“Hey, can anybody read?”
“Yeah, what?” Old man Lowe set his crossbow down and made his way to where the young man was standing. Tacked to a closed door was a note, written on paper yellowed with age.
“What’s it say?'”
“Hold your torch up. ‘My name is Jean Louis Lefebre. I was bitten and have locked myself in. Do not open the door unless I respond verbally.’ Well now.”
From beyond the door, they heard faint scratches. “Could be rats…”
“Somehow I doubt it. Son, hand me my crossbow and let’s put poor Mr. Lefebre out of his misery.”