Jeff had been walking for hours, though he couldn't remember where he'd started. Rain followed him down the empty street, running from his hair and down the back of his neck. His jacket had stopped keeping him dry long ago. Water squished inside his shoes with every step.

Down the trench, past the dying and the dead, until there was nowhere left to run. With enemy troops surging ahead, he clawed his way up and over the wall...

His face was smeared with blood, matted in his beard and hair, running from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His skin was pale and clammy. His pupils were blown wide, rimmed in a raw, wet red. His jaw clenched and unhinged like something trying to remember how to be human.