They kept running even if their legs burned and their lungs were on fire.
Then came the screech of tires, a sharp, grating sound that sliced through the night air.
A black pickup skidded around the corner and blocked the end of the street ahead, cutting off their escape. They looked back toward the way they came and saw, far in the distance, the rest of the Vultures still fighting off the herd.
The man stood in the truck bed, rifle raised. His eyes scanned them, then the area, wild and bloodshot, spitting curses before he even spoke.
"Don't fucking move!" he shouted.
The gun pointed directly at them. Iyisha froze.
The man wore leather, and on his right cheek, a scarred-in letter V. He looked half-wild, his eyes red from adrenaline.
"If either of you so much as blink, I'll drop you! You fucking bitch," he snarled, eyes locked on Iyisha. "If any of my boys got bit, we'll rape you and eat your little boyfriend here while you watch!"
Iyisha's body locked up, breath stalling in her throat. Her eyes darted to Malcolm—desperate, terrified.
Iyisha flinched. Something moved behind the truck—fast. Too fast.
Then she saw it.
A twitcher.
It moved like a shadow unleashed, fast, low, and utterly silent until it was too late. Then it sprang, limbs blurring through the air, jaws wide like a trap snapping shut.
The man didn't even turn in time.
The creature collided with him mid-sentence, teeth ripping into his neck. Blood sprayed. He screamed and fired wildly, rounds slamming into the truck. One pierced the cabin.
The driver slumped forward.
It painted the windshield from the inside. Crimson streaks, thick and wet. It was everywhere—so much, she wasn't sure whose it was.
The others must still be on foot somewhere behind them.
She couldn't look away. Blood sprayed. She didn't know if it was the man's or the monster's.
Her body refused to move.
Malcolm didn't speak. He just grabbed her, pulled her behind the nearest cover as the screaming stopped.
And silence took over again.
Iyisha didn't move as Malcolm slowly drew his sidearm. Her hands trembled as she reached for her own, the weight of it unfamiliar in her grip. That twitcher had been so fast, nothing like the one she'd seen before.
It was the first one that had crawled on all fours.
Now they listened.
The sound of flesh being torn had stopped.
Iyisha's breath caught. Somewhere above, the twitcher had finished feeding.
She clutched her gun tighter.
Malcolm edged forward, just enough to peek from their cover.
Iyisha flinched when the twitcher let out a low, guttural snarl, a sound that made her stomach twist.
"Let's go," Malcolm said under his breath.
He pulled her with him, staying low.
Iyisha looked back.
She saw the twitcher's silhouette vanishing into the night, sprinting in the opposite direction toward downtown, where the echoes of gunfire still rang through the buildings.
They cut through alleyways, ducked under fences, and stumbled through thorny overgrowth behind a half-collapsed yard. Malcolm checked every corner using a cracked mirror shard he'd picked up days ago.
Iyisha spotted a storm drain. They crawled in, cold metal scraping their backs. It was narrow and tight, but it gave them a moment, one breath of silence.
"They'll track us," she panted.
"Not if we vanish."
When they emerged, the neighborhood had thinned. Houses stood farther apart now, less dense, more rural. Fields of weeds swayed in the breeze. The air was colder here.
Most of the houses looked like they had been dead for years. Roofs sagged. Windows were nothing but shattered holes. Some porches had collapsed entirely, and vines crept through broken walls.
"Can we hide inside one of these?" Iyisha asked, voice hoarse.
Malcolm glanced at them with hollow frames of what used to be homes.
"We could," he said. "But they'll check those first. Too obvious. We need somewhere they won't look. Let's go."
They started running again for what felt like hours. Iyisha's legs ached with every step, her breath ragged, vision tunneling, but she didn't stop.
But then, she noticed it, the surrounding dark beginning to lift. The world around them was getting brighter, faintly touched by the approaching dawn.
Her heart sank.
In this light, they'd be exposed. Easier to spot and easier to track and easier to kill.
"I'm sorry," Iyisha gasped, slumping against the broken wall, struggling to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell in painful bursts. "This is the first time... I've ever run like this. I can't... I can't move anymore."
Malcolm didn't say a word. He just looked at her.
Her voice cracked. "You should go. Leave me. You can get away—get help—come back for me later."
Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them. She reached for his hand and gripped it tight. "I'll hide somewhere."
His jaw twitched, brows drawing together.
"Shut up," he muttered.
A car engine rumbled in the distance.
He grabbed her again, pulling her deeper into the remains of the house.
The house was more ruin than shelter. Its roof had folded in like soft clay. Iyisha stumbled, legs giving out beneath her just as Malcolm caught her arm.
He pulled her into the caved-in side of the house, ducking under a fractured support beam.
Her breath hitched. "Malcolm," she whispered, voice barely audible. "I think I saw something. A hinge, maybe, under that debris. Like a door."
He stilled beside her, muscles tight. For a moment, neither of them breathed.
Outside, a vehicle screeched to a halt.
Doors slammed. Then a shout: "They're somewhere here!"
Iyisha's breath caught. Malcolm pulled her closer to the wall, eyes narrowed as more footsteps crunched through the debris.
"Tornado shelter," he muttered.
They cleared debris carefully. Beneath was a stairwell leading down into the dark.
Malcolm pulled Iyisha in after him and eased the metal door shut. He moved slowly and carefully, making sure the hinges didn't creak or the latch click. Every sound felt like a scream in the silence.
He didn't let go of her hand.
Darkness swallowed them.
They crouched in pitch black. Iyisha covered her mouth, her labored breathing too loud for her own ears. Every inhale sounded like thunder in the quiet.
Above them, boots thudded against broken floorboards.
Rough voices echoed above. "They're down here somewhere!"
Another growled, "When I find them, I'll put a bullet through both their skulls."
Iyisha trembled, every muscle locked as if even her heartbeat might give them away. Malcolm's hand found hers again and squeezed.