My Cardboard Balcony

Cradle Of Nowhere by Belinda Roddie Sweet baby's sleeping in the back of the Wrangler, not paying any mind to the coyotes prowling 'round the flattened tires. Their jaws are already set as if they're biting something gristly, but the lullaby from the stereo is enough to send every animal under the eclipse into dreamland.

Lester came barreling down the hallway with a shotgun, and Jessica wore a bandolier as she fired rounds into the screaming swarm. Her hands grew hot against the rubber grip of her AR-15, and she was grateful to be wearing heavy-duty gloves as each mindless grunt and shadow fell to the barrage of scorching steel and iron. Then she heard the floor rumble beneath her, and the maw of Hell opened wide.