The Pale Path
The radio clicked. Static hissed like a live wire. "Unit Four, do you copy?" "Copy," Marcus said. His voice was flat. Dry. He sat in the driver’s seat of the unmarked sedan. The engine ticked as it cooled. It was a small sound. A metal sound. "Status report, Marcus." "Clear. House is empty. No signs of forced entry. No signs of life." "Negative on life?" "Negative." The line went dead. Marcus...
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