Run (Part 12, End)
In a moment of wild desperation, David threw his Papaw’s knife at Death. It flew past her lamely and she didn’t bother flinching. She stepped forward onto his chest, forcing his breath out.
He didn’t have a chance to breathe back in before she took the shot.
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David’s grandfather lay on the hospice bed. The lung cancer would take him away in another day or two.
Almost inaudibly, he rasped to his grandson, “Davy, you make good choices for me when I’m gone, alright? Make your Papaw proud.”
David choked down a sob.
“I will.”