Drabble: Mort sans Frontières – by Rob Francis

by specklit

Dr. Hausse gazed dispassionately on the shattered face of the man.

“Close range shot,” growled the sergeant. “Can you help?”

Hausse nodded. “I can glue the skull, stitch the flesh back together. He won’t be the man he was though.”

“Could he shoot a rifle?”

Hausse shrugged. “Sure.”

“Then do it. We’re getting slaughtered out there.” The sergeant stormed out.

Hausse sighed and turned back to the corpse. He had a suspicion he’d raised this one before, back in the early days of the conflict.

He lit a cigarette and wondered if it was too late for that second career.

Author’s note: Even life as a professional necromancer must get dull sometimes.

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