up. It was a constant stream of arguments. It was never done right, never done fast enough.

It was never enough.

Now, I’m not saying that cleaning is anyone’s favorite thing. But it has to be done, and it might as well be pleasant. I light a candle and put on an audiobook or some music. My roommate might join me, and we’ll talk about things. I like to buy cute sponges and nice-smelling soaps. In short, the goal is to make this as enjoyable an activity as possible.

Overall, cleaning has to be done, and it brings with it rewards. When you do laundry, you’re rewarded with clean, nice-smelling clothes. When you put things away, you know where they are next time. And when you keep your dishes done, you don’t have to fight your kitchen to make a cup of tea. So you owe it to yourself to make cleaning as quick and painless as possible.

My book, Station 86 Volume One, is available now on Amazon! It’s got two dark sci-fi stories about murder and mayhem on the station of First Contact.

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Banned Books Week, 2026

Happy Banned Books Week!

For those who don’t know, Banned Books Week is a once-a-year celebration by the American Library Association to fight censorship and raise awareness about book bannings in America. Because books get banned for the dumbest reasons, we need to talk about it.

People who do bad things would prefer we not notice. That’s why the news media is always the first to be attacked when politicians start doing horrible things.

Did you see what happened with the White House Press Corps? How Trump just banned them from the White House? That was scary. I mean, forget Halloween. This presidency is the real American Horror Story.

I swear, this holiday gets less fun every year.

Banning books is insidious. It’s not about protecting children from adult content. It’s about controlling what we think and how we perceive the world. The books most likely to be banned are ones that make, well, a certain kind of person uncomfortable. They’re books about being gay, Black, Jewish, or Native, mostly. And if you don’t believe me, here’s a list of the eleven most banned books in 2025 from the ALA.

Some of my favorite banned books didn’t make the list this year, but they’re always worth a read. To Kill a Mockingbird, The Handmaid’s Tale, All Boys Aren’t Blue, Maus, and I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. These should be taught in school. Do they handle sensitive topics? Yes, that’s the point. Sometimes we need to be a little uncomfortable. That’s how we learn.

Look, I’m not going to sit here and say that reading Maus was a peaceful or easy experience. But it was profound. I’ll take a profound change in perspective over being comfortable.

Every year, the ALA picks one book for their Right To Read Night event. While I’ve never had the chance to attend one of these events, I do try to read the book every year. This year, the book is Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. It’s a lovely poetry book, and I can’t wait to read it. I highly recommend you give it a try, too.

Finally, let me say with my whole chest, fuck censorship. We need to be fierce defenders of the freedom of expression. We need to be fierce defenders of the freedom of the press. Words have power. Stories have power. That’s why those who would control us want to take them away. Or just convince us never to read them at all. Fuck that.

So what about you? What are you reading for Banned Books Week? Let us know in the comments.

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Station 86, Volume one is available now!

It’s here! It’s finally here. This day has been years in the making, but we made it!

For the first time, Seeming and You Can’t Trust The AI are now available in physical print form.

I have to tell you, when I first started writing this series, I didn’t think this day was ever going to come. Mostly because I envisioned it as an internet-exclusive sort of continuing story. Something like what you’d see on Wattpad, with me adding chapters whenever I had the time/felt like it.

That was the plan. But it’s just not how my brain works. It works in novels, not serialization. So what we got instead was a series five books deep so far.

I’m working on the rough draft of the last book right now.

Because of the way the first book came about, it was just too short to print. But here we are now, and finally it’s a book you can hold in your hand.

I am so thankful to all of you for your continuing interest in Sennett, Godfrey, and their home in the stars. As I’m working on the last book now, I’m getting very emotional. This story has been a part of my life for a very long time now. I hope that it’s brightened yours a little.

You can get your own copy now on Amazon.

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You Can’t Trust The AI, Episode Three

“Here,” Godfrey said, putting a plate of fries and a sandwich in front of April. “I haven’t been able to get hold of your mom yet.”

