TOO OLD TO DIE

SHE WALKED TO THE KLIN ROOM DOOR WITH A GROWING PRICKLINESS ON THE BACK OF HER NECK. A CRY CHOKED SOMEWHERE DEEP INSIDE HER THROAT.

SHE RAN OVER THE GIANT KLIM NUMBER 6 WHERE THE LEGS OF MARJORIE MILLER STUCK OUT AND THE HEAVY FOUR INCH THICK LID COVERED HER BACK AND HEAD. THERE WAS NO MOVEMENT, NO SIGN OF LIFE, BUT STILL SHE CALLED HER NAME; THIS TIME MORE QUIETLY.

THEN AS SHE REACHED INSIDE TO GENTLY TOUCH HER FACE, HOPING TO AWAKEN HER, HER HAND YIELDED A STICK MASS.

“OOH, NO, IT’S BLOOD.”