Zippered Flesh 2: More Tales of Body Enhancements Gone Bad! by Weldon Burge

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As I’m watching, another two pairs of feet approach. I don’t think they’ve seen the tracks in the dirt yet, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s not like there’s anywhere else around here I’d be hiding. I try to stay calm and prepare myself mentally for the fight, working out which one I should attack first and which way I should run. Maybe running is the only option? Sorry, Adam, I think this is where we say our good-byes.

More importantly, going out into the open and watching those evil bastards being hunted down and executed was as close to revenge as he was ever going to get. And Christ, he needed some kind of revenge or retribution. Through no fault of his own his life had been turned upside down and torn apart. Like just about everyone else, he’d lost almost everything and he wanted someone to pay for it. The truck lurched forward, stopping just inches short of the back of the vehicle in front, then lurched forward again as the convoy began to move.

Could have been me…” I ignore him and keep walking farther into the clearing, following a narrow pathway between another two fifty-yard-or-so-long piles of death. Distracted, I lose my footing when I reach the end of the rows, and the ground suddenly starts to crumble beneath my boots. I fall back and find myself sitting on my backside on the edge of a vast hole, at least twenty yards square and deep enough for me not to be able to see the bottom in some parts. I know immediately what it is—a mass grave filled with an incalculable number of people like Adam and me.