Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 1

As the purple light grew stronger, I could make out only a few footprints that remained in the dissipating snow. I had no way of knowing who they belonged to. As Old Rufus and I approached the gate, it reminded me how this was already our second journey.

The first started nearly the same, and not long ago. This creature had been there, nearly from the start. As it would happen, I was lucky to have him by my side.

I looked to him, but Rufus still had his head hunkered low, he was sniffing the ground intently. We were now within a few hundred yards of a weathered door, giant wooden planks sealed by a large metal brace and rivets that looked almost modernistic. Together they formed an ingress as big as the entrance to an airplane hangar.

The door was surrounded on both sides by the perimeter that the gate formed. The gate itself seemed to stretch into infinity in opposite directions. Directly surrounding the entrance, the snow had either been disposed of, or had melted away, as it was nearly non-existent. Tundra grass and dirt were exposed in countless patches and tufts.  Flanking the door small bushes, devoid of leaves, begged to be put out of their misery. To look at them was to know they had been burned. Except for one curious thing, a speckle of green couldn’t hide even behind the scorched bushes. It was a pine bough, fresh enough to still have it’s scent. Preasus?

As soon as I had noticed the pine bough Old Rufus seemed to as well. He darted forward. When he did this, I heard a shout from above. My eyes followed the noise, up and up for seemingly forever. Until I saw a dot of a man perched in a tall turret.

“Restrain the beast. And tell me, what business do you have here?” the voice was steady, and I noticed the man speaking had drawn an arrow from a quiver upon his back. It was primed and rested taught in his bowstring.

“Rufus, come back here.” Old Rufus unconcerned about the archer, lazily returned to my side. “Don’t shoot! Err, don’t fire. My name is...well my name isn’t important. I followed a man here, a umm, a villain!”

The man in the tower hollered, “Keep your sights on him. I’m going to meet him.” Then he disappeared out of sight.

It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to me. My eyes followed his gaze. There was a second turret, again with a platform at its apex, on it was another archer, this one a woman.

“Call reinforcements. Don’t move stranger.” the woman shouted down. Her lip curled in a smile. She seemed to be thrilled to have something to aim at.

“Do you want me to hold up my hands?” I shouted up to the woman.

She shrugged, “If I shoot you, I’m not going to shoot you in the hands.” I pondered this for a moment until I heard a horn sound from within the walls. It was a single long note. The machinery behind the walls groaned and squealed. Moments passed until I heard the mechanisms of the great door being swung open.

When it finally was moved aside four men and another woman greeted me. By greeted, I mean they all gazed at me with dour expressions. I waved, and Old Rufus wagged his tail with minimal effort.

The lot of them had swords, except for the first archer who pushed past the crowd and spoke, “You stated you followed a villain here?”

“That’s right.”

“What did this villain look like?” said a bulldozer of a man with a broadsword at the ready.

“Umm, blonde hair, long, in braids.”

The archer spoke again, “This man is your enemy?”

I don’t know why but I laughed, “You could say that.”

The group narrowed their eyes at me. The female archer, still atop her post yelled, “You want me to shoot him?”

My entire body flinched at the question.

“Not yet.”

“Yet?” I asked.

The archer spoke, “The man with the braids was caught in front of our walls a short time before daybreak. He was covering his footprints with a branch. Sort of the behavior that inhabitants behind the wall might find suspicious. Don’t you agree?”

I nodded.

“Much like the fact that another stranger shows up just after we’ve locked him up. Again, odd don’t you agree?”

“Wait a second,” I raised my hands, begging off.

“Shoot him.” the archer commanded.

Before I could argue any further a white light lit up my right temple, and my vision went black. The last thing I heard before I fell to the ground was, “Get the dog.”


TO BE CONTINUED!

Window Shopping : Kingdom Without a King- Prologue

The wind was cruel, it attacked me from all sides. Likewise, the snow crept higher along the sides of my borrowed boots, the same time as it crunched beneath them. The snow was no longer falling, but from the looks of things, it had came quickly and heavily, not much earlier. The temperature was crisp, cold, and well below freezing. Although, unthinkable, I ignored the elements.

