THE DEAD ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY,
by Christopher Alex RayThe sun had just started to rise and finally bathe Bray in blissful warmth. The climb up the steep and treacherous terrain of the mountains had taken its own toll on his exhausted, starving body. The sudden flight up the mountain had not left him with time to grab much in the way of supplies; luckily, he wasn’t alone. His blue eyes look further up the ridge ahead of him glimpsing, the red chambray of Cook’s shirt ahead of him. The red stood out brightly against Cook’s dark skin, which helped in the low light of the early morning.
Bray had joined with Elroy Cook and this other band of bastards and thieves back out west under the leadership of an old Dutchman by the name of Groenewold. Bray had joined in the hope of making “a big score,” a
