Originally posted on Scagsdale's Tales:
Cynthia stood outside the gate, in a daze, crying out to be let in.
“Look at that dress. It’s not hanging right,” Jane said, as she walked over to Frank.
“Major Hobbs, that woman has a suicide bomber’s vest on under that dress,” shouted Private Jones.
“Let me in, please!” cried Cynthia. She started to lift her hands, but one of them stopped at about waist level.
“There’s the detonator,” Jerry said, pointing. Then there was a loud shot, and Cynthia’s hand exploded, flesh and blood and black plastic and metal flying everywhere. She fell to her knees and cried.
“Who shot?” asked Major Hobbs.
“Jeb,” Frank said. “What do we do now?”
“Sometimes those vests are booby trapped….you try to take them off, and kaboom,” Jerry said.
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” the Major said. He was thinking, trying to shut everything else out.
“What if we just…
View original 3,151 more words