The Golden Crossing
The paper was thin, cheap, and smelled faintly of vinegar. Elias Thorne held it up to the grey light filtering through the asylum’s high, barred windows. It was a requisition form, signed in the jagged, erratic script of his superior, Colonel Halloway. The form authorized Thorne, a Sergeant in the military police detachment assigned to the facility, to retrieve a specific ledger from the...
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