The Distant Nightmare
The alarm did not ring. That was the first wrong thing. It was a Tuesday. I know this because the digital clock on the wall of the tactical operations center had just clicked to 04:12. The light was blue and cold, the kind that strips warmth from human skin. I sat in my chair. The leather creaked under my weight. It was a sound I had heard ten thousand times. It was the sound of my own body,...
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