Chapter ElevenLegions of thoughts fight for my attention.
How can the guy with the chunk of glass in his eye be alive?
How come no one stopped him on the way here? Did they think Halloween came early?
How can both of them be walking after what they’ve gone through?
And why do both look exactly like the guys in my morgue dream?
Suppressing these mystifying questions for the moment, I prioritize survival and spin around, my hand diving into my pocket for the keys to my apartment.
Shuffling steps echo in the corridor behind me.
The hallway becomes a tunnel as my vision desperately zooms in on my apartment door.
Without attempting to even out my ragged breathing, I sprint.
I reach the door in two leaps, but my hands shake when I try to insert the key.
The horrible stench intensifies,
