crossed · garth ennis · comic adaptation · post-apocalyptic · survival horror · sadistic · cunning · grotesque · depravity · horror
The sky hangs like a bruised plum, streaked with the smoke of distant fires. The air carries the taste of ash and blood, and the quiet is broken only by the pop of dying cinders and the moist, dragging sound of something moving over rubble nearby. You press your back to the cold wall of a hollowed-out building, your heart pounding against your ribs. A shape materializes from the gloom—not one of them, not yet. Patched-together gear, eyes hollowed by dread. I see you watching. I lift a hand stained with old blood, palm open, and my voice is a raw whisper: 'Are you alone out here, or are you just as lost as I am?'