Over the next few hours, Kane mutely swerved between abandoned cars, continuing on 78 West until just past the Newark airport. He took 22 south from there, with a bit of backtracking to go around blocked sections of the highway. Hillside had been mostly picked clean over the past decade, but he had previously spotted a street that did not have the “cleared” mark painted at the crossroad. Taking this turn, he soon saw the cul-de-sac he had been searching for. He pulled into the first driveway he came across, then drove around to the back door.
As he retrieved his katana from the back seat and got out of the car, an eerie silence descended. Not good, he thought, and his senses went into overdrive. He unsnapped the strap that held his CZ in place and slowly unholstered the pistol.
A shadow on the second floor captured his attention, but it was gone before he got a good look at it. He watched the windows for any more signs of life, but none presented themselves. Ascending the steps of the back porch, he discovered the back door was locked, so he withdrew his EZ lockpick kit, raking it in the lock a few times before he felt the bolt release. Slowly he opened the door, checked the room, and crept through the house, clearing it room by room. The sense of being watched never faded, and upon entering the last room on the second floor, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He came upon a giant mass laying on a mattress placed on the floor. It rolled over as he approached, and he found himself looking into the pitch-black eyes of an enormous pig.
“Just about ready for slaughter,” said a high-pitched wheezy voice from the corner.
The beast on the mattress gave a mighty squeal, as if it understood the words the man had spoken. It had to be close to three thousand pounds, and the stench threatened to overwhelm Kane’s senses. Discarded food packaging and half-eaten meals created a thick layer of rotting debris on the floor around the mattress.
The strange man in the corner got to his feet, and Kane saw that he looked completely human. The old man seemed to stare through him as he nodded towards the mattress.
“We moved out here eight years ago, Gezabel and me,” the old man wheezed. “We never got into that sinful mutation garbage—much like you, I see. We went to church every Sunday, and we were happy. Gezabel had always been a large woman, you see, but I loved her anyways. Every morning, she would cook us a big breakfast with a double helping of bacon. Geza and me loved our bacon.” He smacked his lips loudly before continuing. “One day, we went to get our rations at the local grocery store, but they were out of bacon. The price had been going up steadily for years, you know, but we just kept buying it. So after a few months without bacon, we hatched a plan.
“There were only a few pigs left at the local farm, so they were trying to build the population back up before they started slaughtering them again. We packed up all our belongings, broke into that farm, and stole one of the pigs, so we could have us some bacon. The pig didn’t like being in the truck much, and it was still making a ruckus in the back seat when we made it to the gate. That poor young man was rightly confused when we told him we was just taking the pig out for some fresh air. He had started to radio for backup when I leaned out the window and clocked him hard on the head. But I didn’t know there was a second guard, and he started shooting at us as we passed. It had just been so long since we had eaten any bacon you know? So long…”
He mumbled under his breath for a moment, but as Kane shifted his feet, the old man’s head jerked up, and he continued his story.
“We made it through the gates, but they had shot the pig in the back seat by accident—and Geza too! I was so furious I was seeing red, but we had to keep driving, lest they catch up to us. The pig wasn’t making much noise anymore when we found this house back here. Geza was crying louder and louder throughout the entire trip, and by the time I got her in the house, she wasn’t looking very good. She was bleeding out, and she knew it.
“She begged me to cook her up some bacon, but we couldn’t find anything to cook with, so I just sliced some strips off of the pig as it was dying. It screamed and tried to get up, but it was too weak. Well, Geza gobbled it down—and then she began to transform. She was groaning something fierce as her skin grew pink and her nose turned into a snout. So, I gave her some more. She was dying anyway; what harm could come from it now? She ate and ate, and about halfway through, the pig died, but she just kept eating it anyways. I begged her to stop, but she got so violent…” He began mumbling under his breath again.
“I wanted some bacon too,” he grumbled, half to himself. “But soon, ol’ Geza here will be ready—and I will finally get me some bacon. I’ve got everything ready for the feast!
“Six years ago, those men with the spray paint had enough supplies in their trunks to feed us for a long time—and Geza said the men tasted just as yummy. She began acting more like her old self after those meals. She even started talking to me again! But a few months ago, she got sick, and she hasn’t gotten out of bed since. I think if she doesn’t get some more food soon, she might give up on me before the feast.”
