A is for Apocalypse, C is for ... ?

What do you get when you take a bunch of writers, assign them each a letter of the alphabet, and give them complete artistic freedom within a theme? The end of the world, of course.

A is for Apocalypse, a new anthology released this week, is filled with 26 stories by writers whose diverse styles and themes provide something enjoyable for every discerning reader. Here's the opening to my story "C is for Coyote" – a Mercer tale:

They all said he was crazy. Dangerous. Maybe they were right. But I had to find out for myself.

Nine months had come and gone since Mama passed, and the ache inside me hadn't dulled at all. I still woke up every morning expecting to find her on the cot beside mine. Empty every time. Had been a long while since it smelled anything like her. More often than not, her pillow lay wet with my tears.

"Where you think you're going, girl? Past curfew." Hartley blocked my path with a sawed-off shotgun at rest against one shoulder. "You know better."

"Bring you back a coyote." I tapped the crossbow slung over my shoulder. "Grill it for you myself."

Hartley licked his lips. Some who knew him from way back said he once weighed a hundred pounds heavier. Hard to believe. As it was, he outweighed everybody else in the compound. Stood taller, too. I might've been intimidated if I didn't know he squealed like a piglet when you tickled him behind the ears.