“What are you making so much food for?” April asked, surveying the counter. There was a plate of cookies sitting next to a stack of sandwiches and a humongous basket of fries

“It helps calm me,” Godfrey said.

“I don’t think cooking when your hands are shaking like that is a good idea,” she said.

Godfrey glanced down at his hands. They were shaking, even wrapped around a spatula. “Well, what you gonna do?” he asked, shrugging.

 Mason came back into the stall from the greenhouse behind it. “I swept all the isles and turned on the watering system. That thing needs a serious upgrade, by the way.”

“Do you know why Sennett wouldn’t be answering a call?” Godfrey asked.

“Because she’s at work,” Mason said, reaching for a hand towel. “She’s probably doing something important.”

“What time is her shift over?” Godfrey asked.

“Why don’t I just send her a message, Grandpa?” Mason said. He shook his head, then tapped open his virtual visor. He started making typing motions with his hands. “What’s this big important thing you’ve got to tell her?”

 Godfrey thought a minute. What was he supposed to say? He’d seen his father for only a few minutes, but it made him think the whole Earth was in danger? He thought someone might be on their way to endanger the station? He was scared, and he felt safer when Sennett was there? None of those seemed like the best things to tell her. “Just ask her if she saw that footage. Ask her if she has any idea what it might mean,” he said.  

“Whatever,” Mason said.

April was looking toward the transit station. “Uncle Mason, I think someone’s hurt,” she said.

 “Why?” Mason asked, not looking at her.  

“Because they’re screaming,” she said.

 That got both men’s attention. Mason’s visor turned off and Godfrey leaned over the counter to look in the direction that she was now pointing. “Can’t you hear them?” she asked.  

Godfrey listened. After a few moments, he did hear screaming. But it didn’t sound like just one person as April had said. It sounded like a crowd.  

“Come behind the counter,” he said, reaching for April. He lifted her off of her stool and set her down next to him. People were running past the stall. Some were calling for the police, some were just doing their best to get away, from what he couldn’t see yet.

One woman stopped long enough to say, “Get that little girl out of here, we’re under attack!” before running past.

“Under attack by what?” Mason asked.

Godfrey pushed a button under the counter. The steel shutter on the front of his stall came down, shutting out the street. “Stay here,” he said, “I’m going to find out what’s going on. Keep trying to reach Sennett. Try Ki, too.”

“But I want to see what’s going on,” April said.

“Hush,” Mason said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Godfrey slipped out of the side door.

 The streets were flooded with screaming people, running from what looked like robotic dogs. One jumped on an Earth woman and started cutting her stomach open with a circular saw that extended from its middle. Godfrey ran for her, but just as he reached her a hand pulled him back. He turned to see Amy shaking her head. “Not her, she’s lost,” she cried, pointing across the aisle. “Get him!”  

 There was a Ma’sheed boy there, crouched behind another food stall, crying. Godfrey nodded and ran to get him. A dog lunged for him, only to be knocked back by a blast from Amy’s air gun. It was only distracted for a moment, though.  

Godfrey ran to the boy. “Come with me,” he said, reaching for him. The child took his hand, and Godfrey turned back to where Amy was standing. She had an air gun in one hand and an electric pistol in the other. Godfrey scooped the child up into his arms and ran.

 One of the dogs jumped, knocking into him. Godfrey fell, just barely managing not to land on the boy. The dog extended its saw, only to be knocked away by a Toth man who sold shaved ice a few stalls away from Godfrey’s. “Get up, Man!” he cried, holding a crowbar aloft in case another dog attacked.

Godfrey and the Ma’sheed boy scrambled to their feet. Together, the three of them ran for Godfrey’s stall. They reached the door and flung themselves inside just before a pack of dogs reached them.

Godfrey sat down on the ground hard. “Thank you,” he said to the Toth man.

“Of course,” the man said, “You are Councilman Anders, yes?”

“Just Godfrey,” he replied.

“Very well. My name is Othollo. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” the man said.

“Khal’Lee!” April cried, running to the boy. “Why weren’t you in school today?”

