Sourcefield

> > I reached up, grabbing her mask by the front, then yanking it off like a ski mask. It had a plastic piece on the front that obviously fit over the nose and mouth. A filter of some sort?

> > Beneath the mask she was a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair. The liquid continued to rain down, and it ran in streams along her cheeks, across her lips. Getting into her mouth.

> > Her light went out completely.

> > I groaned, climbing to my feet as Sourcefield shouted in panic, scrambling at the door, rattling it, trying to get it open. I tapped my mobile, bathing the room in a soft white light.

> > “I’m sorry,” I said, raising Megan’s handgun to her head.

> > Sourcefield looked to me, eyes widening.

> > I squeezed the trigger. This time, the bullet didn’t bounce off. She fell to the ground, and a deeper red liquid began to pool around her, mixing with what was raining down. I lowered the gun.

> Page 21, Chapter 3, Firefight