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Summary
Down where the shadows stretched to obscure rubble, a young man picked his way over wreckage. Each footfall seemed to echo like the rattle of bones. His breath came softly, but desperately, like the last stifling sobs of a child crying themselves to sleep. There was desperation to him, but there was calm in his movements—nihilistic, unbothered peace, a soft expression sliding over dying eyes.
Chase and Buddy face the aftermath of society's slow death.