Wrapped in noxious fog, it glided silently over the South Carolina countryside on a rampage of terror and death. Awakened by jack hammers and steam shovels, it could not be killed, for it was already dead; it could not be stopped, for it was invincible; it could not be satisfied, for its lust was boundless. It was ultimate terror that lurked within the blood mist.
Blood Mist: Robert James
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