Although, I had been doing the unthinkable for at least the past twenty four hours. I had befriended an otherworldly dog/wolf hybrid. I met some very interesting people who I learned nothing about despite being interrogated by them for hours. I was kidnapped. I stole a dead man’s boots. Oh, and that reminds me, I am at least partially involved in a murder perpetrated by the aforementioned dog/wolf thing. And in most unbelievable fashion, I had transversed dimensions, or worlds, or something.

To be fair, I didn’t really know what I had been doing. It was entirely possible that I may very well be passed out in my basement after drinking too much. But it all felt so real. I guess that’s what all the nutcases say.

Anyway, despite all of that I still felt compelled to leap through yet another window. This was to go after a guy that is nearly twice my size, and seems to be well versed in the art of getting what he wants from people, by any means necessary. Oh, and he has way better hair than me, it’s kinda long, wavy blonde, with these cool braids…

...But I digress. And that’s not why I followed him. If I’m being honest, and I think I am, its because I’m bored. And leaping through interdimensional windows (or whatever these things are) beats real life. I mean at least until wake up from this dream world it will at least provide a distraction.

Next to me, trudging through the same snow was Old Rufus. He was hard to see due to the absence of light. Yet the faint lupine shape seemed to be blacker than the darkness that surrounded. We both scanned a horizon that was barely discernable. The difference with Rufus was that occasionally he would glance at me, his eyes piercing the night. They seemed confident, like he knew where he was going, which was more than I could say for myself. I imagined his line of sight radiating out before us, as though his field of vision were casting high beams. It made me feel better about the journey, and was a way to distract from the cold. Inside another part of my head, the fanciful gave way to the analytical.

Is this pup following Praesus’s scent? We should be seeing footprints right? Wherever this guy Praesus was headed he should be only a minute or three ahead of us, and leaving behind a trail through the snow. Right? Was he supernatural? This thought made my stomach twist in a quick, but lurching knot.

I left these thoughts and returned to the real world. To our right was a faint light in the distance. It peeked in a hazy dark purple that broke against the blackness. But the shape was not reminiscent of a moon, or sun. It was a slash, one that cut a jagged swath across the flesh of the sky. As my eyes adjusted to the new, yet weak light, my brain also adjusted to take in what I was seeing.

Ahead of us was an outline, barely visible thanks to the strange new light in the sky. I had read enough fairytales as a child to know that the silhouette before me was that of a castle. Old Rufus turned to me and grinned in that panting smile that canines have. He then faced forward, lowering his head, hardening himself for the rest of the journey. His body language seemed to hint that once we arrived at said castle our work would just be beginning.  

Window Shopping Part 6

The ride to Praesus’ compound was a rough one, my head lobbed harshly as my neck struggled to control the constant jolting. On the plus side, I was given a spectacular view of the countryside from my abstract angle.

When we stopped, the man who had apprehended me, ripped me from the horse after dismounting himself. For him, the act was accomplished with little exerted force. However, I hit the ground with much more of it than I’d have liked. I looked around, but didn’t see where Praesus or the other men might’ve went.

As I wobbled to my feet, hands still clasped, the man looked at me, kneeling slightly. “You didn’t squawk on the way here, so can I trust you to walk?”

I eyed him, saw no firearms, at least none that were visible. Instead, I now noted he carried a leather quiver and simple recurve bow upon his back. The fletching of his many arrows could be seen plainly due to his lowered posture. “Ya, don’t suppose you’ll tell me why I’m here?”

The man smirked, ran a calloused hand through a beard that was just shorter than the one Praesus wore. “Well, one of two things; either you’ll cooperate...”

I notched my eyebrows in waiting.

“Or you’ll die…now walk.” he pointed ahead of him, just past a sandstone wall that was taller than two men. There was a small archway ahead of us, I entered and he followed.

I turned to see two men operating a large sliding door via a pulley system. It was a creaking hunk of wood, but it was massive. In seconds the entrance was blocked.

As I placed one foot in front of the other, I wondered to myself. Wondered about what this was, where this was. But mostly, I wondered about why I wasn’t at all afraid. I had been transported, accosted, captured ineptly, captured expertly, and now threatened. Through none of this, save for my interaction with Old Rufus, could I recall being frightened one bit. Which, now as I contemplated this fact, made it all the more odd. The one thing I was frightened of here ended up being thus far, the friendliest creature towards me.

