Bullets spew like locusts.
I duck to reload.
Dead slump down behind me.
I shoot everything I’ve got, save one last bullet meant for me.
“God save us.”
Silence falls.
It’s time.
I put the gun against my head.
But screams of desperation come shrieking through the dark.
Who’s their victim this time?
My friend, my comrade, the last of my platoon.
They’ve doused him, he’s soaking, and the torch is coming closer.
He struggles, but he’s tied.
I cannot watch him burn.
So I do the best thing I can think of
I put my bullet through his head
--- You should have seen my Mom’s face when she came home from the Christmas party. The kitchen counter was completely cleared off, every...
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