American Apocalypse Wastelands by Nova Page B

cut.
    She held it up in front of his face and screamed, “Rape this, you cocksucker!” She shook it in his face, walked past him, wound up, and threw it into the creek. If he hadn’t gone into shock a minute ago, he certainly had now. His eyes rolled back until all I saw was white, and he went down like a clear-cut tree.
    I turned to Ninja. “You see what she just did?”
    He nodded.
    â€œThat just wasn’t right,” I said
    He looked at me surprised.
    â€œYep. She should have put a hook in that worm before throwing it into the creek.” I grinned at him and winked. He didn’t get it at first. I shook my head and started toward Max, who was looking at the bow.
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    Night knelt down to comfort the woman. I held back. I didn’t think she needed another man in her face right then.
    Ninja had disappeared in the few seconds I had my back to him. Damn . I looked at Max and turned back. I figured Ninja was puking his guts out in the bushes.
    The woman got up and looked at the dead man with the arrow through his neck. She screamed again, a much higher-pitched scream. She took three steps to her clothes and the holster, bent over, and came up with the gun.
    Time froze.
    I saw Night open her mouth, the word “No” forming, as the woman took the pistol and inserted the barrel into her mouth. She pulled the trigger and dropped.

    I moved quickly to Night, who had frozen in place. I think I heard Max say, “Shit.” I knelt down next to Night, holding her close.
    â€œC’mon, honey. We need to go.” She resisted at first and then stiffly got to her feet. I kept my arm around her and turned her away from the woman’s body. I started walking her to the creek.
    I heard Ninja scream, “You motherfucker!” I looked back. He was standing over the body; in his hand was one of his shirts. He had gone to get the woman something to wear.
    I didn’t have time for him. That was going to have to be Max. I could feel Night shaking. I started talking to her. Nothing much. Just a string of “It’s going to be okay. It’s alright,” as I led her away.
    Max moved toward Ninja. But of course it wasn’t over. I don’t know if it was death throes or not, but Fat Boy started twitching like he still had some life in him. Whatever it was, it didn’t last. Ninja walked up to him, pulled out his handgun, and removed the top of his head.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    We didn’t have time to deal with emotional issues. Max got us moving. I realized later that it was the only sane way for regular people to cope with dispensing and seeing others suffer violent deaths. You had to get busy; keep your mind focused on the present—and the next moment.
    I wanted Night away from this. She didn’t need to see it. At the same time, I held her next to me, making physical contact, trying to quiet the shaking that convulsed her.
    We heard Max yelling, “Night! Night!”
    She pulled away from me. “Yeah, Max?”
    â€œGet your ass over here. We got work to do!”
    She paused and glanced up at me, looking for something. To this day I don’t know what she expected—or wanted—to see. Whatever it was, I don’t think it was there.
    â€œComing!” she yelled, heading toward Max and the bodies. I stood there watching her walk, shrugged, and followed her.
    We walked back to where the stink of death was already drawing flies.

    They always came: the big, fat, black flies. The kind of flies that crunched and squashed when you swatted them, leaving a nasty little stain.
    You never saw them until blood was spilled or the latrine got its first load. Then, like magic, they appeared out of nowhere. I imagined their maggots hanging in clusters, like grapes in secret places, where they slumbered until the right smell called them forth. Then, they would burst free and, like ugly butterflies, they would take wing and follow the scent.
    I hated flies.