We continued to walk and I saw just how much more “advanced” Praesus’ compound was than where Helena and Thaddeus called home. There were turrets manned by more archers at each corner, they cut into the evening sky. The two most distant spires cut imposing shadows of black against an orange-pink sky. In the center of the yard was the main building, it had two posted sentries flanking a large double door. There were no windows.

I began to veer towards it when the man behind me shouted, “Nope, not our destination, keep going.”

I returned to my path, and we walked to the very back of the compound. In the fading light of day we stopped. I saw nothing. “So what? I don’t see where we are going?”

“Right,” the man said sourly, while pointing.

I turned, now making out a faint outline in the dirt. I could see a handle sticking up as well. I looked back at my captor.

He nodded, so I pulled on the handle, doing my best to balance and use the needed strength to get the hatch open while my hands were tied.

“Down.”

I peered into darkness, thought that I could barely make out steps as the last bit of daylight retreated from the sky. Doubtful, I hesitated.

“C’mon, now you’ve done so well up until now. Don’t make me throw you down them.”

I marched ahead placing my hands against the wall to steady, with no small amount of trepidation, my feet felt out where to land. Slow, as we went, I could hear the soldier’s boots clapping on the stone behind me. I was wary, but as I made my way down the curved staircase, I could see the everglowing sign of a torchlight. The dim orange light reminded me of the setting sun in reverse, and before I knew it I found the staircase opening up into a large room.

There were thick pillars running floor to ceiling in each corner, the massive individual stones could be made out despite their age.  In front of each of these were metal stands, each containing a lit torch. The flames made the room warm, but the smoke was escaping to somewhere. I frowned a bit at the thought of escape.  I couldn’t quite place why the thought forced a frown.

“Thank you Draeus, stay close, but you may leave him.” My captor nodded at the silhouette which strode towards me from the far side of the room. It was quite obviously Praesus.

He addressed me, his already commanding voice boomed even more within the chamber. “I don’t have time to mince words, so I’ll make this short.” he had removed his duster and battle garments from the waist up, and had on only a rough chambray shirt and trousers. His right hand was behind his back, and his left hand held a large dagger upright, making certain I could see it plainly.

Praesus walked towards me stepping in and out of the firelight as he walked in front of three large cylinder shapes spaced equally in the centerline of the room. They were large, about ten feet by three feet wide, and they were draped in separate long, purple cloths that each spilled over just slightly onto the floor in front of them.

“This world is doomed. We are out of resources, our food, water are nearly gone, diminished by a combination of cataclysmic floods and fires,” Praesus nodded his head and smirked, “But I suspect you already had knowledge of that. Therefore, I need you to open them, make them work so my people and I can escape.”

“Make what work?”

“The windows,” Praesus neared the last cylinder- closest to me- and yanked the purple cover off the shape, it billowed to the floor.  

There before me was my basement.

Well not my basement exactly, on the revealed stone cylinder hung a window, much like the one I had stepped through hours ago.  A neat little scene showed my basement.

I smiled, but then forced the look from my face. “I’m afraid you got the wrong guy. I don’t know how they work.”

Praesus seemed not to hear, and instead of responding he about-faced, and walking briskly back across the room, tore the remaining two purple shrouds from the cylinders. With the dagger, he motioned me to join him.

“Stop,” he said when I reached the second cylinder, “Is that your world?”

I looked, and saw a second window. This one’s scene showed a snow covered place. I saw no signs of life in the small view I was offered.

“Hmm, I didn’t think so, surprise in your eyes. Come to the last portal.”

I did as instructed, the last view was pitch black and I immediately noticed that the window, and its glass had been scarred by a large slash across its facade. The frame formed a gaping maw, severe teeth had been made by the jagged glass.

“Make it work.”

“You’re not listening to me. I am here completely by accident.”

Praesus flashed the dagger, “The first portal is your origin?”

I didn’t speak and yet he knew.

“Walk to it.” Praesus grabbed my hand and pushed me back to the other side of the room.  When we stopped he asked, “If one steps through, can one come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Praesus growled, “Stop the lies, open it.” He used the dagger to free my hands.

Dagger now at my throat, my hand reached for a copper latch. Then we heard another growl, this one not from Praesus. It was immediately followed by a howl.

The latter was human, the former was not.

Praesus looked to the darkened stairwell, “Draes?”

At first, Praesus began walking towards the dim stairs alone. He reconsidered, and instead grabbed me by the arm once more, dragging me behind him.

