Chapter 89: The Militia Marches
The heavy mahogany doors of the Sterling estate swung outward into the teeth of the gale, releasing thirty five armed men into the freezing darkness of Crestline Avenue. The subzero squall struck their faces like a shower of needles, but the icy wind failed to dampen the fever burning in their hollow chests. They had spent weeks cowering behind locked doors, watching their fingers turn black while their bellies consumed themselves in silence, yet the weight of cold steel in their grips transformed their despair into feral resolve.
They spilled down the snow covered marble steps of the terrace, their boots breaking through the crust in a chaotic flurry of stomping feet.
On the buried roadway, where luxury sedans lay entombed beneath five feet of white powd