“What the hell is going on out there?” Mason cried before the boy could respond.

“Before I tell you, I’m going to have to ask that you suspend your disbelief,” Godfrey replied, “We seem to be under attack by robot dogs.”

“You’re shitting me,” Mason said.

“Did you get a hold of Sennett or Ki?” Godfrey asked.  

“Not yet,” Mason said.

“Well, given the current circumstances, I’m sure she’s busy,” Godfrey said, “Okay, situation. We’re trapped in here by robot monsters, unarmed. Amy’s out there by herself trying to save everyone with two guns. Thoughts?”

“There are some tools we can use in the greenhouse,” Mason said.

“Good,” Godfrey said. He started towards the door to the greenhouse in the back of the stall. “Are you going out there again?” April asked.

“Honey, Amy’s all alone,” Godfrey said.

“I’ll come too,” Othollo said.

“I guess I’ll keep track of the kids, then,” Mason said.

Godfrey considered the tools for a moment, then chose a hand ax. After a moment of thought, he grabbed a metal trash can lid as well. A shield never hurt anybody, he reasoned.

He and Othollo headed out of the door. The dogs were everywhere. Godfrey saw people perched on top of stalls, huddled together. Some were still on the streets, running or trying to make stands with makeshift weapons.

Amy was easy to spot. She stood in front of a handful of people, firing with both of her weapons at the dogs that were circling them.

 Godfrey had no combat training whatsoever. What he did have was the upper arm strength of someone who was raised on a farm. He swung his ax into the head of the nearest dog. It dented but didn’t split. “Well, that’s not great,” he said.  

Othollo was swinging at the dogs with similar results. “They are horribly strong, aren’t they?” he said.

“I’m not great with all this technology,” Godfrey said, bringing his ax down into the hinge at the neck of the dented dog. This, at least, had the desired effect as the head of the dog broke away and slid along the floor.

“Get back in your stall,” Amy said, “You’re a civilian.”

“Because you’ve got this all under control, Officer?” Godfrey asked.

 Amy sighed. “I liked it better when men stayed at home and kept house. Have you got the room in your place?”  

“Yeah, plenty of room,” he said, swinging at a dog.

“Good,” Amy said. She waved to the handful of people behind her. “Let’s get going.”

Godfrey and Othollo led the way back toward his stall, doing their best to keep the dogs at bay. “Get back from the door,” Godfrey yelled, running the last few feet. He pulled the door open. A Khloe boy ran through, followed by a group of school age girls.

Then he heard Amy screaming. He turned to see her on the ground, a dog above her with its saw extended, cutting into her belly.

 Godfrey ran for her, swinging at the dog with all of his strength. The ax head stuck in the dog’s body, he had to brace himself to pull it out. A  teenage boy with a head full of curly blond hair lifted Amy off of the ground. “Where are we going?” he asked.  

“This way,” Godfrey said, looking around for dogs.

They managed to get her through the door and into the greenhouse, where the others had collected. A dog banged into the door just as Godfrey got it closed.

Mason saw Amy and grabbed a couple of the blankets that Godfrey used to protect the plants when it was cold. “Set her down here,” he said.

Godfrey and the boy brought her to the spot and laid her down. “I’m an intern at the hospital,” the boy said, pulling a white box from his belt. Godfrey recognized it as an emergency care kit. “Hey, I’m Eric,” the boy said, kneeling next to her, “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“Amy Wilson,” she said, wincing. “I think I’m going to need a little more than cleaned up.”

“Nah, you’ll be fine,” Eric said, “This is nothing.” The smile he gave her said otherwise. He pulled open her shirt and pressed a cloth from his kit against the wound.  

Godfrey’s wrist pad, a gift forced upon him by Sennett, lit up. “Godfrey?” Ki said. Her quartz like pink hair was shining with a line of sweat along her brow. Her red skin was flushed, her eyeliner smudged. He’d never seen her look so out of her element.  

