Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse
A Novel
I
This is how Mortimer Tate ended up killing the first three human beings he'd laid eyes on in nearly a decade:
A wreath of cloud lay smooth and still about the top of the mountain like bacon grease gone cold and white in a deep, black frying pan. The top halves of evergreens poked through the cloud, frosted from last night's snow. The final days of winter, not too cold -- Mortimer Tate estimated maybe thirty degrees. The thermometer had burst in the third year, that most bitter winter when it had gotten to twenty below or more. The thermometer had been made in America by a small company in Ohio.
Nothing was made to last anymore, Mortimer's dad had been fond of saying.
Mortimer sat at the window of the cabin, which had been built directly in front of the cave. The cave stretched back deep into the mountain. Mortimer sipped tea brewed from ginseng and tree bark he collected and dried himself. The coffee had run out the first year. So many things had run out that first year.
Mortimer watched the men come up the mountain, had seen them rise up through ... read full excerpt from: Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse: A Novel ebook
