It was a miracle that people had managed to survive this close to the Rifts for so long. That’s what the preacher said. Eric looked over the warped houses, patched up with God-knows-what and occasionally seeming to move, and thought there was probably a better word for it. No one in their right mind lived on the front lines.
And here I am, he thought.
Gunshots broke him out of his thoughts. West. Eric signaled to the men behind him. They moved out, too quick to be silent.
They found the preacher’s body in front of a large house. His gun was three meters away.
“Search the area!”
Eric’s men spread out. He and Lt. Carver approached the house. The preacher had gone on ahead to talk to the residents. Stupid. The house’s door had a black X painted on it. The windows were painted over. Marked.
“We need backup.”
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