What Are You Doing Now?" Al Questioned

Like The End Of A Picnic, All The Weenies Will Be Roasted.

Trent, Do You Have Any Weapons? Like A Gun?” He Looked At Me In Disgust. “you’re Here To Protect Me,” He Said As He Closed The Distance Between Us And Stood Beside Me. “you Didn’t Bring A Weapon?” “yeah, I Brought A Weapon,” I Snapped As I Brought My Splat Gun Out And Aimed It At The Ceiling Where The Sounds Were Coming From. “i Just Thought That Since You’re A Freaking Murderer You Might Have A Gun, Too (...)

Ford Put A Hand To His Head. “back Up. Back Up!” He Cried. “you’re Too Close.” Heart Pounding, I Looked At The Eight Feet Between Us And Pressed Into The Fridge. “i Think He Meant For The Ghost To Back Up,” Jenks Said Dryly.

I Want One Thing I Can Point To And Say, 'that Is Good, And It's A Part Of Me.'

Rachel,” Came A Raspy Voice From The Upper Level, And Both Trent And I Turned. It Was Quen, Wrapped In A Blanket As If It Was A Death Shroud, The Black-haired Intern At His Side, Supporting Him. His Hair Was Plastered To His Skull With Sweat, And I Could See Him Wavering As He Stood There. “don’t Touch Trenton,” He Said, His Gravelly Voice Clear In The Hush, “or I’m Going To Have To Come Down There…and Smack You Around.