It was to kill Amber, and that was exactly what she intended do. Chris was wearing black leather pants and an old green army jacket with the sleeves cut off. A ten-inch hunting knife was sheathed on her left hip, and an original army Colt 1911 pistol was holstered on her right hip; she’d found it in a safe when she was scavenging through a garbage dump of all places. She also had the shotgun Rick had used so many times to help him stand; it now had a pistol grip, and the barrel had been sawed down to ten inches. Her hair was pulled back, and once more the sides of her head were shaved. On her arms she had a few new tattoos she’d done herself with a needle and thread. She had used ink that she’d mixed from old stationery pens. The first tattoo was simple: a heart with her and Rick’s initials on her wrist. The second was more complex: a barkentine, a wooden sailing vessel with three masts, just above her right hip. In the tattoo the ship was sailing into the wind. The ship represented the journey of her life, always challenging.
