It began slowly.
At first, he thought it was just fever. A few chills. A bit of dizziness.But then, the tremors started.
Inside his cabin, under the sickly yellow light of a single bulb, the soldier dropped to his knees. His body seized violently, convulsing against the wooden floorboards. His breath came in wet, choking gasps as his veins darkened beneath his skin.
Bloodshot eyes bulged wide, pupils dilating to pinpricks. Thick strands of bloody foam bubbled out from his mouth, dripping down his chin and staining his undershirt crimson.
His muscles began to twitch—first at random, then in rolling, grotesque waves that traveled beneath his flesh.
Something was moving inside him.
Swelling lumps began to push out from under his skin, stretching and distorting it. His shoulders bulged unnaturally, veins writhing like worms. His neck muscles tightened until they looked ready to snap. A web of sickly green and yellow discoloration spread across his upper body like a spreading infection map.
He gasped one last time, eyes rolling back.Then everything went still.
For a few heartbeats, he lay there, motionless.Then, slowly, he stood up.
Not like a man recovering from a seizure—Like something else was pulling the strings from inside.
He rose stiffly, head tilted forward, arms hanging loose at his sides. His breathing was shallow but fast, like an animal scenting prey.
And now, under the harsh cabin light, his appearance had completely changed
His skin was mottled and sickly, pale grey streaked with blotches of greenish rot. Veins pulsed visibly beneath the surface, dark as ink, tracing grotesque patterns across his chest and arms.
Bulbous growths had erupted across his upper body, most prominently along his shoulders, neck, and scalp. They were uneven in size—some like marbles, others like golf balls—translucent and filled with yellow-green fluid that glistened wetly when he moved. A few of them twitched, as if alive.
His eyes were blood-red, threaded with burst vessels, and his sclera had started turning a murky yellow. They stared blankly ahead, unfocused, like he wasn't fully there.
His mouth hung slightly open, lips torn and smeared with dried blood from earlier convulsions. Behind them, his gums were swollen, and his teeth looked stained and sharper, as if the infection had warped them.
His torso was transformed—muscles stood out in abnormal, tense cords, not from strength but from spasms. Parts of his skin had split under the pressure of the swelling tumors, leaking thin trails of yellowish pus.
A thin line of dark, coagulated blood ran from his nose and ears, dried against his pallid skin like war paint.
He just stood there, completely still.Not breathing loudly. Not moving.Like a possessed corpse waiting for a command.
The camp was silent after curfew.No chatter. No vehicles. Just the distant hum of the perimeter floodlights and the wind threading through the trees.
Mel Carter moved quickly across the path, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, head down. She glanced over her shoulder once, making sure no patrols were around. She wasn't supposed to be out this late — no one was — but Danny had been acting strange since the convoy returned. And she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at her gut.
She reached the door to his cabin and knocked softly.
Mel: (whispering) "Danny? It's me."
No answer.
She frowned, pressing her ear against the wood. The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. She turned the knob — it wasn't locked. Typical Danny.
She slipped inside but the door didn't close all the way through.
The cabin was dim, lit only by a single lamp in the corner. The air was thick and humid, heavy with the smell of blood, sweat, and antiseptic. His rifle leaned against the wall. His jacket was crumpled on the floor.
Mel: (softly, worried) "Danny…?"
Her boots creaked on the wooden floor as she stepped farther in. She found him standing near the center of the room.
He wasn't moving.
Sergeant Daniel Rourke stood barefoot on the floorboards, shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders. His body was stiff, his head tilted slightly downward, arms limp at his sides. He looked like someone who'd fallen asleep standing up.
But Mel's stomach dropped when she saw his skin.
Even in the low light, she could make out the discoloration crawling across his chest and neck—patches of yellow-green swelling, veins bulging dark and unnatural. His skin was clammy, slick with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils unfocused, staring at the ground.
Mel: (taking a step closer) "Danny… what happened to you?"
She reached out slowly, instinctively, like she had a dozen nights before when she'd come to comfort him after missions.
Her hand hovered near his arm—And then he moved.
It wasn't a slow, groggy movement. It was a sudden, violent snap.
His head jerked up. His eyes locked onto hers.They weren't Danny's eyes anymore.
They were blood-red, threaded with burst vessels, the whites turning jaundiced. His mouth opened slowly, and thick strings of blood and foam dripped down his chin.
