I saw this middle aged couple having difficulty getting something in the backseat of their little sedan. I watched them struggle for several minutes. Pushing, jamming, pivoting.

I debated offering help. But I stayed away. I don't like to meddle.

But I was also raised better than that. My parents encouraged me to help whenever possible.

I approached them and asked how I could help. They smiled curtly and, between grunts of exasperation, said no.

I insisted. They defied my attempt more emphatically.

I decided to just move in and help. I maneuvered my way to the door of the car and immediately wished I hadn't.

In the backseat was a man. With a bleeding hole in his upper chest. His skin a sickening shade of storm cloud.

My eyes widened at the realization as I turned around to face them.

That's when the cudgel swung down and struck me square in...