The Crop
Jasmine Arch
Hayley’s eyes shone in the light of a crayon candle. “But Mummy, I don’t want my hair cut. You always say it’s pretty.”
I kissed her sticky cheeks and hugged her before turning to my deadbeat ex. “Keep her safe, Jack. You hear?” I knelt in front of Hayley and took her hands. “I know, munchkin, but you have to. So the zombies can’t grab it.” So I wouldn’t be able to grab it.
Black curls fell to the rhythm of snipping scissors as I walked away from our makeshift camp, the bite mark on my arm beginning to burn.
END
First published in Black Hare’s Apocalypse anthology, December 2019
