FIRING SQUAD : Written + read by J Jack Unrau

Machine of Death

When I looked up from my plate, three young men were sitting on the other side of the rough table, staring at me intensely. None of them were very tall, but they had the tough look of mountain people. Their faces were purple from burst blood vessels -- or maybe it was makeup, I'm not going to pass myself off as some expert here. They wore heavy canvas clothes and long, filthy woolen scarves. When I finished my meal the one on the left spoke to me. "Do you know where we can get a Machine of Death?"