The Faded River
The weight of the rifle, a Lee-Enfield No. 4, was fourteen pounds of walnut and steel, a burden Elias Thorne had carried for twenty years until his hands knew the balance of it better than the weight of his own wife. He counted the seconds between the cracks of the machine-gun fire, one, two, three, a rhythm that had kept him alive through the mud of the Somme, but today the count faltered, the...
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