CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rooted to the ground, fear overcoming every sensation, Ezra swayed backwards and stared at the man standing before him. If indeed it was a man. It was difficult to tell with so much dried blood masking his features. It seemed as if someone had modelled his head from clay, someone not overly adept. Misshapen, features crooked, nose bent, a large bulge on the right side, a massive indentation on the left. And blood, blood everywhere, covering his entire face, his eyes shining brilliant white from within the blackness. Breathing laboriously, he brought up his gun hand and eased back the hammer. “How you know?” he croaked.
Perplexed, eyes focused on the gun, Ezra tried his best to remain calm. But it proved difficult. The man was like a vision out of hell. “Know?” was al
