The Fallowing – The Second, Part I

Novel: Occult adventure

“This is it.” Sam stopped by an intricate archway full of metal flowers and curlicues. I imagined cobblestones lying under the snow, leading to the building beyond it, which rose brick and glass and not too modern. The entranceway’s doors were gone now, so we walked right in.

“Just because he may not be here,” he added, “don’t think that means you can let your guard down.”

“Speak for yourself.” I shouldered the pack off my shoulders and spun my arms to work out the kinks. Sam did the same, minus the arm spinning, though I’m sure he felt it too. We had been on the march for over a week since the last town. I looked around me at the lobby. It was half-filled with snow, but it was huge and lined with fancy tiles and marble pillars. For all the wasted storefronts, car shells, and the occasional beggar outside, this was still clearly the extravagant part of town – the buildings everyone moves into until they find that the rooms are too big to heat, causing them to swiftly move out again.

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