“Your timing couldn’t be better,” Godfrey said, “You wouldn’t believe what’s going on here.”

“Please tell me it’s a bunch of homicidal robotic dogs,” Ki said, “Because that’s what’s happening here and I don’t think we can handle anything else right now.”

“Well, good new then,” Godfrey said, “Officer Wilson is hurt, can you look at her through this thing?”

“Yeah, take me over there,” Ki said.

Godfrey held up his wrist so that she could see Amy and Eric. “I’m going to need you to lift that cloth up, Intern,” she said.

“Yes, Doctor,” Eric said, carefully lifting it.

“She’s probably got internal bleeding,” Ki said, “Have you done your training on INR’s?”

“Yes, but I haven’t really used them before,” Eric said.

“What are INR’s?” April whispered.

“Internal nanite repairs,” Mason said.

A banging sound on the wall caught Godfrey’s attention. “I’m giving you to Eric,” he said to Ki, then took his wrist pad off and set it next to the boy.

“What are we going to do if they come through the walls?” Mason asked.

“Boy I wish I had an answer to that question,” Godfrey said.

The kids were huddled together, looking around them as the robot dogs crashed into the greenhouse from every side. “What’s going on?” one of the girls asked.

“That’s another good question,” Godfrey said.

“Oh, shit,” Eric whispered. Amy was choking, blood was coming from her mouth.

“Uncle Mason, help her!” April cried.

“I can’t,” Mason said, “I’m not a doctor.”

Amy was reaching for Eric. “I, I need-,” she said. Then she laid back onto the blanket. She wasn’t choking anymore. She wasn’t breathing anymore either.

“My God, she’s dead,” one of the girls whispered.

Godfrey set a hand on her neck, just to prove to himself that there was no pulse. April and Khal’lee started crying, as the banging continued from outside.

“Godfrey,” Ki said sharply from his wrist pad. He picked up his wrist pad. “We just lost her,” he said.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but we don’t have the time to mourn her right now. We need to focus on getting the rest of you out of there. We’ve got the hospital on lock down.”

“Why don’t we stay here,” Godfrey said, “The dogs can’t get us here.”

“What if someone else gets injured?” Ki asked, “What if the dogs break through your greenhouse? Godfrey, are you really comfortable betting all of those people’s lives on a greenhouse you put together yourself?”

“Okay, come get us, then,” Godfrey said.

“Yeah, I can’t actually do that,” Ki said, “All of our personal transporters have been disabled.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we’re on lock down and the hospital officials don’t want all of us leaving to get our families.”

“That complicates things,” Godfrey said, “How am I supposed to get these people up there?”

“They’ll listen to you,” Ki said, giving him a smile. “You’re convincing like that. Just get to me safe.”

 “I will,” he said, though he didn’t feel nearly as confident as he was trying to sound. He strapped his wrist pad back on and turned to face the others.  

“The hospital has been established as a safe house. I intend to head that way,” he said.

“How?” Mason asked, “I can’t imagine the transit’s still running.”

“We’ll have to try,” Godfrey said. As he spoke, he heard the sound of dogs hammering on the outside of the greenhouse. “Look, I don’t know how long this place will hold. If we’re at the hospital, the authorities know where we are and they can help us.”

“But what if Mommy comes here looking for us?” April asked.

“Have we heard from her?” Godfrey asked.

“No, nothing,” Mason said.

“Most likely she’s dealing with this situation. Mason, it’s up to you, though. I’m not April’s guardian. Look, I’m not going to insist that any of you come with me. If you want to stay in the greenhouse, you’re more than welcome. Help yourself to as much food as you want. If any of you want to come with me, I only promise that I’ll do anything I can to get you there safely.”

Another dog hit the wall, denting it.

“I think I’ll trust you on this one,” Mason said, giving the dent a wary look.

“I am happy to come with you as well,” Othollo said.

Godfrey knelt in front of Khal’Lee. “Honey, where’s your mom and dad?” he asked.

“My dad’s at work,” Khal’Lee said.

