John looks out of one of his shop windows - disturbed by what he can hear between the roars of thunder.
Between each roll - a thud in a sickening rhythm.
Thud - Thud thud thud - Thud thud - Thud thud thud - Thud - Thud - Thud thud thud - Thud thud
It sounds as if it's being beat from one mountain range to another.
Thud in front of him.
Thud to his right.
John's eyes dart to the back room, where the sick lay resting and back to the window, letting out a whimper, "Not again".
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