i Until yesterday, Birch Lane was one of the quietest neighborhoods on the east side of town and one of the safest. It was a place where people moved to raise their children, where nearly every house
Sawyer was better off dead. He probably wouldn’t have minded dying when he should have, anyway. He, like thousands of puppies before him, entered the lab with the wrong genotype. Congenitally flawed.
The houses live on a district in downtown, perched on a tall hill, Victorian homes, most built in the late 19 th and early 20 th centuries. I drive their streets every October to see what ghouls and g