The Distant Ghost
The signal on your handheld radio crackles with a static that sounds too much like breathing, a low, rhythmic hiss that vibrates in the marrow of your teeth as you stand at the edge of the timberline, the Pacific Northwest fog rolling in thick enough to swallow the world whole. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a border patrol agent with twenty years of service, and you have spent the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews