“Want some, Daddy?”

Jeff’s daughter held the can out to him. It was their last.

“No, baby. You finish.”

The girl spooned another peach into her mouth. Dribbles of sweet juice cut clean streaks down her filthy chin.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Will you be sad when I die?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jeff glanced at the festering black bite mark on her arm. The infection was spreading.

“Because you’ll come back,” he said.

“Like Mommy did? As a monster?”

“Not a monster. An angel.”

“And you’ll still love me?”

Jeff nodded, then tightened his grip on the gun in his pocket.

“Always.”

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