“Marcus…I think we met. Dr. Blish said that name. Undead, dark, and creepy, plunged the world into a psychotic nightmare? Yeah, he took that doctor you told me to find. I heard him die screaming. At least I hoped he died, because it sure did sound awful otherwise.”

“That’d be our guy.”

“Marcus…Project Thirteen…Mark Thirteen’s a nickname? Son of a bitch.” Holly was excited. “So we kill this Mark dude, we fix everything?”

“Actually, I’m here to save him.”

Holly sighed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Really, Z? Did you at least bring help?”

“Ed, but he’s upstairs fighting a dragon.” There was a sudden bang from the opposite end of the storage room. That had been a gunshot. “Mosh?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“I haven’t seen any of the nightmare creations use a gun yet.”

“Quiet, Z. You trying to give him ideas? It might be Mosh, or there were a few of the PT boys here too when everything went to hell.” Then there were several more shots, followed by a crash. “One way to find out.”

I cracked more glow sticks, gave Holly some, and since her gun had long since been emptied on newly minted vampires, handed over my compact .45. We found my brother at the opposite end of the storage area, only he wasn’t the one in need of rescuing.

The area was actually well lit, having taken on the guise of the mortuary in New Zealand where my brother had been tortured. The fog had curled inside the lightbulbs and was fueling them with a sick pale light. The nightmare creations had been cultists from the Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition. There were four of them, but their red robes had been riddled with bullet holes.

Mosh was standing in the middle of the area, over a fifth body. He swung around and pointed a pistol at us when he heard our footsteps. He was shaking so badly I was amazed that he didn’t just shoot. “Owen?”

“Yeah, man. It’s me.” I was flooded with relief. “It’s okay now.”

He’d been cut, beaten. His face was a mess of spreading bruises. His clothing was hanging in strips, and his flesh had been abraded beneath that. Blood was dripping down his arms and splattering into the fog. He held up the hand without the pistol and wiggled his fingers. “Kept them this time. They tried to take them again, but I wouldn’t let them.”

“What happened?”