Praesus peered into the darkness. Then the darkness leapt at him.

The dog that Helen had referred to as “Old Rufus” appeared as an extension of the shadows. He growled, knocking Praesus to the ground. The dagger clattered to the floor. Wrenching my hand free I scrambled trying to retrieve the weapon.  

Now looking more ferocious than I remembered, Old Rufus sunk his teeth into Praesus’ flesh, gripping the very hand the man had first tried to strike him with. Praesus writhed on the floor, grunting but not screaming.

I scooped up the dagger and ran to “my” window. The latch was just out of reach as I heard a yelp and a man scream No in dramatic succession.

Before I could step through, a heavy hand clapped my shoulder and wrenched me backwards. The momentum caused me to reel sideways, and I somersaulted across the floor, losing the dagger. I stood in time to see Praesus rush towards me, there was nothing I could do, the man collided with me, and then forced a quick knee into my gut. Gleeful to the point that his voice raised an octave, he screamed, “Not so fast.” He pressed me up against the window, and I felt cold numbing my back. “We’ll just see what happens when someone goes through this portal.”

I tried to wrestle free, but he was so much stronger. He bent me to his will with two rapid punches to the temple. Quickly, stars rushed into my field of vision, obscuring most everything else. As I attempted to dodge, the last thing I saw was the still outline of Old Rufus. This frightened me.

I held up feeble hands in a last ditch effort to fend off Praesus. I swung once, twice, three times. Not only missing, but not knowing how close I was to even hitting the man.

Praesus punched me again in the stomach and I crumbled to the floor trying to will the breath back into my body.

Then my eyes hinted at a large shape looming before me. I heard the window’s latch being opened.

I couldn’t gather the strength to get up. I was finished. At this rate Praesus would just toss me into the frozen wasteland I had previewed earlier, and watch as I succumbed to the cold.

I began to try and crawl away, Praesus seized my legs.

I looked back, my vision clearing enough to see the man had given up some of his balance in order to grab me. He was leaning forward, right in front of the open window. I could feel a bitter and frozen wind swirling around the room, the torchlights reacting hysterically, swaying wildly and then going out.

Just as my vision returned, the room went black. I heard another growl and then a heavy thump onto a pad of nearby snow. The window banged shut, stopping the freezing wind instantly.

There I sat in the dark knowing that Old Rufus had sacrificed himself for me. I sat knowing that I had traveled to another world, or dimension or something. I sat knowing I needed, wanted to get home. I also sat knowing that I could explain none of what happened rationally.

But I was not frightened for myself. I was frightened for Old Rufus.

I stood slowly, carefully plodding to the first window, my window. My right foot scraped past the handle of the dagger. I picked it up. It didn’t feel as big in my hand as I might’ve thought it would. I felt along the floor until I was at the window that had moments ago shown my basement, my home. I hoped even in the dark it was still there.

I reached for the latch, and inexplicably the torches came back to life. Suddenly, the room was alight with fire once more. I saw my basement, the gateway that would bring me back home, back to normalcy.

I began to open the window’s clasp.

I sighed, as I pushed it shut, fastening it back into place. I was rewarded briefly with a hint of that earthy-wet smell, of which every basement carries a slight odor.

I sighed again as I grabbed the nearest purple cloths. I was still sighing as I fashioned it into a makeshift robe, tying it off around me when I was finished. I even had the forethought to search out Draeus' corpse at the top of the stairwell, and made use of his boots. Through the window the snow had not looked inviting to my bare feet.

I was done sighing when I returned to the middle window. Even closed, I could still feel the frosty wind trying to assault me. I opened the latch and stepped through.

THE END?

S.A.M.C.R.O.

“I’m tired of being crushed under the weight of greedy men who believe in nothing.”

- Jax Teller, Sons of Anarchy

The Walking Dead made me a zombie. Breaking Bad got me addicted. But Sons, Sons invited me to be part of the brotherhood.

From the above I suppose you can tell that I am a fan of those niche television dramas that have a cast full of characters that you are primed to love, and then you are forced to watch die off in excruciating ways.

It's hard to say what’s attractive about that. Perhaps it is akin to that Haruki Murakami quote; “Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come.” Maybe in some strange way watching these small worlds on television implode due to greed, violence and the fallacy of humankind is darkly appealing.

