A length of coarse hemp cord lashed the lone surviving operative to the thick trunk of an ancient pine tree, biting deep into his forearms and pinning his shoulders tight against the rough bark.
The other two paralyzed men had already succumbed to the catastrophic internal bleeding caused by their collapsed meridians, their corpses lying stiff in the damp ferns beside their decapitated squad leader. Caleb Conway stood over the bound survivor, his breathing slow and even, while the gray mist continued to swirl around the roots of the massive trees. The forest remained completely still, save for the steady drip of cold condensation falling from the needles overhead.
Caleb reached down and tore the black linen mask from the man's face, revealing a sharp, gaunt jaw and eyes wide with feveris
