A second long-distance shot rings out. Holy hell - this time the bullet buries itself with a muffled thwack in the snow next to my hand.
My whole body jolts as if electrocuted.
"Fuck you, Ranec! I won't go back there!"
It's not enough just to survive any more; I want this freedom. I was built for it, made for it,
meant for it.
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Stories by L E Fryer-Stokes
Keylan
Thirty-three years after global nuclear war, and the Earth is still in the grip of nuclear winter. No-one kno...