Mel: (stumbling back) "Oh my God…"
Before she could reach for the door, he lunged.Danny covered the distance between them in a blink, crashing into her with inhuman force. She barely got a sound out before his teeth sank into her neck.
The bite was brutal and messy.
He tore into her flesh like an animal, hot blood splattering across the cabin walls as Mel's scream was choked off halfway. She thrashed, trying to push him off, but he was stronger—unnaturally strong—pinning her against the wall as he fed.
Her hands clawed at his shoulders. Her legs kicked against the floor. But within moments, the struggling slowed… then stopped.
Danny—no, the thing that had once been Danny—lifted its head.His mouth was smeared with blood, his breathing shallow and animalistic. He stared blankly at the wall for a moment, twitching slightly, as Mel's body slid limply to the floor beside him.
Outside, the camp remained silent.No one had heard a thing.
The door hadn't closed all the way.
The faint night breeze pushed it open by just an inch, leaving a thin line of darkness between the frame and the wall. Through that gap, the cold air seeped into the cabin, mingling with the metallic scent of blood.
Danny's feeding slowed.
At first, he had been a frenzy—animal, unstoppable—tearing into Mel's neck and shoulder with brutal efficiency. But then something changed.Her body, which had been limp moments ago, started twitching. Her back arched violently. Her eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wild.
Her veins darkened beneath her skin, spreading like black lightning, and her breathing became ragged. Bloody foam leaked from her mouth as her muscles convulsed.
Danny froze mid-bite.It was like something inside him recognized what was happening.
His head tilted slightly. His grip loosened. His mouth pulled away from her torn flesh.
Mel's convulsions grew sharper. Her fingers clawed at the air, her legs kicking against the floor as a guttural noise—half scream, half growl—escaped her throat. Her pupils rolled back, and for a moment, she lay still.
Then she stood up.
Fast. Wrong.
Her movements weren't coordinated like a living person's. It was as if some invisible puppeteer yanked her upright. Her head jerked to one side, her mouth hanging slightly open. Her eyes were cloudy now, glazed and bloodshot, focused on nothing but sensing everything.
Danny watched her with a kind of still, twitching awareness—like animals acknowledging each other.
No sound. No communication.Just… recognition.
Then they turned toward the open door.
Outside, the camp slept.
Floodlights cast pale cones over the gravel paths, illuminating empty walkways and the silhouettes of cabins. The night patrol had thinned since the soldiers' losses earlier that day. The few that remained walked their rounds with tired steps, their rifles slung lazily.
They weren't expecting danger inside.
Danny stepped out first, his bare feet silent against the dirt. Mel followed close behind, her movements jerky but quick. Together, they slipped into the shadows between cabins like predators learning how to hunt.
The first to fall was a soldier stationed near the supply hut.He had leaned back in his chair, smoking a cigarette, his rifle resting casually against his knee. He didn't even see them coming.
Mel lunged from behind, sinking her teeth into his throat before he could shout. He gargled, blood spraying the wall behind him, and Danny grabbed his arms to keep him from flailing.The cigarette dropped into the dirt, still burning.
They dragged his body into the darkness.
Further down the path, a pair of soldiers returning from latrine duty were laughing quietly, whispering about a card game. They turned a corner—and froze.
Danny came out of nowhere, ramming into one like a charging animal, slamming him against the cabin wall. Before the second could react, Mel grabbed his arm and bit deep into the flesh below his shoulder, tearing through cloth and skin.
The screams were muffled.Shock does that.
By the time the other patrol heard anything, it was already too late.
They moved through the camp like a silent infection, not because they were stealthy masterminds—but because no one inside those fences was looking for monsters anymore.
One patrolman.Two soldiers.A mechanic walking back late from the vehicle shed.Another soldier who came out to check on the noise.
Each attack added another to their growing number. Some were killed outright. Others, bitten and left writhing, would rise before sunrise.
By the time the camp's lights shut off at midnight, six more infected were among them.
And no one had sounded the alarm.Not yet.
The first light of dawn was a thin orange line slicing across the treetops.The moon still hung pale and heavy in the sky, slowly fading as the night surrendered to morning.
Then came the screams.
They tore through the camp like a blade. High-pitched, raw, real.
Nathan jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest. Before he could make sense of anything, gunshots cracked through the cold air. Not warning shots. Real gunfire—short bursts, panicked yelling, the sound of boots pounding against the ground.
