Most of the warehouse floor was clear, but in the center was a vertical, wall-spanning spiderweb of shattered crates and broken things. Half-umbrellas speared rotten fruit glued by its sour juices to refrigerator cartons twisted like used tissues. In the center, claws of bent aluminum and jagged wooden splinters held a motionless human form. Blood dripped onto the floor with a steady, rhythmic beat.
"We defeated them," I hissed. "They couldn't have returned. Not so soon."
The head of the dangling figure turned its ruined face to me. "Did you think," it gurgled, "that no one would call us back?"
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