Kane shuddered at the gleam in the old man’s eyes as he seemed to appraise him. “I have some supplies I’d be glad to share,” Kane said, backing slowly out of the room. “Just let me run down to my vehicle and grab them for you.”
With a sneer, the old man gave a sharp whistle, and a skinny, grubby rat-boy burst out of the closet in the hallway.
“Get him, Tommy!” barked the old man.
Then the boy was on him, grabbing his leg and biting through his blue jeans with needle-sharp teeth. Kane went down, taking the boy with him, and they tumbled down the stairs in a snarl, slamming into the lower floor. There was more light down here, and Kane could now make out that the boy was covered in short, wiry hair from head to toe, with a pink, wormlike tail sticking out from what looked like an old pillow case that he was wearing.
Rolling over with a groan, the boy latched onto the closest thing to him: Kane’s left hand. Kane tried to jerk his hand away, but the teeth sunk deep into the flesh around the base of his pinky.
The old man was laughing from the top of the stairs as he looked down on them. “For a six-year-old, he already has my fiery spirit! Geza was so happy when Tommy was born. We ate the afterbirth together to celebrate, and we munched on Tommy’s umbilical cord for dessert. We had never been happier. Times got hard for a while after that, but I found a nest of rats across the street, and after Tommy ate them all, he was able to help me with the hunting. He’s been getting faster and stronger day by day ever since.”
As the pair struggled on the floor, Kane was finally able to get his feet under him, and he stood up and punched Tommy in the stomach. He did not want to kill the boy, but he had to do something. As the punch landed, Tommy’s jaw tightened in pain, and Kane heard the boy’s sharp teeth click together as he toppled to the floor.
Looking down at his mangled hand, Kane gave a strangled scream as he noticed his missing pinky finger. Desperately, he glanced around for the pistol he had apparently lost during the fight. Rolling to grab it, he fired blindly over his shoulder towards the top of the stairs as he scrambled out of the front door.
The old man slowly followed after Kane, as he ran around the house, from up on the wrap-around porch, cackling with glee. “You’re gonna eat good tonight, Tommy! Man flesh is a very tasty treat. Me and your momma really enjoyed it the last few times we tried it!”
Kane made it back to his SUV in the backyard just as the sun hit its zenith and began it slow fall towards the horizon Holstering his pistol, he reached behind the driver’s seat for the first aid kit, procured a packet of coagulant, and dumped it over the stub of his finger with a muffled gasp. Then he used the pain to clear his mind and focus.
He barely had time to react as Tommy flung himself at him and wrapped him in a hug, sinking his teeth into Kane’s shoulder. Kane delivered several powerful body blows to the boy’s ribs, but the thick fur just absorbed his punches. In desperation, he bit down on the soft flesh of Tommy’s left rat ear. Without warning, Tommy tore himself free, flung himself backwards, and elbowed him in the chin, and Kane convulsively swallowed the chunk of ear.
Kane collapsed to the ground, head swimming, but he did not know if it was from the impact or the overwhelming surge of energy now coursing through his body. His severed finger began to regrow before his eyes. His vision became sharper than ever before. His teeth ached and popped strangely in his mouth. His spine cracked as he felt his back elongate by a few inches. With inhuman speed, he sprang to his feet and looked around wildly.
The boy was crouched a few feet away, ear bleeding profusely, head comically cocked to the side like a dog. Kane’s own ears twitched as he detected shuffling footsteps in the house that could only belong to the old man, who had gone back inside the house during their scuffle.
“Leave us alone!” the boy cried, startling Kane back into focus.
“I don’t want any trouble,” said Kane, raising his hands to show the boy that they were empty.
“Shut your mouth, boy!” Tommy’s father barked as he exited the house, carrying a poorly-maintained pump-action shotgun, which he pointed in Kane’s direction. Kane immediately drew his pistol in response, pointing it at the old man.
“NO!” screamed Tommy, throwing himself between the two, armed men. He turned to Kane. “If we let you get in your car and leave, will you promise to never come back or tell anyone about us, mister?”
“Shut up, boy!” the old man repeated as he slowly took the three steps down from the porch and came into the yard.
Kane tensed as he looked between the boy and the man. “I can agree to that, if he can,” Kane said, nodding his head towards the old man.