"What's happening!?" his mom's voice came from the next room, trembling.
Nathan stumbled toward the porch window, dragging his blanket like a cape. His brother Aaron was already there, pushing the curtain aside, his face drained of color.
"Oh my God…" Aaron whispered.
Outside, the camp was chaos.
Soldiers were sprinting between cabins, rifles up, shouting orders no one could fully hear. Muzzle flashes lit up the early dawn, strobing through the misty air. The infected—those who had turned during the night—were fast and rabid, their bodies jerking and twitching with unnatural energy. They charged toward the gunfire like animals drawn to blood, their screams mingling with the soldiers' shouts in a nightmarish chorus.
A man burst out of the cabin two doors down, yelling over his shoulder:
"Stay inside! Lock the door!"
His wife and two kids stood frozen in the doorway, their faces pale. He turned to face the commotion—And that's when one of the infected slammed into him from the side.
The impact was brutal. They crashed into the porch railing, splintering the wood. The man screamed as the creature bit deep into his neck, shaking its head like a dog tearing meat. Blood sprayed across the steps.
His family's screams filled the air.
"DAD!!""HELP HIM!!"
The soldiers were too far. Everyone else was too terrified to move.
Nathan and his family watched, frozen, from the cabin window. His mom clutched her cross necklace with shaking hands. His dad stood behind them, jaw clenched, trying to stay composed for his family but failing.
Nathan's breathing quickened. The scene outside didn't feel real. It felt like a movie, like a nightmare he couldn't wake from.
More gunfire echoed near the main gates. A patrol truck was overturned, its windshield shattered. Two soldiers were being dragged to the ground by infected, their rifles firing wildly into the air as teeth tore into them.
"They're inside the camp," Aaron muttered. "Holy shit… they're inside."
Nathan's stomach dropped. All the conspiracy theories. All the whispers. Robert Abercrombie. The cities that fell overnight.
It was happening here now.
"Everyone away from the windows!" his father snapped. He started locking doors, shutting curtains, checking their gear. His voice shook despite the orders.
Outside, the sun finally breached the horizon—And the camp was already burning.
The gunfire went on for nearly fifteen minutes.Fifteen minutes of panic. Fifteen minutes of screaming. Fifteen minutes that felt like an eternity.
And then, finally… silence.
The last few shots echoed into the trees, fading into the dawn mist. The only sounds left were the moans of the wounded, the crackling of a nearby fire, and the heavy breathing of exhausted soldiers. The infected—what remained of them—lay scattered across the camp, their bodies twisted and broken, bullet holes riddling their greyed flesh.
Nathan and his family hadn't moved from the window.His mom was still clutching her cross. His dad stood like a statue, eyes scanning the yard. Aaron's jaw was clenched tight.
Outside, doors began to creak open.
People emerged hesitantly from their cabins, barefoot, wrapped in blankets, some still in their pajamas. They walked like shell-shocked survivors, faces pale, blinking against the rising sun.
"What the hell happened?!""Is it over!?""Someone explain!"
The questions came from all sides, rising like a tide of confusion and fear.
Near the center of the camp, Captain Raymond Hargrove stood among his men.Tall, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of eyes that had seen too much, Hargrove barked orders in a voice that cut through the chaos.
Hargrove: "Keep everyone inside! I want full perimeter teams checking for breaches. Now!"
Two soldiers tried to hold back a crowd forming near the mess hall, but people were panicking. They wanted answers.
Hargrove raised his voice.
Hargrove: "Everyone back inside your cabins. This is not up for debate. Stay inside. That's an order!"
The authority in his tone made people hesitate, then slowly retreat. Doors shut again one by one.
Hargrove turned to a younger sergeant nearby, his face streaked with soot and blood.
Hargrove: "Talk to me. How the hell did this happen? You're telling me we had eight infected inside the wire and no one noticed?"
The sergeant shook his head helplessly.
Sergeant: "Sir, we… we don't know. There's no breach. Gates were locked all night. Maybe someone turned inside, maybe—"
Hargrove: "Maybe isn't good enough." (snaps)
He dragged a hand over his face, pacing once in the dirt. Then he looked toward the treeline, where the last echoes of gunfire had disappeared hours ago.
And then he said it.The thing that shut everyone up.
Hargrove: "…That noise."
The sergeant frowned.
Sergeant: "Sir?"
Hargrove pointed toward the forest, his jaw tightening.
Hargrove: "The gunfire. The screaming. All of it. It's going to draw more. You think those things don't hear?"
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Hargrove: "They'll come. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But they will. That's how this works. We just rang the damn dinner bell."
The sergeant swallowed hard. Around them, other soldiers exchanged worried looks. Some shifted their weight, scanning the woods like they half-expected something to come sprinting out right then and there.
Hargrove: (low, grim) "We bought ourselves a mess, boys. Get the defenses ready. This isn't over—not by a long shot."
The camp had been buzzing since dawn.
Soldiers rushed across the grounds like ants around a cracked nest—dragging sandbags, reinforcing fences, setting up barricades around the main gate. Some patrolled the perimeter with their rifles slung tight against their shoulders. Others climbed the watch towers to survey the forest line.
Captain Hargrove barked orders non-stop, his voice hoarse but unyielding.
Hargrove: "I want overlapping fields of fire on every side! We hold this line, or we're dead. Move!"
The civilians watched from windows and doorways, fear spreading through the camp like smoke. Some whispered about escape, others prayed. Nathan stood with his brother on the porch, watching soldiers hammer makeshift barricades into place.
Aaron: (quietly) "They're scared."Nathaniel: (nodding) "Yeah. So am I."
The morning stretched on like an eternity. Every sound from the woods made heads snap around. Every gust of wind against the treeline made soldiers tighten their grips.
And then—They came.
At first, it was just a sound.
A faint, rhythmic thumping from somewhere beyond the trees.Then another.And another.
Like the forest itself was breathing.
Then they emerged.
Dozens of infected, then hundreds, stumbling, limping, sprinting—some still fresh, others mangled and rotting, their movements jerky and uncoordinated but driven by a single, unrelenting instinct. They poured out of the tree line in a loose horde, screaming and snarling, their voices echoing through the woods.
The soldiers on the towers opened fire first.Short, controlled bursts at the front runners. A few fell. But more took their place.
Tower Guard: "Contact! Contact! South fence! They're coming in heavy!"
Hargrove sprinted toward the barricades, barking orders.
Hargrove: "Light them up! Keep them off the fence!"
Machine guns roared. Rifles cracked. The smell of gunpowder filled the air as the soldiers unleashed a wall of lead. The first wave slammed into the perimeter fencing, snarling and clawing like rabid dogs. The impact made the steel chain-link groan and shudder.
But they didn't stop.
More kept coming.
They piled up against the fence—dead, alive, clawing, screaming—a living, writhing wall of flesh. Some climbed over the bodies of the fallen. Others grabbed the wire and threw themselves against it, uncaring if the barbs tore through their skin.
The soldiers fired until their magazines ran dry, then reloaded and fired again.But it wasn't enough.
Soldier: "They're too many! We can't hold them!"
One section of the western fence buckled under the weight. The support poles bent inward with a horrible metallic screech. A moment later, it collapsed entirely, crushed under the sheer mass of infected hurling themselves forward.
They spilled into the camp like water breaking through a dam.
Hargrove: "BREACH! WEST SIDE! FALL BACK TO SECONDARY POSITIONS!"
Panic erupted. Soldiers scrambled to set up fallback lines while civilians screamed inside their cabins. Nathan could see them from the porch—the infected pouring through the gap, sprinting at anything that moved.
One soldier tried to hold his ground at the breach, emptying his magazine into the horde until the last click. They swarmed him in seconds. His screams were cut off as he disappeared beneath a wave of bodies.
Aaron: (terrified) "They're in… Nate, they're in."
Nathan's mom screamed from inside the cabin.
Mom: "Nathaniel! Aaron! Get inside! NOW!"
He couldn't move. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the nightmare spilling into their world.
The fence had fallen.The camp was breached.And there was no stopping it.
The camp exploded into pure chaos.
The breach had turned the entire perimeter into a feeding ground. Infected poured through the broken fences in a frenzied wave, their shrieks and guttural growls mixing with gunfire and human screams into a single, nightmarish roar.
Soldiers opened fire wildly, some trying to form defensive lines, others simply shooting at anything that moved. Tracer rounds streaked through the early morning light, cutting across the camp like fireflies in hell.
It didn't matter.There were too many.
Nathan watched through the window, frozen, as a group of infected tackled a patrolman near the supply shed, dragging him down in a writhing mess of blood and limbs. His rifle fired a few desperate bursts into the sky before his screams were drowned out.
