On his forehead, close up against his short-cropped, iron-gray hair, was a red stain.
Kent approached and bent over him.

He had seen death too many times not to recognize it now, but seldom had he seen a face twisted and distorted as Kedsty's was.

His eyes were open and bulging in a glassy stare.

His jaws hung loose.

His-- It was then Kent's blood froze in his veins.