The chieftain held the pistol steadily angled slightly off, a conductor’s baton eager to assist the maestro in a last symphony of bloodshed. Von Junzt tensed but otherwise remained motionless. The Electric Book’s platinum cover was slick from the rain. It nearly fell out of his hands. Behind the chieftain stood his son, a child, but already wrapped in the furs of his kills. Von Junzt’s loyal friends, Armitage and Dr. Nelson froze, as the chieftain had surprised them while they were breaking camp. The three of them were the last civilized men on the continent, perhaps the world, yet the savage had bested all of them with simple cunning and brute instincts.
“You needn’t die Junzt.”
“It holds the means to stop the miasma!” Von Junzt roared with an intensity that surprised even him.
“The shaman spoke. It is evil.”
They froze, an eternity between heartbeats before the pistol spoke. Nelson fell first, a blossom of blood on his chest before he could reach his rifle. Armitage dived in front of Junzt, taking the shot meant for the book. Junzt dived to the side and took the third shot in his gut. The Electric Book fell between them. Before the Chieftain could dispatch it, a blade emerged from his chest. Too surprised to even speak, he collapsed.
Vont Junzt stared at the child. The boy simply pulled the blade from his father’s chest.
“I liked the stories it told me. Will you show me more?”
An innocent smile formed.
