They woke up to the smell of danger. No one could see it. None of them could hear it. But it was there. Lurking... intangible... inaudible... invisible. The space around them was alive with it. They breathed it into their lungs. It crept through the pores of their skins. It was the dreaded presence of X the Unknown.
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Used availability for R L Fanthorpe's The Face of X