PREVIEW

... arm, wet and brutal, like pounding a watermelon wrapped in rotted leather.

Blood sprayed up my arm, half-congealed and thick with black veins. The body crumpled, convulsed, and then stilled, its head twisted at the wrong angle.

"Two down," I muttered, scanning the yard. "How many more?"

The train depot was a goddamn maze. Cracked tracks, rusted rails, overturned cargo cars. Some containers still had old shipping logos barely visible under scorch marks and splattered gore. ...

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