“Your… aggressor… is not dead… I need to question him.”
Nothing about that statement made any sense, then again neither did black blood, moving faster than a speeding bullet, or fangs. He was tempted to question further, but there was resolve written on the officer’s face.
“You have your orders, Sergeant,” the Captain said while pointing the way which curiously happened to be the precise bearings to take to get back to his lines.
“Yes, Sir,” Murphy said.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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