Forty-five – 04

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

The first few drops of frigid rain spattered down against the wall as Thom retrieved his weapons from where he’d left them when he went out to treat with Pluton and his seconds. The chill of the rainwater was practically unseasonable, but then again, it was hard to determine what, exactly, seasons and their weather should look like now with the world the way it was. His heart thudded leadenly against his breast. Thunder growled in the distance and all he could think was at least the enemy would have to march in the mud if the rain came hard enough and fast enough.

J.T. appeared at his elbow, his face ashen and his expression stricken. Thom swallowed, grimacing at the sight.

“You think I did something wrong?” he asked his friend.

J.T. shook his head slowly. “No. No, I don’t think you did, actually. I just—do you—”

“A lord of the dead,” Thom said, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. “Yeah, I realized that, probably later than I should have. How did you know? The ghosts?”

J.T. hesitated a moment. “No,” he said after a heavy silence. “No, but I sensed it anyway. I don’t like this, Thom. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Do you think he’s got a dead army out there?”

A shudder ran through the former paramedic. “God, I hope not. I don’t think so. I think they’re all alive, but that brings with it a whole new host of problems, doesn’t it?”

Thom was loath to admit it, but his friend was right—a living army brought with it a vast array of questions, too. Questions like who Pluton and his ilk—who Olympium—had gathered to their side so soon after the end of everything.

And whether or not these are humans we face or something else.

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