Tribulation

Six two, two eighty. Late forties. Looked like he could fuck some shit up. Big bad motherfucker with a black leather jacket, an afro, and a SAW M249.

He opened fire.

Rounds tore into it. It opened its mouth. My forearm tumbled out. The thing roared and howled like a cage full of burning animals. It wriggled off of me. It went after my rescuer. He sneered and dropped the machine gun, pulled out a machete.

I blacked out.

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