“Papa, this man is different than all the others we’ve watched. And he tastes funny,” the boy added.
With a look of shock, the old man glanced at Tommy. “When did you learn to talk so good?”
“I been reading—but that ain’t important now. We need to let this man go, or there’ll be trouble.”
“I’m warning you, boy, nobody gives me orders, and you don’t know what you’re asking. Your momma needs to eat this man’s meat to get better, or she’s gonna die ’fore it’s time.”
“Time for what?” demanded Tommy. “You keep talking ’bout this big feast we’re gonna have, but we haven’t found any food for weeks!”
The old man looked away nervously and began to stutter.
Kane cut in. “He is planning on eating your mother, Tommy.”
“Shut up, stranger!” Tommy spat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Right, Papa?”
The old man did not make eye contact, glaring at Kane instead.
“… Right, Papa?” Tommy pleaded.
“So what?” the old man said quietly. “We will eat like kings for years, Tommy! Don’t you see, it’s what your Momma would want! No more hunger. Just an endless supply of bacon…” Once again, he smacked his lips.
Before Kane could blink, Tommy was on him, sinking his teeth into the old man’s jugular. With a deafening boom, the shotgun went off, and Tommy flew backwards, landing in a heap a few feet away. Kane rushed to Tommy’s side, but the boy’s eyes were already glossing over.
“Momma…” The small child whispered as he shuddered, then lay still.
Kane slowly got to his feet and walked towards the still-sputtering old man, who was trying to raise the shotgun. Kane kicked it aside. He looked down at him coldly and watched the last bit of life drain from his eyes. Steeling himself with gritted teeth, he reentered the house and ascended the stairs. A few minutes later, a lone gunshot rang out through the cul-de-sac. Then the silent figure of Kane slowly walked out, climbed into his vehicle, and drove away as the sun continued its inevitable journey through the sky.
. . . . .
Two days later, Kane was out driving, still trying to process everything that had happened. At the end of the day, after scavenging the rest of the neighborhood, he had gone back to bury Tommy. But there was not much left in the area that the old man had not acquired. He was able to fill a few bounties for small items that had little value except to those asking: a first edition of Moby Dick, a wooden rolling pin, a poster of some band he had never heard of, and some videos games for Harry. He had another rat in a cage behind the seat, squeaking at him warily. He had walked right up to it, and the curious rodent let him pick it up. He would probably wind up letting it go, but he really needed the money.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
After he finished scavenging the cul-de-sac, he had gone back to the house as he debated whether he should bury the old man too, but in the end, he just carried him up the stairs and laid him next to Gezabel on the king mattress. He rummaged through the house for a bit, but all he found was a box of shotgun shells, which he placed in the back of his SUV with the old man’s pump-action shotgun. He painted the road at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, switched his engine back to gasoline, and treated the gas cans he had found with stabilizers and additives in an attempt to salvage them. He also found a few other promising places, but they wound up being empty.
Coming back to the present with a glance in the rearview, he put Hillside behind him, deciding to try his luck in Cranford. The SUV had just exited onto Garden State when a bullet thudded into his driver’s side door. He floored it—which was exactly what they expected him to do, so he did not see the spike strip until it was too late. As all four of his tires blew out, he opened the door and rolled out of the vehicle before it had even stopped moving. They were not expecting this part, and he was able to draw his CZ and put down two of them before the others could even react.
They opened fire, and a spark of excitement flitted through his mind; finally, a chance to test out his new skills! He located three more shooters as he ducked behind the water barrels beside the road previously used by the two he had already eliminated. Scanning their weapons, he saw nothing that would interest him … but as long as the blood pooling around dead guy number one stayed clear of the feet of dead guy number two, he would have a nice new pair of boots.
He drew a bead on a broad guy with antlers, but as he lined up his shot, one lizard-like thug unfurled a set of dragonfly wings and rose into the air, rendering his cover useless. He collapsed to his belly and rolled under his vehicle as a few more shots thudded into his roof. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he focused on the man with the antlers and blew out his ankle with a well-placed shot, putting another bullet in the guy’s skull as it bounced off the asphalt.
“Two left,” Kane said to himself.
“Fucking Christ!” yelled the thug that Kane was looking for, unwittingly giving himself away. “He killed Eddie!”
