Damian still remembered his first corpse tide.He'd puked for hours, couldn't sleep for days.
Now he watched the kid beside him press his forehead to the glass—eyes bright instead of afraid—and forgot to breathe.The boy wasn't shaking. He was excited.
What kind of person felt alive watching this?
Damian's hand closed around Ratty's wrist."Stay quiet."
Up front, Noah exhaled. A soft gold haze unfurled over the truck, swallowing sound and light.Ethan kept his boot hovering over the pedal, ready to floor it.Marcus and Caleb had their weapons drawn. No one spoke.
"This field hides us," Damian murmured. "Move too much and it breaks."
Ratty didn't answer. He just stared.
A dying ram slammed into the truck—ribs cracking as corpses tore it apart.Blood streaked the windshield. None of the dead looked inside.
Seconds later, the swarm moved on.The faster ones sprinted after new prey; the slower ones dragged themselves behind.Silence returned. Only steaming carcasses and the stench of blood remained.
Ratty flattened his palm against the glass.So this was power—life and death stripped bare.
"First time seeing them up close?" Damian's voice was low, almost teasing.
Ratty turned. Damian's face was inches away; the air between them smelled of heat and gun oil.The boy forgot to breathe again.
Noah's haze pulsed gently, filling the cab with a faint hum.
Then a new rumble rolled across the plain—deeper, heavier.Whatever had driven the herd hadn't left.
Grass whispered as something massive dragged through it.
Ethan's jaw tightened. He slammed the pedal.The engine roared; tires spat dirt, and the truck shot forward.
Ratty looked back. Beyond the dust cloud, something vast moved—too wide for the horizon, and it was watching them run.