![]() The rain had stopped, but the moonlit ground was still covered in a glimmering sheen of moisture. ![]() And somehow… somehow, Gabriel Schist was supposed to stop it. She had all the symptoms of the toxicity passing through humanity, turning live bodies into black-eyed corpses. She was just another unlucky victim of a plague that took no prisoners. Just last week, she’d had her hair permed and her nails manicured. ![]() Glenda Alvarez was sixty-three years old, young compared to the other residents. Her bedridden form emitted the stench of necrotic flesh. Her mouth hung open, and a pockmarked grey tongue dangled uselessly over her lower lip. ![]() Dark veins crawled over her body like wriggling snakes, pulsing with every unsteady heartbeat. Her skin possessed a sickly white pallor, as if it had been sucked dry of all its nutrients and hung up on a clothesline. The patient had charcoal-black eyes, hard and cold, as if rounded chunks of volcanic rock had been shoved inside her eye sockets. ![]()
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