I am now on the cusp of finishing this series via Netflix (Oh praise the streaming gods!). And yes, I realize I am about 3 years behind everyone else, but that’s my preference. No bandwagons and no commercials. I can also hear most of you screaming, “How can you write about it if you haven’t seen the ending?” Simple, because life’s a journey, not a destination. And I’ve know that the final episode is not the way to judge a long running series that’s brought me such high levels of entertainment. In other words, I’m not hanging my entire opinion of the entire show on however the last episode turns out.

For me, Sons had a great deal of things I liked; human drama, Chibs, and even a Stephen King cameo. Most of all it had characters that weren’t typical. I hate rooting for that white-washed hero that has no self-doubt, nothing to hide, and no scars. I like the characters that walk the line, and more to the point, sometimes feel that they need to roll up their sleeves and move the line themselves. I also like a good “villain seeking redemption angle” (à la Meryl from TWD). SOA had many rich characters that did both those things, sometimes those two traits were rolled into the same character. I enjoy that dichotomy within a character’s moral fiber- that battle of what they feel needs doing versus that which they feel is just. Both major and minor characters alike seemed to have at least a spark of that written into them on SOA. Which makes it extremely hard for a guy like me to hammer down a solitary favorite character. But that’s a damn good problem to have.

I know rumor has it that there’s supposed to be a SOA prequel in development and a potential spinoff centering on the Mayans MC, and I will definitely be interested in those if they come to fruition. Not only interested, but I won’t be waiting years after the shows air in order to watch.

However, until then I do have the last episode laying in wait. And as I did with Breaking Bad, I will procure an appropriately themed bomber of a fine craft beer, get comfortable and see where the MC’s last ride takes them...

Utility Part XIII

Warren tried to squirm, and generally make the search as difficult as possible.

Franklin motioned for Wes and Jason to stop what they were doing. He pulled Warren close and whispered in his ear.  Immediately, Warren’s struggling stopped.

“It’s a miracle.”

The three men meticulously turned out every pocket that Warren had on his clothing.

Sam couldn’t help but ask, as the remainder of the group looked on with curiosity. “Well what’s the verdict?”

“No key,” Jason replied.

“Well to be fair we didn’t search any body cavities,” Franklin turned to Nurse Van, “Are there still any rubber gloves in the nurse’s station?” he punctuated the statement by winking at Warren.

Warren’s whole body visibly tensed, eyes widening in a brisk display of fear.

“So he’s innocent?” Amy asked.

Wes wanted to head off that conclusion. “He may not have the key, but he’s definitely not innocent.”

Jackie, sounding frustrated, “Then who has the key?”

“I don’t know.” Wes rubbed his hand over his forehead.

Sam perked up again, “So what do we do with him?” nodding to Warren, “Let him go?”

“No!” Wes warned.

“Yes!” Nurse Van said at the same instant.

Wes, “Van? C’mon!”

“You can’t held him like that Wes, as far as the keys are concerned he’s not our guy.”

“But room 124…” Wes realized his statement didn’t hold much weight.

“Circumstantial, and without the key to prove he’s got bad intentions, you don’t have much to go on…”

“So we vote again?” Jason tried to clarify.

Franklin mimed a yawning motion, and peered at a wristwatch on his right arm that wasn’t there.

Wes, deflated, “Yes. All in favor of releasing Warren?”

Nancy, Jason, Jackie, Nurse Van, and of course Warren all shouted “Aye”. With some trepidation the stragglers of the group glanced around. Thoughts of being in Warren’s shoes must’ve dominated their thinking for after a moment Sam, Bernadette, Amy joined the aye camp.

Following a heavy sigh, Wes concluded, “There you go, opposed vote not needed.”

Franklin casually hefted up Warren’s wrists, removed a dagger from the satchel on his side, and cut the zip tie in twane.

“What about getting them off my wrists?” Warren complained.

Franklin just shrugged, tucking his knife back in the satchel.

Without speaking, Warren eyed the entire group, as he rubbed at his hands he then stormed from the cafeteria.

“What now?” Jason inquired.

“Now, we get on with the problem of your infestation in room 124.” Franklin redirected.

Wes watching the doors where Warren had exited from, “I still wanna know who has that key. And you can’t collect your fee if we can’t get to our food resources.”

