The Pale Door
The manifest weighed four pounds, three ounces, and a single breath. Elias Thorne held the sealed canister against his chest, feeling the cold metal press into the sternum, a dense weight that anchored him to the truck bed as the tires spun uselessly in the snow. He was thirty-two years old, a border patrol agent with twelve years of service, and he had exactly six hours of daylight left to...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews