The monsters were coming.
Ramona had grabbed every pistol and rifle she could carry and twice as much ammunition as a sane person ever needed, leaving behind an IOU and an apology to the departed gun shop owner. She might be able to take on an elephant.
But the monsters weren’t always stopped by bullets. She’d watched one on TV get up after an anti-tank missile. She needed something stronger.
The local Wal-Mart was still open: out of water, out of food, but open. She headed for the gardening section.
Armed with the biggest weed torch the store sold & two tanks of propane, Ramona finally felt properly armed.
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