It belonged to a place where people hurt each other out of malice, need for vengeance, or selfishness. Human beings wrought unmentionable cruelty upon one another long before the dead rose and the world went to shit. We hurt each other and then, later, in the comfort of our beds, our homes, our churches, we prostrated ourselves and begged for forgiveness. Some never knew guilt. Some reveled in the shit storm we’d made. Some thrived on adventure and risk and lawlessness. I was not one of them. ~ The thing which had been Big D jerked as my shot tore through its lower jaw and neck. Even from five yards—especially with my shaking hands—I hadn’t made a clean hit. The body lurched and stumbled, collapsing on the packed earth at the camp’s threshold. It hit with a solid sound, the whump of something big and heavy and wet. One arm curled and uncurled in swift, involuntary spasm. A thick, black goo oozed from the remnants of its neck. Two cataract covered eyes spun lazy orbits. Was it looking at the crowd gathered, searching for old friends’ faces?
What do You think about Dead Lands Pass The Ammunition?
