Emma screamed while the sickle snagged a portion of flesh that turned out to be an arm, but the shotgun blast she reflexively released knocked him and his sickle back a few feet before he could try to sever the limb. The dislodged blade produced another scream from his intended victim, who pumped the shotgun and spent another shell that hit him in the chest like a fireball.

Tom gasped, blood splattering out of his mouth at the pain. For a few seconds, he was dizzy.

Then, driven onward by the trembling in limbs that demanded they make themselves the instruments of death, Tom found his footing, he charged Emma.