In the middle of the field stood a covered wagon, its canvas stained and yellow. As raindrops fell, a cloaked man crossed the prairie, carrying one glass jar in each hand. He pulled back the cover and hoisted himself up into the wagon. A woman lay on some blankets to one side. On the other was a long, makeshift table with various glass jars and bottles, some of them with steam rising. Next to them were small wicker cages- one containing a large frog and another housing an assortment of large black beetles. The man pulled back his cloak, revealing sunken cheeks and intense, staring eyes. He knelt beside the table and set down the jars, making notations in a notebook. The woman rose up slightly from the blankets. “You don’t have much time, Emereck,” she said. “I know Sara,” he replied. “But watch this.”

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The first thing I’ll tell you is that you’re doing everything wrong. Leaving your mother and I snowbound in this freezing mansion is not going to protect us from our many enemies- it only gives them a convenient barrel to shoot us in. Sure, none of them know where we are now but it’s only a matter of time. Your mother stares out the frosted window every morning across the dunes of snow- she’s waiting for them!

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Brad lay against the wall in the alleyway, blood flowing from a huge gouge in his chest. Blood trickled from his mouth and down his forehead. Amy dropped down to her knees and threw her arms around his neck. He couldn’t look at her or really move any more. He just held her tightly to him with his bloody hand. When he died she jumped up and rushed back through the back door into the pool-hall.

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