I'm obsesive.
You've got me stressin'.
This time please someone come rescue me.
SOS please someone help me.
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As the seasons change the world changes with them. We transverse from Fall to Winter. The world has become painted in white. The trees become dark with an iridescent glow, and yet... people remain the same. They also change from wonder to destraughtness.
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"How many are there?"
"Six."
"How many I. T."
"Eighteen."
"Any have relatives?"
"Most do."
The womanly voice, who was asking the questions showed her face to the master.
"The Season for giving is upon us, Master."
"So it is."
"What are the orders?"
"I have no interest in prisoners...kill them all."
"So be it, Master."
The girl walked away leaving the man, who was dark of face, to sit on the balcany.
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THE DARK PROPHESY.
Six shall destroy the lives of all.
They have help.
Reborn of fire and darkness.
The winter comes, and they die by the thousands.
They are a vine off the tree of orignality.
The only way to destroy is to kill from within.
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The man sat in the room. He took a paper from a table in wrought iron and read it. Sitting in the bitter room, he stood reading. He rang a bell next to the door, and a tall slender woman came in.
"Yes, master."
"They are on the move."
"What shall we do?"
"Send two to the desert near the shack, and release the zombies."
"The ones caused by the virus?"
"Yes, we must test their strength."