<blockquote><div><cite>Dream Evil wrote:</cite>Terrence came upon the wounded man and immediately placed the gleaming barrel of his revolver against his temple while he grabbed for his rifle.<br/>&amp;quot;Let go of the gun or be splattered,&amp;quot; such a crude thing hadn't been uttered from his throat for many years, not since his adolescence, but it worked.  The rifleman immediately retracted his hand.<br/>He was young, much younger than Terrence expected.  He would have been no older than fifteen.<br/><br/>He was shaking with fear, white as a sheet.  &amp;quot;What's your role down there?  Who killed those people?&amp;quot;  Terrence demanded.<br/>With a shaking, stuttering voice, he replied, &amp;quot;They came out of the night...with sticks of fire they scorched us all.&amp;quot;<br/>Terrence picked up the boys rifle, &amp;quot;Firesticks...like this?&amp;quot;<br/>The boy shook his head, &amp;quot;They spat flames like a wand.&amp;quot;<br/>&amp;quot;A flamethrower?&amp;quot;  Terrence asked, but the boy didn't know.<br/><br/>&amp;quot;I want to go down there, I need to see them...there might be survivors!&amp;quot;<br/>&amp;quot;There's nobody,&amp;quot; Terrence replied, &amp;quot;They're all dead, you don't want to see them.&amp;quot;<br/>&amp;quot;Fuck you!  Take me down there!&amp;quot;  <br/>&amp;quot;No,&amp;quot; Terrence replied, as he pulled the trigger, ending the boys life there, &amp;quot;At least you'll get to Heaven this way,&amp;quot; Terrence replied with a mutter.<br/><br/>He turned back to Sara, an expression of dejected depression on his face.  <br/>&amp;quot;They were armed with Flamethrowers, whoever did this.  And this boy was too young to have been born before the fall.  The men and women of this village were fertile.&amp;quot;  Terrence walked past her, it was no surprise or secret that this had troubled him deeply.</div></blockquote>