People ran everywhere—families clutching children, neighbors screaming each other's names, others too terrified to move. Some sprinted toward the gates, only to find them jammed with vehicles and fleeing soldiers. Others slammed their cabin doors shut, barricading themselves inside as if thin wooden walls would stop the monsters outside.
"Where do we go?!" someone shouted nearby."Help us!! Please!!" another screamed.
Gunfire cracked from every direction.
Near the cafeteria, a cluster of civilians were crushed against a fence trying to escape. Infected slammed into them from behind, the crowd collapsing like dominoes. The screams that followed were short and terrible.
Two soldiers tried to pull back to a truck to mount a defense, but three infected sprinted from the treeline, fast and animal-like. One soldier tripped, and before the other could help, they were on him—biting, clawing, ripping. Blood sprayed across the windshield as his partner screamed and fired uselessly into the swarm.
Across the camp, sound drew death.
A woman inside one of the cabins was screaming for her husband at the top of her lungs. Her pounding on the door echoed through the yard.Within seconds, half a dozen infected snapped their heads toward the noise and sprinted across the camp like wolves scenting prey. They crashed into the walls, hammering at them with terrifying strength.
The door cracked on the first hit.
"Shut up, SHUT UP!" a man inside hissed, but it was too late.
The infected slammed again and again, wood splintering, hinges groaning. Other infected nearby heard the commotion and joined in, forming a frenzied pack that hammered the cabin like a battering ram, drawn by the screams.
Inside, the terrified family's shouts turned into shrieks as the door finally gave way.
Nathan's dad pulled them all away from the window.
Dad: "We're leaving. Now."
Mom: (panicked) "Go where?!"
Aaron: "The trucks, maybe—they'll evacuate!"
Nathan's mind was spinning. Outside was a war zone. Inside wasn't much safer. Through the walls, they could hear people pounding on doors, gunshots, engines failing to start, and the horrifying, wet tearing sounds of infected feeding.
Nathaniel: (under his breath) "This is it… the camp's gone."
A nearby explosion rocked the ground—someone had blown a gas line near the fence. Flames shot up into the morning air, lighting the scene like a torch. Through the fire and smoke, more infected kept coming. They didn't stop. They never did.
The gunfire had become background noise—like thunder in a never-ending storm. Screams rose and fell across the camp, blending with the snapping of burning wood and the guttural howls of the infected.
Inside the cabin, Nathan's dad paced back and forth, gripping the pistol he'd taken from one of the supply lockers earlier that week. His hands were trembling, but his jaw was set. He kept glancing at the door, then back at his family, like a man trying to convince himself of a plan he already knew was terrible.
Mom: (pleading) "You're not going out there. You're not. That's suicide, Michael!"
Dad: (gritting his teeth) "Staying here is the same thing."
Mom: "At least here we can barricade—"
Dad: "Barricade what? These walls? You heard the shooting. You saw what happened last night. The fence is down. If we stay, we die here."
The look in his eyes silenced her. It wasn't recklessness. It was resignation. He had already decided.
Dad: "Pack only what matters. We leave through the back. Quietly."
Nathan stood frozen for a second, staring at his dad like he was seeing him for the first time. His father had always been strict, composed—the kind of man who never raised his voice unless absolutely necessary. But now, there was something else behind his eyes: a grim certainty.
Aaron snapped out of it first, pulling open drawers and stuffing supplies into a backpack. Nathan followed, his hands shaking so badly that every zipper felt like a puzzle. They grabbed water bottles, cans, a flashlight, a kitchen knife, spare clothes. The smell of smoke was seeping through the cracks in the walls now, mixing with gunpowder and ash.
His mom moved like someone in a dream—folding blankets, whispering prayers under her breath.
Through the back door, the world had become unrecognizable.
The sky was choked with smoke, turning the sunrise into a murky, blood-orange glow. Fires burned in different corners of the camp—vehicles, cabins, and barricades alike. Infected shrieked in the distance, and every few seconds another gunshot cracked, sharp and close.
Dad: (low, firm) "Stay close. Keep your heads down. No noise."
They slipped into the yard, keeping to the shadows between the cabins. Nathan could feel his heartbeat in his throat. The air was heavy and tasted like iron. He clutched the strap of his backpack so hard his fingers hurt.
