She was a sharp-featured woman in her early sixties, sporting a salt and pepper buzz cut. Her dark eyes were cold and unforgiving. Her skin was acne scarred and uncomfortably pale.
“Callahan is sick,” she began, “and I will cure it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Under my authority, the ‘Ghost Killers’ will be eliminated. Governor Randall has given me the authority to enact martial law in Callahan and I fully intend to follow through. When that does happen, anyone c
aught out after curfew will be arrested, or worse. If the Ghost Killers are to be found, we must be more brutal than they are.”
A journalist raised a hand and asked a question.
“General Grey, your track record in the Middle East was controversial to say the least. We all know about your… nickname… Would you care to comment on whether or not you think you are the right choice to lead Callahan?” she asked.
General Grey smiled and it was a chilling sight, because not a shred of emotion reached her eyes. It was as if the top of her face was made of wax. It didn’t help that her teeth were yellow and unseemly sharp.
“There’s a reason the Taliban nicknamed me ‘Pale Death.’ My methods are considered by some to be vile, but they get the job done. That is why Governor Randall chose me for the job. I get results. Make no mistake, monsters are killing Callahan. And the best way to kill a monster is with an even more vicious monster.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish