“He lay forlorn in a stand of rubber trees off the main road between Tumpat and Pengkalan Kubur, across the river and north of Kota Bharu, almost to the border with Thailand. How he got there was anyone’s guess; certainly no one was looking for him there, so far from his home, and it was only by chance that a man tapping rubber happened to notice an unfamiliar heap through the trees. His body, now a bloodless husk, had been dragged to a darker corner from closer to the road, a corner bordering o...n some vacant land returning to secondary jungle. It was not near any homes or villages, just an empty stretch of road, desolate as only roads can be when even their destinations aren’t much to visit. And Ruslan had not died easy. He was huddled on his side, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was pale, almost translucent, and all his blood had leaked into the dark ground around him, leaving little trace of where it had once been. Ruslan’s throat had been torn out, leaving a gaping hole in his neck and shoulder where the blood had poured from him, and the expression on his face would give the man who found him nightmares for the rest of his life.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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