two remained when silence fell. Butch and Sal left the safety of the tent,
taking in the horrors of their first battle. A woman they’d named “Savage” from
the onslaught lay in a pool of teeth by the ammo. The rest of the bodies
appeared to have been trampled on their way to the front, while others—so young!—had
failed to retreat and lay bleeding. Sal turned to her friend, who had weathered
the late November morning by her side. “Black Friday’s aren’t for the faint of
heart,” she said. Then, hand-in-hand, they left the sporting goods department.
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