Ever since I got here, I have been on guard. What I eat, what I drink, what I breathe. It is scary as hell. Panic, I tell you. It was panic. You would have, too. You see you would have been awakened at night by that bump against the house. The dog barking at three in the morning. The sound of the pump action shot gun forcing a shell into the chamber. It was an alarm that we heard. You would have heard it, too. First a neighbor down the street. Or someone you went to church with or the lady who wore the netting around her short-cropped hair at the kids’ school cafeteria. They were dead. Just like that. Then a cop and a minister and the head of public works. Gone.
From The Perfect Food by John Crawley, johncrawleybooks.com. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.