Rain falls heavy; roaring thunder echoes through the ominous clouds. My vision is now tainted by the unforgiving weather. I cling my pistol tightly to my chest. Only three bullets left. There is no hiding from them. They stagger around using their sense of smell. Probably the only sense that is truly intact in the living dead. They wander aimlessly through the dark, wet scene before me.

Carnag...

She wants to know his secret. He hasn’t decided what it is yet. Is it something he senses, but can not picture? A past trauma he swore he would forget that constantly dwells in the depths of his tortured mind.

His dark eyes are pleading and his palms start to sweat. Perhaps he has so many secrets he can’t pick just one. “Tell me,” she whispers under her breath. He turns his face away from her ...