Somewhere quite close by, in the Nevada desert, something that had once been Trix Desoto gestated her young.
It would be some months before anything would come of this. It would be some while before the first one spoke.
Postscript: The Future
The High Priest was gripping the dame like an iced tea on a hot summer’s day… “Don’t do it, mister,” I yelled over the rising cacophony… The sky turned the colour of week-old vomit and the gate opened… I fired off one, two, three shots but it was too late… He had come unto us… the Blood God had arrived to eat the Earth.
“In the Night, He Comes” Spicy Detective January 1947