Pain gnawed through William’s shoulder as he surveyed the carnage around him. Wiping the grime and gore from his face, he wondered if it had truly been worth it. The bodies around him weren’t those of soldiers, but ordinary folk. Just hours ago, this was nothing more than a sleepy little town nobody had ever really heard of.

That would change in the next few hours, of course, as news of the bloodbath would be plastered on TVs and computer screens across the world. By this time tomorrow, everyone will have heard of Beaver Creek Crossing. The curious will flock from miles around, desperate to determine what would make such a small, secluded town a target for brutality. Hotels accustomed to housing sleepy travelers will be taking reservations for well into the next year. The small diners will be forced to expand to feed the influx.

With a sardonic smile, William realized he had answered his own question. Sometimes you gotta get a bit dirty when you’re on the board of tourism and commerce.