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The Apartment #222

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Through the blurred vision of tears Tracey saw a movement which caused her throat to constrict and her breathing to stop.
The charred and blackened mass lying on the floor juddered. Parts of the still smoking mound began to rise. The shape took form: Ricks arms, chunky blackened extremities, reaching up. Something rose behind them, a burned miss-shapen form that she recognised as shoulders and a blackened, soot-encrusted and featureless head. There was nothing of Rick to recognise: no hair, no eyes, nose or mouth. All had been destroyed by the Beast's conflagration.
But nevertheless Rick slowly rose.

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