The Numbers of the Beasts

They are out there, the creeping things. A smell blows in on the breeze, a smell of corruption, of rotten meat, of beast. A smell of creatures long lost to memory, but still lurking there, waiting to return.

No-one knows where they came from. Some talk of conspiracies and experiments. Others look at the sky and talk of aliens. There are others too who speak of things and times of long ago. A memory beyond memory of times and places back before history began, when this was a very different wor...