“True,” Franklin conceded. “But I’ve got no fee to collect if we don’t do the work first. We’ll have to cross that bridge afterwards.”

“What’s the plan?” Sam asked quickly.

“Toss one of your sticks of dynamite under the door?” Nurse Van offered.

“Believe me I’d love to,” Franklin smiled, “but that could compromise the perimeter of your building since room 124 is on the outer edge of the structure. No sense in cleaning up the zombies in there, if we’re just gonna leave a opening for others to come in.”

“So what then? I don’t want to get near those things.” Amy clutched Sam’s arm at the thought.

The group looked to Franklin, with his smudged sweat-streaked face paint as though he was some kind of subject matter expert on the undead.

“Controlled chaos.” Franklin answered. “We have two person control the door. Two people doing ‘crowd control’ up front, one with a side arm. Someone with a blade. The door’s wide enough for two at a time. We get two others to work backup in case there’s overflow or…”

“Or what?” Jackie asked plainly.

“Or any of the children wriggle through any extra space by chance.”

Jason winced at the thought.

“When do we do this?”

“I’d vote now. Wes, we just need you to figure who’s doing what.” Franklin stated.

“No,” Wes corrected, “We volunteer, and if that doesn’t work we vote, or draw straws. Who wants to step up?”

Nurse Van and Jackie stepped forward. Wes nodded. Sam too raised a hand, followed by Bernadette.

Amy could be seen mouthing the words, “Please be careful” to Sam.

Franklin spoke up, “You know I’m in.”

“Thank you all. Ok, so Sam and Franklin you two will handle the door. Bernie and I will run back up. Van, Jackie if you two don’t mind?”

“Not at all, in my view we’re making it right.” Van said.

“Giving them peace, yes I agree.” added Jackie. “Where do we get weapons?”

Franklin grinned broadly, “I expect these back at the end of the adventure.” He handed Jackie the knife he used to cut Warren’s zip tie, and Nurse Van a Glock 9mm. The two women eyed each other briefly and then traded implements, they both nodded.

At the door the group lines up, the same intense look carved on their faces; adrenaline mixed with uncertainty. Franklin nods, and the group readies their weapons, and gets into position.

Wes looks to Franklin one last time  before they begin, “What if-”

“What if this just all goes to shit?” Franklin offers, to Wes’s nod. “Then we run as fast and as hard as we can back to the cafeteria and barricade the doors, come up with a plan B.” Franklin looks to the other group members, “Got that?”

They nod, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

“On three, Jackie you give the count.” Franklin instructed.

Muscles tensed, jaws clenched, the group readies themselves. In the rear, Wes and Bernadette, armed with two hunting knives from Franklin’s bag lined up in their best defensive stances. Franklin and Sam dug in just to the side of the door, Franklin’s hand gripped the handle, waiting for the count. And lastly, Jackie and Nurse Van tried the best they could to stay loose up front.

Nurse Van could see the black-rotted teeth and grey mottled skin of one of the zombies. He pressed his mouth against the small window, gnawing at the thin glass pane. A primal growl worked its way up from the thing’s throat. It sounded both desperate and otherworldly.

“Whatever happens don’t stop swinging.” Jackie reminds Nurse Van.

“You got it. You take left, I’ll take right. Any get out of formation, call it or knock them off balance to feed them back to Wes and Bernie.”

As uncertainty threatened to overpower the silence, Jackie began her count in a deadly serious tone, “1...2...3!”

Franklin pulled back the door, as Sam helped him steady it against the weight of the dead. It didn’t take long before the bodies began to jostle and knock against it. Sam and Franklin held strong.

Jackie saw the full face of the lead zombie she had previewed through the window. It was a young EMS technician. She didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his brain. The report of the Glock was powerful in the tight hallway, and Bernadette jumped at the sound.

Nurse Van reared back and slashed over and over with her knife. Thick black streams of half congealed blood streamed through the air. The sounds of flesh tearing was offset by the nearly rhythmic discharge of the pistol in Jackie’s hands. The two women could’ve been mistaken for battle hardened combat veterans, the way they methodically dispatched every decayed face that was put before them. In fact, things were going perfectly. It seemed the haphazard plan to remove the scourge of room 124 was destined to be successful.

That was until Warren, sporting a deranged look upon his face, appeared behind Wes.