Everyone dies. Actually, can I start again? Everyone deserves a death. Mitchell was going to go down in a blaze of gunfire and glory. Not cold and alone and shit scared. He didn’t think death would smile at him first. Death was always a certainty; the punch line we all see coming. But not for Mitchell. For a vampire, death isn’t the end, but the beginning. Then there are the ones like George. The ones that should have died. But shattered and bloody, they walk away from the train wreck. But what’s the cost? They’re scarred. Transformed. They’re monsters now, too. Aberrations. The stuff of nightmares. The big bad wolf. So, what have we got to look forward to? Us refugees? The flotsam and jetsam of death. Maybe, if we still deserve such a thing as mercy, we find each other.