Winter In July
WINTER IN JULY
Kirby Yates was having the worst day of his life.
He slammed to a stop at the base of the building. He could just see the screaming siren
enclosed in a cupola. He jumped from the pickup, pulled the
M-16 with him. He aimed. EEEEEEOOOOOO At what for sure he didn’t know.
EEEEEEOOOOOO. Just give the deranged thing a burst. EEEEEOOOOOO
He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. It wasn’t cocked!—“Aaaaarrrrggggg!” He gritted his
teeth, locked and loaded, jammed the gun back into his shoulder and pulled the trigger again, and
thought he actually saw bullets jabbing through streaking orange morning sunrays, then heard
He kept the trigger pulled.
Until the clip was empty.
Silence. Deadly, ear-splitting.