35

A deafening roar fills the bar as both barrels of a Browning Citori GII shotgun are discharged almost simultaneously. The heavy loads rip through the front of the counter and hit you in the side, spinning your body with the numbing force of their impact, and dislodging most of the rickety shelves that line the wall. The last thing you see, as darkness descends, is a jumble of bottles and glasses cascading towards your face.

Your life and your journey end here in Cross Plains.