“Who were you at the market with?” Othollo asked.

“And why weren’t you at school?” April asked.

“Um,” Khal’Lee said, “I kind of skipped.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Godfrey said, “The only thing that matters right now is keeping you kids safe until we get you back with your parents. Can you trust me to do that?”

The boy looked up at him, his brilliant glowing eyes wide. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Good boy,” Godfrey said, “Who else is coming?”

Eric and the other teenagers looked at each other. “I’ll come,” he said, and the others nodded in agreement. 

“Okay,” Godfrey said, “If we’re going to be risking our lives together, girls, we should at least know everyone’s names. I’m Godfrey, this is Mason and April.” He pointed toward each person as he said their name. “You seem to already know Eric, but that’s Khal’Lee and Othollo.”

The three Earthian girl’s looked at each other. “I’m Calli,” one pale girl, with blond hair and a large pair of ornamental glasses said.

“Becca,” said the second, who had a head full of braids and a Foundation Party pin on the front of her shirt.

 “Connie,” said the last one. She was easily the tallest, in fact, taller than anyone in the room.  

Finally, the Khloe boy spoke. “My name’s Tu,” he said.

“Godfrey,” Mason said, “You should take Officer Wilson’s weapons.”

“Why me?” Godfrey asked.

“Because you have the most experience with guns,” Mason replied.

 Godfrey sighed. He picked up Amy’s weapon and tucked it into his belt. “Stay close everyone.”  

Othollo cracked the door open. There were only two dogs in sight. Godfrey shot one, but it shook off the blast and ran for them. Mason brought a crowbar down on its head, but it kept coming. Othollo swung his pipe.

The dog lunged at Mason. He hit it hard with his crowbar, launching it a few feet. “Damn they’re heavy,” he cried, holding his arm.

“I have him!” Othollo cried, jumping between Mason and the dog.

Again, the dog ran around Othollo to get to Mason.

Godfrey, fighting his own dog, couldn’t stop it. Mason jammed his crowbar into the dog’s open mouth, then wrenched it upward.

The dog broke open, spilling organs out onto the ground.  

 “It wouldn’t come near me,” Othollo said. He walked over to the dog that Godfrey was fighting and gave it a solid kick in its side. It whimpered, shying away from him before launching itself at Godfrey again.  

He shot again, finally disabling it. Mason crouched down, inspecting the organ’s that had fallen from the first dog. “These are all Earthling,” he said, “And they’re all in good condition. I think they’re harvesting them.”

“How do you know they’re Earthling?” Eric asked.

“I’m a biologist,” Mason said, “I’d be a piss poor student if I couldn’t tell Earth organs from others.”

“What’s a tech freak like you studying biology for?” Godfrey asked.

 “Because I want to make biotech,” Mason said, “Hey, can you judge my life later if I still have it?”

“Does that mean the dogs won’t attack me?” Othollo asked. 

“Maybe,” Mason said, “Or maybe it’s just this one dog that’s programmed to collect human organs and other dogs are programmed to collect Toth organs.”

“I hadn’t thought of it in that way,” Othollo said.

“How about we get to the transit station without attracting too many more of these things?” Godfrey asked. Even as he spoke, they could hear more dogs coming around the corner of the greenhouse. He knelt to grab Khal’Lee and pull him onto his back. Mason did the same with April, and they ran.

When the transit was in site, Godfrey risked a look back. There were a handful of dogs just behind them, but he could see more in the distance, gaining fast.

Suddenly April screamed. Godfrey turned to see Mason sprawled on the ground, he must have tripped. A dog jumped towards her and caught hold of her jacket.

 Then it stopped. It let go of her and started sniffing her all over. Then it sat down and yipped at her.  

Mason scrambled to his feet. He scooped her up and kept running.

A transit train was waiting at the station, having just arrived. Godfrey jumped for it, the others just a moment behind him. When they were all in he turned and started firing, keeping the dogs at bay until the doors closed and the transit left the station. 

© 2026 Nicole Luttrell. All rights reserved.

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