The Creepers (Book 2): From The Past - Plot & Excerpts
After more than twenty years, here he was. After his world had been annihilated, obliterated, and forgotten, here he was, still fighting. He battled not out of survival or instinct. He fought for belief, wearing his uniform proudly, neat, even covered in viscera. She silently cheered him on, but knew it was unnecessary. He would not fall to them. She watched him work the edge of the pit, always in motion, never in the same direction, a little clockwise, pulling the horde, then counter. He moved in measured steps and applied just enough force to drop them, and then he went to the next, conserving energy. He purposely pulled the fresh ones first, leaving the paper targets for the end. He always struck at the temple, horizontally, never down—a quick crack, sending shattered bone into the delicate brain matter. Brutally beautiful. Moya stirred in the saddle as she leaned over for a better view. The ropey muscles of his forearm glistened with sweat, flecks of blood, and bone hung from his hair, but he never wavered in his mission, in his belief.
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