The dark hardware store stockroom was perfectly open to the moonlit commotion holding the city in a vise-like grip. Shutting the door was a much more reasonable idea for someone hiding out inside, but Dune hadnât quite had enough of the fun yet. Like this only single opponents curiously wandered inside, and lighting them on fire took no time at all. He couldnât tear them to pieces like this --- the makeshift flamethrower would have to work.
After a long period of no motion whatsoever, a head poked in the room. Dune couldnât hear well enough to distinguish footsteps over the much louder crashing and screaming from places outside, but his eyes were suited enough to the dark to see that the woman wasnât as jerky as the shamblers. He lowered the tampered-with lighter and the can of WD-40. Halfway.
âYouâre human, right?â asked the boy sitting across the topmost metal shelf near and above the door. If she wasnât possessed, heâd put them down completely.Â
@cxmandius













