Despite their generous efforts, nothing could lessen my feeling of impending loss. A knock at the door startled me. It was ten-thirty at night and eve...yone in my family had departed long ago. I got up hastily, walked quickly through the tiny living room and galley kitchen, and swung open the heavy wooden door. The soft light of the hallway illuminated dusky blue carpet. No one was there…not even a mouse, I smiled to myself. Perhaps one of the other residents of the Alzheimer’s section had. Those assholes might still be around."Finn nodded, opened the bag, and pulled out a stubby .32 caliber Smith and Wesson J frame. Two of the bullets were spent. He found a speed loader in the bag and traded the empty shells for fresh ones. "Hope these little guys still work." He snapped the revolver's cylinder into place with a single, skilled movement. Together, they pushed their way through the raging storm, weapons extended, until, more than an hour later, they reached the mine's snow covered. More

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