The Rune (1.5)
After much soul-searching, I have decided to write a few short stories, unrelated to the other works, before continuing on with the next of the Shadow Wolf Sagas, just to keep it fresh. As always, this is raw and uncut; enjoy responsibly.
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Everything seemed to happen at once. Amy with the mohawk leveled her gun. I ducked. Then gun went boom, a sound that erased all others, making my eardrums scream. I felt the hot flash of the reaction spilling from the muzzle of the weapon… and something else. I saw the word ‘death’, written in runic, and felt it too, as the bullet whizzed by incomprehensibly fast. It was like there was two of me, one, the normal guy who can’t read the side of a bullet, and another tucked away inside to whom that tiny fraction of a fraction of a second was just not that much of an obstacle to a good read.
It was intense, like orgasm or eureka, one of those moments so singular that everything else seems to melt away so you can focus. I would not soon forget it.
The bullet with the word flew over my shoulder. I was far to slow to see the impact, and yet somehow I could trace the path of the projectile as if I was riding it. Then it hit something, there was a screech, and the word ‘death’ became ‘DEATH’, a sentence invoked and executed.
My focus faded. Amy with the mohawk stepped past me, snarling, gun still raised. I turned and saw my first Groaner.