They moved fast but careful—ducking behind fences, stepping over corpses, avoiding main paths where both infected and fleeing civilians sprinted in wild, terrified herds. No one was organized anymore. The camp had lost whatever fragile structure it had left.
Near the mess hall, a crowd suddenly surged down a narrow path. Someone screamed "Gate's open!" and a wave of terrified people stampeded toward the vehicles. In the crush, Nathan was shoved sideways hard.
He spun, trying to grab Aaron's sleeve—but missed. Another push sent him backward. For a split second, all he saw was a blur of bodies and smoke.
Then—they were gone.
Nathan: (shouting) "Dad!! Aaron!! MOM!!"
His voice was swallowed by the chaos.
He stumbled into a cluster of overturned barrels, ducking instinctively as a soldier's rifle barked nearby. His chest burned with panic. He looked around frantically—faces everywhere, none familiar. His hands shook as he gripped the edge of a wall, trying to steady his breathing.
Then he heard it.Her voice.
Mom: (faint, desperate) "Nathan!! Aaron!!"
It was coming from the direction of the outer fences, near one of the storage sheds.
Nathan: (gasping) "Mom…"
He ran. He didn't think, didn't plan—he just ran toward her voice.
He rounded the corner and saw her.
His mom was backing away slowly from an infected that had emerged from the shadows behind a broken generator. Her eyes were wide, hands up as if to keep it at bay. She didn't see it in time.
The creature lunged, slamming into her back and sinking its teeth into her shoulder blade. Her scream ripped through the air, raw and bloodcurdling.
Nathan: "MOM!!"
He sprinted toward her, but before he could reach them, a gunshot rang out.
BANG!
A female soldier appeared from behind a half-burned truck. Her uniform was smeared with dirt and blood, eyes wild with adrenaline. She raised her rifle and shot the infected in the head, the bullet blowing out the back of its skull. The creature dropped instantly.
Nathan skidded to his knees beside his mother.
She was on the ground, trembling, hands pressed against the bloody wound on her back. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with soot.
Mom: (sobbing) "Nathan… baby, I… I don't wanna die… Please… don't let me die…"
Nathan shook his head frantically.
Nathan: "No, no, no—you're gonna be okay. We'll get help, we'll—"
The soldier lowered her rifle slightly, looking at the wound, then at Nathan. She had seen it too many times before.
Soldier: (quiet, firm) "She's been bitten."
Nathan: (panicked) "NO! She just—she just needs a doctor! There's still time!"
Soldier: "There's no time. You know what happens. We can't risk it."
Mom: (begging) "Please… I don't want to turn… please…"
Nathan's chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe. His mom's hands clawed at his sleeve like she was trying to hold onto reality itself.
The soldier took a slow breath, lifted the rifle, and aimed at her head.
Nathan threw himself forward.
Nathan: "WAIT!!"
BANG.
The gunshot exploded in his ears.
His mother's body jerked once, then went limp in his arms. Blood splattered across his cheek and shirt. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, mouth frozen mid-plea.
The world around Nathan went silent.
His heartbeat thundered in his skull. The screams, the gunfire, the burning crackle of cabins—all of it dimmed like he was underwater. He just stared at her face. His mom.Gone.
The soldier's voice was faint and shaky behind him.
Soldier: "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't—"
BANG.
Her head snapped back violently, a bullet tearing through her skull. She collapsed instantly beside them.
Nathan spun.
His dad was standing several meters away, gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. His face was streaked with tears, but his eyes burned with fury and grief.
He had seen everything.
For a moment, father and son just stared at each other through the haze. Nathan's vision blurred with tears. His father's lower lip trembled, but his grip on the gun was steady.
Then his dad rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Nathan. He grabbed Nathan by the shoulders, shaking him hard.
Dad: (desperate) "Nathan! Nathan, look at me. We have to move. Do you hear me? We have to go."
Nathan's mind was breaking apart. His ears rang. His breathing came in shallow gasps. His eyes stayed locked on his mother's body lying limp on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Dad: "Nathan! She's gone. We can't help her. I'm not losing you too. Get up!"
Nathan didn't respond. He barely even blinked. Tears streamed down his face, hot and endless, mixing with the blood spattered on his skin.
His dad grabbed him tighter, practically hauling him to his feet. Nathan stumbled forward, his legs weak, his vision foggy.
As his dad dragged him through the smoke and chaos, Nathan looked back one last time.
His mom's body lay crumpled in the dirt, still, forever.
And something inside him shattered.