The Pale Fracture
Hold the line. Do not look at the sky. The order came from the mouth of Sergeant Halloway, a man whose lips moved in a rigid, mechanical precision that belied the terror in his eyes. Behind him, the trench was a jagged scar of mud and rusted wire, the earth packed tight by weeks of rain that had never quite stopped. The sky above was not blue, nor was it grey; it was a pale, sickly white, the...
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