I'd never stopped to consider the logistical challenges of driving with a broken, bleeding nose.
Now I knew: it was a sticky, painful hell. Every pothole sent shockwaves of agony straight to my brain. Blood kept dripping—hot and thick—staining my shirt, the steering wheel, my hands.
I tried wiping it with my sleeve, only succeeding in smearing my misery across the Chevvie's already battered interior.
And my unwanted passengers' commentary wasn't helping.
"Watch it, dumbass! Trying to kill us before we get there?" Marco bellowed for the umpteenth time from the passenger seat, his bulk making the suspension creak with every vicious bump.
We'd left behind even the last remnants of civilization. Abandoned warehouses gave way to empty lots, then to barely-marked dirt roads snaking through low hills covered in dry brush and stunted trees.
The darkness was near-total, broken only by the Chevvie's trembling headlights and the pale moonlight filtering through scattered clouds. The air smelled of dust and something else... something wild, primal.
Behind me, tense whispers filled the car—background noise that was fraying my nerves as much as the pain in my face.
"You need a doctor, Erik," Lilia insisted, her voice low but firm. "You're losing too much blood."
"Just a scratch... I'm fine..." Erik—now I knew his name—responded weakly, his words interrupted by shallow breaths. He was failing miserably at sounding convincing.
That's when I saw it.
Or maybe it was just the fifty-mile-per-hour wind screaming through the missing windshield playing tricks on my eyes. A shadow flickered at the edge of the headlights - low, fast, gone. The arctic blast through the empty frame made my broken nose throb like a second heartbeat.
"Didn't know there were coyotes out here," I shouted over the gale, immediately regretting how the air ripped the words from my mouth along with what little warmth I had left.
Silence. Of course they ignored me—too wrapped up in their life-or-death drama.
After a minute, Marco slowly turned to me, his face unreadable in the gloom. "What did you say?"
"Coyotes," I repeated, shrugging. "Or whatever those corpse-eating things are called... from The Lion King, you know?"
"Hyenas?" Marco frowned, his gaze sharpening. "No hyenas here. No big coyotes either. Where'd you see that?" He leaned forward, scanning the darkness beyond the window.
"Just now. Edge of the road. Came and went. Fast."
Marco went statue-still, barely breathing. I could see tension coiling in his massive shoulders. His head snapped toward me, eyes locking onto mine with alarming intensity.
"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!" he roared, the force of his voice vibrating the air.
Pure panic triggered my reflexes. I stomped the brake with all my weight. The Chevvie—never designed for sudden stops at this speed—protested with an agonized screech of metal and locked tires. The rear end lifted dangerously as we skidded violently across loose dirt.
Marco—who I noted with dark satisfaction wasn't wearing his seatbelt—became a human projectile. His enormous body shot through the missing windshield, landing with a heavy thud several meters ahead in the dusty road.
Chaos erupted behind me. Lilia screamed her brother's name while Erik cursed through gritted teeth as inertia slammed him into my seatback.
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For one glorious moment, a vicious smile twisted my bloody face. Marco down. Maybe... maybe this was my chance. I could escape—
Hope died as fast as it was born. Because the shadows I'd glimpsed weren't at the road's edge anymore. They were surrounding us. Emerging from the darkness—low, stalking figures moving with unnatural fluidity.
Marco had been right. Not coyotes. Not hyenas. I was no zoologist, but these looked nothing like any documentary creature. Wolf-sized but with segmented, insectoid bodies covered in chitinous exoskeletons that glinted faintly under the moonlight. Their legs ended in blade-sharp claws, their heads bulbous nightmares with multiple red eyes and chittering mandibles revealing needle-like teeth. Wolf-scorpion hybrids? Ridiculous. Impossible. Yet here they were.
Then the growling started—guttural, chirring sounds that made every hair stand on end. They approached the car slowly, deliberately, circling like patient scavengers.
"Shit!" Lilia yelled, drawing her pistol again.
Gunfire exploded inside the car, deafening. She shot through the broken passenger window, bullets sparking uselessly off the creatures' carapaces. The beasts barely flinched, just paused momentarily before advancing again.
Where the hell did she—No. Focus. The gun. Had I ever seen her reload? No. The math wasn’t adding up—she’d fired at least forty rounds from what looked like a tiny magazine.
Was she secretly an action movie hero?
In the road, illuminated by headlights like some macabre stage actor, Marco began moving.
But not like an injured man—like something... else.
A horrible cracking sound filled the night—bones rearranging, growing. His body convulsed, clothes tearing as his musculature expanded impossibly.
His fingernails blackened and elongated into claws as his jaw unhinged with a wet crack, teeth multiplying into jagged rows.
His skin darkened, thickened almost like bark. He roared—a deep, animal sound utterly inhuman—and his eyes burned with a savage green light.
"What is that?" I stammered, my mind struggling with the dual nightmares unfolding.
"That's my brother, asshole!" Lilia spat, her voice fierce with pride. "And he needs help!"
She kicked her door open and sprinted toward Marco, firing to keep the nearest creatures at bay. The chitinous beasts, previously focused on the car, suddenly shifted attention—drawn to the raw violence, to Marco's monstrous transformation. They swarmed him.
I watched Marco—or what had been Marco—charge into battle. His fists, now massive stone-like clubs, crushed exoskeletons with brutal force.
Claws raked his hardened skin, but he seemed immune to pain. It was primal, nightmarish combat—a whirlwind of savagery ripped from some fever dream. Lilia danced around him, covering his flanks with precise shots.
Kidnappers. Gunfights. And now... monsters and a werewolf... or whatever the hell that was? Screw this. My survival instinct, buried under layers of fear and pain, roared to life like a V8 engine.
I grabbed first gear, hands shaking but determined, ready to floor it and escape this hellscape.
Before I could move, an icy, surprisingly strong hand gripped my shoulder from behind—Erik's fingers digging in painfully.
Try it... and die, shitstain," he gasped, voice tight with pain.
I'd had enough.
Too much.
Adrenaline burned away the last shreds of reasonable fear.
I yanked the glovebox open and grabbed the first thing my fingers found—my trusty ballpoint pen, the one I used for delivery signatures. Metal. Heavy. Sharp tip. Without thinking, I twisted and stabbed it into the back of his hand with all my strength.
"Screw you!" I screamed, voice raw with fury.
Erik howled, recoiling instinctively. I slammed the accelerator.
The Chevvie roared, rear wheels spitting gravel as we lurched forward. Freedom! The perfect escape!
Except it wasn't.
I never saw the creature that leaped directly into our path. One of the chitinous beasts—larger than the others—its multiple red eyes gleaming with malice.
The impact was catastrophic. A metallic crunch, the sound of shattering exoskeleton, and the unmistakable death rattle of my poor Chevvie finally giving up.
The steering wheel spun wildly as the world became a blur of dirt, sky, and stars. We went airborne, flipping in a macabre pirouette.
By some twisted miracle, we landed upright with a teeth-rattling jolt.
The roof was dented, doors crumpled, but the frame held. My seatbelt had kept me from joining Marco's windshield exit. But the crash had been too much.
My vision tunneled, edges darkening.
The last thing I heard was Lilia screaming—not in fear, but in battle frenzy—as the darkness swallowed me whole.
Then everything went black.
