Grace Lost Read Online Free PDF Page B

his head blown
off and now splattered on the window to our left.  The mass of skull,
brain, and hair seemed to be suspended, and then slowly made a trail of black
ooze as gravity caused it to slide down the glass until it finally dropped out
of sight.
    Another gunshot momentarily
deafened me, this time coming from Boggs’ gun. The naked woman was hit in her
bare shoulder and fell to the ground, landing in a contorted manner on her
side. She twisted her fallen body and stood again.  She began to walk away
from the store seemingly interested in something new.  A fourth figure
emerged, holding a shotgun aimed at the woman.  The sky had darkened and
rain began to fall heavily as the sky flashed white.  The sound of the
shotgun firing was echoed by that of thunder as the woman’s body dropped once
again, now minus the top of her head. She didn’t get up this time around.
    “Boggs!” I screamed.  The teenager was inside the store now
and moving toward us.  His snarls and moans were met by thunder, and his
stench mingled with that of fresh rain meeting oil on the long-dry summer
pavement.
    Boggs lifted the handgun and
looked down the sight.  Another thunderous gunshot and the teenager stood
still, no longer advancing.  There was a black hole in the middle of his
forehead.  His body slumped to the mat that was meant to catch debris from
shoes.  He was finally at rest.
    We watched as the man with the
shotgun moved toward us.  His weapon was lifted toward the sky as a sign
of intent to do no harm, and it was clear by his speed and agility that he was
human.  One of us.
    He was in his late thirties or
early forties, I’d guess, and dressed in jeans and a button up shirt.  On
his hands were fingerless black gloves, and he was topped by a black felt cowboy
hat.
    “Zoe, put your hands up so he
knows we’re not a threat.”
    I did as instructed, following the
stance Boggs took.  The cowboy came to the door, his hands also
outstretched in a human gesture.
    Boggs called out to him through
the door that still stood propped open by the fallen teen.  “We’re
human.  There are two of us.  Don’t shoot!”
    The cowboy returned the greeting.
“I’m coming in.”
    He crossed the threshold to the
store, stepping over the body of the dead teenager.  His shotgun held in
his left hand, he extended his right toward Boggs.  “Name’s
Gus.”  The cowboy smiled, and lightning struck in the
distance.  “Nice to meet you.”
    Boggs took his hand, shook it
once, and replied with a curt “Boggs. Adam Boggs.”
    The cowboy tipped his hat to
me.  “Ma’am.”  
    I was shivering, and not quite
able to find my voice.  Boggs answered for me.  “This is Zoe.” 
    The cowboy looked from me to
Boggs. 
    “We’re together,” added my friend.
    I looked at Boggs, not quite
understanding why he’d added that.  He returned my quizzical look with one
that suggested I be quiet and step closer to him.  I did both.  The
cowboy named Gus licked his lips and the new aroma of distrust mixed with that
of rotten flesh and fresh rain.  He turned and slowly walked to the counter
and leaned against it, his gun still lowered.
    The cowboy broke the awkward
silence first.  “Is it just the two of you?”
    “Yes,” replied Boggs, whose arm I
now clung to.  “How about you, Gus? Are you
alone?”  Boggs still held his pistol, now aimed downward toward the floor.
    “I had picked up a migrant worker
on my way north, but those damn things had bit him at some point.  I had
to shoot him when he died and came back.  So yes, now it’s just me.” 
He paused for a thoughtful moment.  “I saw your SUV parked out front. I
was hoping to hot wire it since my truck broke down.  But then I saw those
bastards trying to get in here.  I figured someone alive was
around.”  He shrugged his shoulders and sucked snot up his nose.
    I felt Boggs’ stance relax just a
bit.  “Thanks for helping out with those two.”   He tipped