Locating the source of the voice, Kane quickly rolled out from under the car and sprinted towards the nearby gas station. Bullets made craters in the ground behind him as the dragonfly-man hovering above him tried to follow him with his AK. With an audible click, the AK’s slide locked back, and Kane dove around the corner of the building, knocking the gun from the hand of the man hiding behind it. He spun around just in time to see the dragon-lizard guy trying to reload while hovering. Kane put two bullets center mass, dropping him out of the sky.
He swiveled back to the remaining lone thug, pointing his still-smoking CZ as the frog-man bent down to pick something up. The man froze, giving up on the attempt to pick up the fallen sidearm. Kane twitched the barrel up a few times, indicating for the man to stand.
“How many are at your camp?” he asked calmly, already knowing the answer.
“F-f-fuck you, man!” he stuttered.
Kane lowered the barrel a bit and—BANG—shot the marauder in the leg.
“Aaaaahhh! You fucking shot me, man!” croaked the frog-man.
Kane laughed at the sheer hilarity of the statement, straight out of any cheesy action flick. “Do I need to ask again?” He gestured at the other leg.
“Five hundred of us is staying in the old mall ups the road.” The man barely got it out through his gritted teeth.
Kane raised his eyebrow and slowly cocked the hammer back.
“Forty!” the thug gasped with wide, bulbous eyes.
“That’s more like it,” Kane said with a smirk, spinning his gun around so that he held it by the barrel and popping the thug on the side of his green head.
Back at the SUV, Kane hauled out his map and found the old mall the thug had mentioned, so that he could plot a course...
He sensed it before he heard it but did not have time to think about how much he was beginning to enjoy these new mutations, as his heightened senses went back into overdrive, he crouched down, then peeked around the water barrels.
“Damn,” Kane whispered. A pack of wild armadillo-wolves was sniffing around the corpses of the men he had just slain.
With a sigh, he returned the map to his pocket and unsheathed his bowie knife. There were six of them, and he did not have time to reload. Not to mention they were armored, and he feared he would not be able to drop them all with the bullets he had left. He had to try dispatching a few with his knife and throwing blades; his katana was still in his SUV.
Kane crept carefully from cover to cover, not making a sound. But as he came around one of the barricades, he came face-to-face with a seventh armadillo-wolf. Their eyes met. He dared not move or even blink. He just stared into the intelligent eyes of what had to be the alpha; it was bigger than any of the others.
With a grumble that he felt in his chest and bones, he sensed a massive beast coming around a decaying pickup truck to his right that made the one he was staring at seem small. He must be looking at the alpha female, clever girl. Eight armadillo-wolves. He had survived worse over the years, but this was going to depend heavily on luck rather than skill. He slowly lowered himself onto his stomach, without breaking eye contact. Taking a risk, he then closed his eyes and rolled over on his back, showing the alpha male behind him his vulnerable belly.
He was not prepared for the sight of the huge armadillo-wolf, and he drew in a sharp involuntary breath as his eyes grew wide in shock. It leaned down and sniffed him curiously—a good sign, at least. It chuffed at him then, dismissing him.
The colossal, armored wolf leaned down, picking up the unconscious thug with ease. Poor bastard. I should have just killed him, Kane thought as he continued lying there, letting the female sniff him too. She finally dismissed him as well and went over to the dead dragonfly-lizard thug, dragging him towards the woods from which they had stealthily emerged.
“There go my new boots,” he mumbled as he watched the pack disappear into the woods, dragging the rest of the dead thugs.
A few hours later, after scouring nearby parking lots to find replacement tires, he finished loading up all the supplies, weapons, and ammo the thugs had stashed in the area. Then he pulled his map back out to finish plotting a course to the mall as he climbed into his SUV.
He stopped two miles from the mall and hid his vehicle before scouting the area around the massive building. The sun was going down as he updated his map with his findings. This discovery would be worth a good deal to Mitchell, who would get a force together to come take care of these marauders, and then Kane would get a portion of all the stuff they scavenged form the mall as a reward.
He decided to give Cranford a wide berth for now, until Mitchell and his crew were able to get rid of the thugs in the area. So, he begrudgingly got back on Garden State for a bit and got off in a place called Winfield. He struck gold there, spending the next few days emptying out neighborhoods that were off the beaten path. He even trapped a Pure raccoon that looked as if it was not even a year old. Animals were not as skittish this far out from the city; he guessed that they had just forgotten that humans were a threat, given the complete lack of fear the critter had shown when he caged it. He never had this easy of a time catching animals. As Kane contemplated this, he loaded up the last of the scavenged items and decided to risk a short nap by a stream he had discovered before he started the long trek home.
