“She can’t run in a straightjacket. At the fence I hacksaw a loose strand of barbwire at the cloth that hugs her arms. She grins, showing ferret teeth, eyes reflecting blue from the electric lights. Her skin is cold. Girl’s skin is always cold; she has problems with her circulation. When she kisses me it’s like kissing cold liver.”
A story about a couple who escape from a secure facility in order to find refuge from the end of the world. Published in SubTerrain. Buy a copy here.