Killing Tiffany Hudson

A quick note: Killing Tiffany Hudson was a first for me in several ways. It was my first swim in the Science Fiction end of the pool, and was also my first story written in first person. I enjoyed this story enough that I decided to expand it in my upcoming novel Children of the Plague, which will I intend to launch simultaneously at all major retailers as well as here on Wattpad in February.

I hope you enjoy Killing Tiffany Hudson. I hope it destroys and excedes your expections, and I hope you like enough to click the VOTE button, add it to your bookshelves, and share it with your friends. If you'd like to own Apocalypstick, which also includes the Psychological Horror story Finding Home, you can purchase it from your favorite eBook retailer--as long as that retailer is Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, or iTunes. It is on sale from $2.99 to 99 cents.

As always, your comments are welcome and appreciated. Unless they are mean. Alright, I'll still appreciate the mean ones, but shame on you, meanie!

Killing Tiffany Hudson

by Gregory Carrico

The other exterminator sat next to me on the guardrail, trying to catch her breath. She looked carefully at my knife while massaging the sides of her bald, tattooed head. Was she smiling?

"You're pretty good with that thing," she said.

I suppressed a growl, and glanced down the quickly darkening street for signs of more offspring. There were always more of them in a city, and thanks to her, they'd have no trouble finding us. She'd be lucky if I didn't leave her here to die. Not that she would fare any better if I stayed; she just wouldn't die alone.

I risked a quick scan for other thoughts to see how close the offspring were, and was surprised when a ripple of emotion tickled the back of my mind. Fear. Panic. It wasn't from her, either. I stood and spun around, trying to get a fix on it, but it was gone. One thing was certain, though: it had to be human.

"I like somethin' with a bit of reach, myself," the girl continued. Her spear had a four foot haft, but it's slightly curved, serrated blade added another two feet to its length. From the way she used it, it might have been her favorite childhood toy.

Ignoring her, I scanned the streets and buildings around us for more thoughts. She must have been there to find the humans, too. If we could find them quickly, we stood a chance at reaching a safer spot out in the country. The only thoughts I found were hers, though, and oddly, they were rather buoyant. Happy, even.

"Lots of big ones out today," she continued casually. "Sure are different than they were at first. What was your first like?" Her accent was strong, but pleasant. Probably Texas. Her S's were soft, and her 'first' sounded like 'firsht'.

I didn't answer. I needed to know more about her if I was going to fight at her side again. I attuned to her mind and listened to her thoughts. She had some gall, being happy in this paved graveyard. If she had lost it, and was trying to get killed, she should have done it quietly, so I didn't have to come try to save her.

Nothing in her surface thoughts explained what she was doing, or why she was so happy. She wasn't trying to get killed, though; this was just a normal day for her. When she fought, she went full bore. She was an all-or-nothing sort of person, which meant short-lived for an exterminator. How she had survived this long with that philosophy was a complete mystery, and probably nothing short of a miracle.

"Well?" she asked. She stood up and faced me, and my heart stopped.

For a second, wavy blonde hair framed her pretty face, tears poured from her soft, brown eyes, and her curious gaze morphed into a tortured, accusing glare. I blinked, and her bald, tattooed scalp returned. Her cheeks were dry, and a half smile twisted her thin lips. My heart beat again.