The Sons of Adam: The Boy Named Nod - Collection 1
"Someone knew we were coming.
More than that, someone was using us to do their own job.
"Mr. Jonathan, get out here, double time. We're leaving."
"Already? But, you see, she's scared and a gentleman would..."
"I don't give a damn. Something's out of place and I won't be a sitting target."
Mr. Jonathan sauntered out of the back room, still buttoning his shirt. His eyes met mine and he snarled. His lip curled up, white teeth gleaming. His nostrils flared. Mr. Jonathan slid one of his straight razors from his pant's pocket and took a step towards me. He spun on that foot, ducking low, just in time to miss our waitress swinging at him with a fire axe. He brought the razor up and across her hickeyed throat. Her throat smiled red, a crimson water fountain. Mr. Jonathan was already spinning to the side beneath the spray of blood. He grabbed her by the back of the head and flung her back into the stockroom."
More than that, someone was using us to do their own job.
"Mr. Jonathan, get out here, double time. We're leaving."
"Already? But, you see, she's scared and a gentleman would..."
"I don't give a damn. Something's out of place and I won't be a sitting target."
Mr. Jonathan sauntered out of the back room, still buttoning his shirt. His eyes met mine and he snarled. His lip curled up, white teeth gleaming. His nostrils flared. Mr. Jonathan slid one of his straight razors from his pant's pocket and took a step towards me. He spun on that foot, ducking low, just in time to miss our waitress swinging at him with a fire axe. He brought the razor up and across her hickeyed throat. Her throat smiled red, a crimson water fountain. Mr. Jonathan was already spinning to the side beneath the spray of blood. He grabbed her by the back of the head and flung her back into the stockroom."
Rate of Decay: The Pallbearer - Collection 1
"The music started again. Different this time. More upbeat. Showy.
And something started through the breach.
"Jesus Neil, they're clowns."
Packs of them, claws scraping the ground, mouths overflowing with teeth. Painted white with cotton candy pink and blue polka dots. Naked. Snarling. Spittle-flecking their cheeks. Another fine product of The Black Symphony's hackwork bioengineering program. I pulled St. George from its holster on my back."
"Jesus Neil, they're clowns."
Packs of them, claws scraping the ground, mouths overflowing with teeth. Painted white with cotton candy pink and blue polka dots. Naked. Snarling. Spittle-flecking their cheeks. Another fine product of The Black Symphony's hackwork bioengineering program. I pulled St. George from its holster on my back."
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