The Distant Ghost
The mud sucked at the boots of Sergeant Elias Thorne. It was a thick, black paste that smelled of rot and rain. He pulled his foot free. The sound was wet. A snap. He did not look down. He looked forward. The corridor of the bunker was long. The light was dim. A single bulb hung from the ceiling. It flickered. Dust motes danced in the beam. They were the only things moving. Elias walked. His...
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