. . . . .
He stopped a few miles outside of Newmerica and switched his SUV back to EV mode. The battery and the motor on the roof whirred to life, and he was still confused at how far technology had progressed even though the modern world had all but ended. He watched the sky for any startled birds that might indicate the movements of a horde. More importantly, he kept an eye out for the family of eagle-rattlers that had been terrorizing this area over the past few weeks. They had escaped from the Bronx Quarantine Zone aviary a few years ago after killing half a dozen workers, and they had taken up residence in the hills on the outskirts of the city. They had multiplied faster than most considered possible, and the bounty on each head was four hundred dollars apiece.
With no signs of life, he started towards the Holland Tunnel in hopes of sneaking back into the city with no more surprises. It was just after two on a Friday afternoon, and he was thinking about what a beautiful day it had turned into when a storefront window at the end of the street exploded, scattering glass and debris into the street. He could see the Holland Tunnel tollbooth in the distance, and Kane considered trying to floor it past the titan that stumbled out of the store. As he inched forward, the monstrous mutant glimpsed the SUV. Kane set his jaw as he reached behind the seat to grab his katana.
As he exited the vehicle, tossing the katana’s sheath into the passenger seat, the giant began to lumber towards him with heavy footfalls. It was a massive manlike creature, at least thirteen feet tall, with the tusks of an elephant, the clawed arms of a leopard, and the torso and lower region of a scaled alligator. Its muscular tail swished back and forth, snapping a HAWK beacon pole in half, which collapsed behind it. Kane hastily tied his long black hair into a topknot and whisked his katana into a front guard position, blue tang flashing in the sunlight.
“That’s a pretty pigsticker,” the behemoth rumbled in a deep baritone. Kane was momentarily shocked; he had never met a mutant this far gone that still possessed the ability to speak. “It will be good to pick the parts of you I don’t like from my teeth.”
Kane widened his stance, preparing for the inevitable charge. But it did not come.
“I have eaten five men, three women, and a child, and with each one, they get tastier, and I get smarter,” it said, beginning to circle around to Kane’s left.
The mutant feinted in his direction, but Kane did not fall for it. A malicious attempt at a grin crossed the thing’s face, but the tusks transformed it into a horrifying mockery.
Kane shifted the katana to his right hand, drew his CZ, and tried to shoot the beast right in its grinning face. It did not even flinch as it brought up its hand and stopped the bullets with the thick skin of its palm
“Worth a shot,” Kane muttered as he holstered his CZ. He noted that although the bullets had not fully penetrated, they had still buried themselves in the monstrosity’s palm. Not completely bulletproof, then, Kane thought, pivoting slowly to keep the mutant in sight.
“You’re not as dumb as most of the humans I come across,” the beast rumbled. “I might be able to gain entry back into Newmerica after I consume you.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Kane stated.
Finally, as the tension became palpable in the air, the beast charged at Kane, swinging a fist the size of a beachball at his ribs. But Kane was too small and nimble; he dodged to the side, bringing the katana down with all his might on the thing’s leopard-spotted wrist. With an almost silent snick, the behemoth’s huge hand fell to the ground with a wet thud. Kane rolled away, shutting his eyes in pain at the creature’s deafening roar.
Two echoing roars came from a few streets over, and the color drained from Kane’s face. Without thinking, he darted in while the monstrosity was still stunned and sliced its calf to the bone. It was a possibly fatal mistake; the heavy tail he had momentarily forgotten slammed into his right arm, breaking it instantly and sending him flying through the window of a store across the street.
Kane forced himself to sit up, blinking stars out of his eyes. He had apparently passed out for a few seconds; his sword was nowhere to be seen. His arm hung limp at his side as he climbed to his feet. Slinking into the shadows in the back of the store, he tried to gather his wits. He slammed his shoulder against a sturdy shelf to pop it back into place, jostling the broken bone in his arm. Wincing in pain, he was able to lift it a bit to assess the damage. His humerus was broken in at least two places, but his radius and ulna seemed intact.
