Friday Night Drabble Party!
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Now, on with the Drabble!
Every Last One
Hill threw himself behind the wall, his left hand scrambling at his belt for an extra magazine, the slide locked back on his Beretta for the third time that night.
Hill’s hand continued to scramble.
“No,” he whispered as he looked down at his waist to see he’d already used every last magazine. Every last one.
He rested the back of his head against the wall. Hill knew he couldn’t outrun the men on his tail. And a bullet in the back was no way to die.
A shout. Hill nodded. He stepped away from the wall and said goodbye.
Disclaimer: Face you fear!