The table was lavishly decorated—worthy of a magazine cover, even. The turkey glistened golden brown, but I don’t understand why it was meowing.
The wrinkled farmer, his mouth disproportioned and agape, crouched at my beside. He was screaming, but no sound emerged. I wasn’t supposed to be there.
As the room violently shook, the General whispered, “He knows.” Lights flicked into darkness. And then, a stabbing, white light erupted from the laboratory door.