The second entry in the “Shotgun Room” trilogy. For mature readers.

“A family with a tragic history tries to survive during a global food crisis.”

The world is a hard place: hard ground; hard life. We are all tethered by gravity. When the government officially announced the start of a new phase of food production, some people wished they could defy it and simply float away. No one was prepared for the food shortages, other than the Preppers; but they had bugged-out long ago, holed-up in their compounds with whoever they had decided to allow entry. Climate change had permanently affected crop growth and no new wheat was being produced. No flour; no bread. Milk was a premium reserved for those who still owned viable cattle and even then, reproduction levels had severely decreased and no owner was sure their herd had been affected. It was simply too soon to tell. That was the consensus from the Men In Suits: “We are still working on a solution to the problem, and we assure you that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the future survival of mankind.” The broadcast from one of Virgin Galactic’s completed shuttlecraft took a week to breach the atmosphere and by then, the chaos had already run its course. Crime in the major metropolitan areas was at an all-time high. Seniors and the weak either starved-to-death from isolation or were home-invaded for supplies, or worse. The titular shotgun was stolen from the hospital and used in a shooting spree. There were even reports that some had resorted to cannibalism, as more-and-more half-mangled bodies with teeth marks and handkerchief-thin slices carved out had been popping up all over the city. An alternative had to be found, and it wasn’t Soylent Green.