Dead Lands Pass the Ammunition (7 page)

Twenty-eight of them.

Whoever shot me had left both of us as food for the God-damned monsters. I slid a thumb over the shotgun’s safety and worked my index finger into the trigger guard.  My gaze fell to Rabbit. His face had gone pale, but his eyes were open.

I counted down in my head.

Three…

Another broken twig. The wet crunch of damp leaves from last autumn.

Two…

I imagined the stale, rotten breath of the flesh bags on my back. My finger stroked the smooth metal trigger.

One…

I turned.

Three men had melted out of the woods and stood less than ten feet away, each of them pointing a crossbow at my chest.

“Don’t think about firing that damn gun.”

THE END

(for now)

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