This time last year he was sleeping it off on friend’s couches, owed twenty grand to people who would send nasty letters if they only had an address, and another ten to people who wouldn’t bother with letters. Not to mention a warrant out for his arrest on charges of battery in the state of Kentucky.
None of that mattered now. He’d quit drinking first off: had to stay alert to stay alive. The walled town needed good riflemen, and he could shoot. For the first time in his life he felt good about himself, like he had a purpose.
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