Peering out the window, he watched as another mutant approached the one with elephant tusks. Much smaller than the mutant Kane had decided to refer to as Tusks, it was still over eight feet tall. This freak was more of an amalgamation of creatures, with the predominant facial features of a Doberman, the scales and bottom half of a snake, and the stripes and torso of what looked like a tiger. The two were conversing and looking in his direction. Miraculously, the stub where Tusks’ hand used to be had already stopped bleeding, and as Kane noticed this, Tusk stooped down to retrieve its hand from the ground. He examined it for a few seconds, then shoved it into his mouth and started chewing.
Kane watched, dumbstruck, as the hand he had severed not two minutes ago started to regrow, just like Kane’s finger had. It was going much slower though, and it looked as if a skeleton bouquet was sprouting from the stump.
He looked around for his sword, but he did not see it anywhere in the darkened store. Still, in the back of his mind, he was shocked at how good his vision had become after he consumed just a tiny piece of Tommy’s ear.
He gave up on the search and moved towards the rear exit, but it would not budge with the minimal weight he noiselessly pushed against it … until he was forced to jump back as the door was brutally ripped off its hinges.
A centaur entered the shop, bearing the skin, fins, and teeth of a shark. His solid black eyes scanned the room, not yet adjusted to the darkness. Hesitant to use his gun but thankful that he still had his trusty blades, Kane unsheathed his bowie knife and bounded forward. With a leap, he buried the knife under the centaur’s chin all the way to the hilt.
“Did you get him, Beck?” called Tusks from the front of the store. “… Beck?”
Kane crept out the back door, carefully stepping around the body of the mutant formerly known as Beck. The sound of breaking glass shattered the stillness as Tusks and the other beast stepped into the store. Kane made his way into the alley, with the intention of circling back around to the front to find his katana. He climbed up onto a large dumpster that was blocking the alley and silently slid down the other side. Peeking around the corner, he scanned the street and saw the blue blade shining in the sun not too far from his SUV. He dashed across the street, picking his sword up on the way, and hid behind the vehicle.
Tusks and the other mutant were barely visible as they moved cautiously through the store.
“Beck! Mickey, he killed Beck!”
Kane jumped into his car, and the engine roared to life as he floored it, speeding off towards the tollbooth as the two mutants burst back onto the street. They immediately ran after him, making this a deadly race against time. He was fast approaching the first gate, and he could still see them in the rearview mirror as the SUV screeched to a halt. Banging frantically on the gate, he was shocked to see the eye slit slide open, revealing Mitchell’s smiling eyes peeking out at him.
“What’s the password?” he asked in a grave voice, and Kane almost laughed in spite of himself.
“Dick gobbler,” Kane said with a wry smile.
The eyes in the slit flashed in anger. “I might just leave your ass out there for that one,” Mitchell said, but the gate began to roll up anyway.
As Mitchell’s body came into view, so did the huge Anzio Take-down sniper rifle he held pressed to his shoulder. With a glance in the scope to line up his shot, Mitchell squeezed the trigger without registering any of the recoil. A hundred yards away, Tusks’ head exploded in a shower of gore. Before Mitchell could line up his second shot, Mickey disappeared down an alleyway.
Mitchell rested the comically large rifle on his shoulder and looked down at Kane. “You look like hell,” he said, glancing at the arm hanging limp at his side.
“Broke my arm,” Kane said nonchalantly.
“It’s a good thing one of my boys saw those three lurking around and got me out here. I doubt Luke would have even opened the gate with those two behemoths closing in on you,” Mitchell said, gesturing to the wide-eyed man at the controls.
“Thanks.” Kane tried not to grimace as he walked back towards his SUV. “It has been a rough week.”
“Kane,” Mitchell called after him, “are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got demons in your eyes, and a weight on your shoulders I haven’t seen since we were in the military together. You look like you did after Bucharest.”
“This week had a lot in common with Bucharest.”
Mitchell’s face darkened. “Kane, why don’t you ride with me? I’ll have Luke here drive your car to base after his shift ends.”
“No thanks, Mitch. But if you want to come to supper tonight, I’m sure me and Miranda would enjoy seeing you and Thomas again.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you tonight,” Mitchell said as Kane carefully climbed into his vehicle and entered the darkness of the tunnel.