I walk to the other side of the SUV and survey the town ahead of us. It is a tiny place with probably about five buildings. There is a Post Office on the other end of the street directly across from City Hall, which seems like a joke. The buildings are squat and empty-looking, though that’s how all greyskin-infested buildings look until they notice someone has come near.

“Now,” Gabe says, “I want us to clear all of the buildings, but our main target is the one on the far left.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to see the words on the window front. It’s the sheriff's office. “Weapons?” I ask.

Gabe nods. “I want to get there first, so if we don’t get a chance to clear out the other buildings at least we’ll have some extra guns.”

“Unless someone got here before us, right?” I ask.

Gabe looks at me and shrugs. “Let’s go,” he says.

Skip and Gabe begin walking down the street toward the sheriff’s office while Paxton, Mendez, and I follow a few paces behind. All of us keep our eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Though we clutch tightly to our guns, we will only use them if necessary. A lone greyskin? Someone distracts it while someone else drives a knife into its brain. Two greyskins? Same story. Three or more? It might be time to use the guns.

I look at the first building to our left and try to focus on the sounds within. The shuffling of feet. Something light, maybe paper, falls to the ground. Something moves about quietly. My heightened hearing ability can’t always make out the exact type of creature lurking in the shadows, but a greyskin has a distinct sound. It is clumsy, and when it gets excited, it begins to gurgle and almost growl like a phlegmy cat hissing at a stranger - only it’s not out of fear, but hunger.

The way the feet move, I can tell its a greyskin. The footsteps are heavy, so it’s not an animal, and it’s not so self aware that it’s careful. We pass the building, and the creature doesn’t seem to notice us through the windows.

I look at the Post Office and hear one or two of them shuffling around. Then, the sheriff’s office. Again, I can barely hear any movement at all, but there is definitely something in there. My grip tightens on my gun as we move forward, now only a hundred feet away. I catch Paxton staring at me, his eyebrows furrowed. It looks as though he can tell that I have a determined focus - unnatural perhaps. I want to tell him that he should stop staring at me and get on with his own determined focus, but I hold my tongue and keep my eyes forward.