Death

The dream broke.

Becca heard a voice. Through the cocoon, the glass and the liquid. Outside.

-Stop it.

The pumps reversed, the pink fluid draining from the coffin. The Amazonians opened the coffin.

The thin woman’s hand reached in. Gloved in blue latex.

It held a scalpel.

-No, Becca thought. Her mind clawed at Art’s. She pulled him in closer inside her. Don't let them.

-No, Art thought back. He screamed inside her.

The scalpel sliced through the wet gauze, ripping the cocoon open. The fluid poured out.

The Amazons reached into the sludge. They grabbed Art’s shoulders. They grabbed Becca’s hips.

They pulled.

-No, Becca screamed as they pulled her head off of Art, his fluid still pumping wildly, the Amazons and the thin women ducking to dodge it.

The thin woman grabbed a syringe, lunging under Art to stab him with it. Tranquilizer. A second stab for Becca. The room spun, then streaked, then vanished. They collapsed onto each other and into the void.