By James B. Carter

“Hold her down!” said the man in the military coat.

The teenager was trembling. “I don’t care if she is a zombie, rape is wrong!”

“Boy, maybe it use to be, but not here, not now.”

“But doesn’t she have a soul?”

“Nope, anyway, even if she did God stopped watching a long time ago.”

The boy looked up at the yellow and orange flame filled sky, choking on smoke carrying the stench of death.

“Once I’m done, throw her on the pile with the others.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll soon put you on that pile… boy.”

“So be it.”

About Russ Thompson

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