I shake my head as the images of a mud covered part of France dissolve to be replaced by the sight of the two small boys covered in blood and with the hilt of my knife sticking out the chest of one of them. No Germans, no trenches, nor roar of rifle, machine gun, and artillery, just two small very dead boys.
As I look horrified, a familiar voice sounds in my ears and a hand grasps my shoulder.
Previously Alyssa said: "Help me here Texas," |
"For a moment there I thought you were someone else. She had a habit of calling me 'Texas'"
I take a deep breath and drop to my knees, looking around.
"Scott!! I guess we'll be needing your bag of tricks after all"