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39: Hunt
Jack
Tessa, Ian and I are deep into the mine now, with no signal to the mapping device and following a blind tunnel. There’s occasional jabber on the pack link as pockets of vampires are located and swiftly killed, but no one’s found any sign of Darby. Or any other non-vampire for that matter.
The whole mine reeks of vamps, like a fucking cesspool of eviscerated decomposing body and rotten eggs. And I don’t mean eggs a little yucky and past their time. I mean the kind that explode the grey muck of ghastly stench that poisons your olfactory memory for the rest of your days. It’s fucking revolting.
The fuck? Do they just not have noses? How the hell can these vamps live trapped in this stink?
They are foul creatures, Triumvir.
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