The Pale Meridian
The hail struck the fence with the force of small stones, a relentless, percussive drumming that vibrated through the rusted iron into Elias Thorne’s spine. He was pinned against the wire, his shoulder blade screaming in protest, while the young man he had been chasing for the last three miles slipped through a gap in the perimeter, his face a mask of terror and defiance. Elias was forty-five,...
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