“”He tried to sneak over the Wall. And Loraine turned him inside out.” Mica squealed…
It had always been something new when Viola had told the story—inside out, fried, burned to a crisp, mashed to a pulp, exploded. Mica had never gotten the same story out of Viola twice, and somehow they always seemed like cooking stories gone horribly wrong. But every once and a while, someone else would turn up and confirm the tall tales. Someone who had seen the body or had smelled the sizzling flesh would pop up and say they had known the poor bastard who had tried to jump the Wall. May he rest in peace.

Mica has made it this far, all the way to West One, but what will they find inside the city? And are the stories about the Wall really true?