Graveyard Rising

Tyler Street looked as though it hadn't changed a bit since the last time Byron had been there. Same sidewalk cafe. Same trendy woman's clothing store across the street. Same classy jazz club next door to that. It had been a year since he'd been there, and everything was perfectly in place.

Stepping past the jazz club and clothing store, he heard a high-pitched whimper in the background, rising above the traffic's din. It sounded wounded, almost angry. Like a dying goose.

Checking the faces o...