Before we got out, June snatched a crowbar off a store shelf—no time to be picky. I grabbed the mop near the back door, snapped it in half like a makeshift spear. It was a shit weapon, but at this point, anything was better than nothing.
We slammed open the back door.
And there he was.
Belgo.
Or what was left of him.
Their gruesome mouths were stuffed with his flesh, ripping and tearing like starved animals. Blood slicked their faces, dripped from their teeth. **His hand—**no, that wasn’t just ripped off. It was crushed. Bone splintered, skin mangled beyond recognition. He lay there, barely clinging on, his screams fading into weak, gurgled noises.
And suddenly, everything in my mind snapped into place.
No more confusion. No more haze. No more bullshit fear.
I saw the scene for what it was. Real. And I had to act.
June was already moving. She stormed in first, swinging the crowbar straight into the freak’s skull. Crack. Its jaw snapped sideways, sending it tumbling onto the pavement.
I didn’t hesitate. The next freak was right there—I lunged, ramming my broken mop handle straight into its heart.
It should have died. It should have stopped moving.
But it didn’t.
The thing kept coming.
It shoved against me, its rotten, decayed body pressing forward like nothing happened. Its flesh wasn’t just wounded—it was rotting. Peeling off in chunks, exposing blackened muscle and teeth set in a permanent, skinless grin.
“What the fuck?!” I snarled, trying to hold it back. Its heart was pierced! How was it still moving?!
Just drop dead already, you freak!
It pushed harder, its disgusting, rotting hands grabbing at me.
Then June saved me again.
With one brutal swing, her crowbar caved in its skull. The body twitched violently, then dropped, blood pooling around its shattered head.
I panted, gripping my broken mop, my fingers digging into the wood.
I hated this.
I hated that I froze.
I hated that June had to save me—again.
But why the hell wasn’t this freak like the one inside the store? This one was strong too, pushing against me with raw force—but the one we encountered earlier? That thing was vicious, feral, something straight out of a nightmare. It didn’t just attack; it hunted, moved like a goddamn beast, leaping around like it had no weight. This one was different—rotting, decayed, dead for days or even weeks but still strong as hell.
What the hell was going on?
“We need to get him to a medic. Now!” June’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.
She ran for the nearest car.
“The hell are you doing? We don’t have keys!” I shouted after her.
She didn’t even glance at me. She wedged the crowbar under the steering column, pried the cover off, and started fumbling with the wires.
I turned back to Belgo. He was barely conscious, his eyelids fluttering.
I grabbed his remaining arm, pulled him up as gently as I could.
“Don’t worry, Belgo. We’re getting out of here.”
I didn’t even know if that was true. Hell, I didn’t know if we’d make it past the next minute. But it was all I could say—to him, to myself—just something to hold on to.
Even with all the shit between us, I wasn’t gonna leave him behind.
We’re getting out of here.
Just you wait, Belgo.
He tried to speak. His lips trembled, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’m… sorry… Ethan… I saw him… I… couldn’t—” the hell he was talking about?
I froze.
“What?”
His eyes were glassy, unfocused. Maybe he was just hallucinating. Maybe the blood loss was making him talk nonsense. But something about the way he said it made my stomach turn.
What the fuck did he mean by that?
And why the hell was I still thinking about how I froze back there?
Why did I just stand there like a useless sack of shit? Why couldn’t I move like June? She was stronger than me. Faster than me. Smarter than me.
Shit. Is this all I can do?
I clenched my jaw, disgusted with myself.
Then I saw Dunwich.
And my stomach dropped.
The town was burning.
A deep, hellish glow filled the horizon. Thick, black smoke curled toward the sky. Even from here, I could see figures moving through the streets. Literal hell.
Freaks. Swarming. Spreading.
And the screams. Even though I couldn’t hear them from this far, I felt them.
And then it hit me.
My father.
I had been so caught up in all this bullshit, I hadn’t even thought about him until now.
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Was he still alive? Did he get out in time?
Is he—
No. No, he’s alive. He has to be. I have to believe that. I can’t lose focus.
Right now, I had to help Belgo. Then I’d find him.
“Hey! What’s your plan with the car?” I yelled.
June didn’t look up, fingers twisting wires. “I don’t know! Lizzie taught me how to hotwire once. Did it before—but it was an old model.”
“The fuck do you mean ‘but’?!”
“Shut the hell up, Ethan, and just get him in the damn car! This is our only chance!”
I growled under my breath but did as she said, hauling Belgo into the back seat.
He was bleeding out. Bad.
I pressed my hand against the wound. Too much blood. Too much.
“We need bandages. He’s not gonna survive if we don’t—”
“I’ll get them,” June said firmly. “Just let me start this thing, then you drive.”
“But he—”
“Just shut up and listen to me! Let me get this started, and then we go. Okay?!”
I exhaled sharply. “Okay.”
I waited.
I fucking hated waiting.
All I could do was watch—watch as Belgo’s life bled out, watch as June worked, watch as I stood here like a helpless idiot.
Because I was too scared to move.
Too afraid to act.
The freak from earlier—I could’ve killed it. It wasn’t that strong. I could have done something.
But I didn’t.
I just froze.
And now I was standing here, watching my friend die.
No. Not anymore.
June thought I was too scared to lose Belgo. But she was scared too.
She was scared to lose me.
I clenched my fists.
Move, Ethan. MOVE.
And then I did.
I ran.
Straight back to the store.
June’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip.
“Ethan, stop! You fucking idiot!”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I ignored her and kept running, pushing forward with everything I had.
I didn’t stop.
I wasn’t gonna just sit there and do nothing.
If I had to fight my way back through hell itself, then so be it.
I was done being a coward.
Freaks came at me from all directions, but I couldn’t stop. I hated leaving June behind, but I knew she could handle herself—hell, probably better than I could. Just wait till I get the damn bandages.
I sprinted back to the store, barely making it inside before one of those things could grab me. I slammed the door shut, breathing hard.
Weird shit just kept happening. These freaks—they weren’t all the same. The one chasing me had been struggling to lift its own leg, moving like its body was too heavy for it. But earlier, some of them were jumping and throwing themselves around like rabid animals. What the hell was going on? Some of them were super strong, others barely even moved. There was no pattern, no logic to any of it.
I shoved those thoughts aside. Didn’t matter right now. There was a first aid kit in the employee lounge, hanging on the wall—I remembered seeing it before. I just had to get there fast.
I pushed deeper into the store. No sign of any freaks. Lucky.
I reached the employee lounge and cracked the door open—
—And froze.
The room was full of them.
Not moving. Not growling. Just standing there.
I shut the door. Immediately.
Shit.
That might've been too loud. Too damn loud.
I stood there, heart hammering, every inch of me screaming not to move. If they heard that—if they noticed me—this was over. I swallowed hard, pressing my back against the wall. Did they hear it? Did they care?
Did they see me? No. No sudden movement, no reaction. But what the fuck were they doing? How the hell did they even get in here?
Then I heard it.
A low, eerie humming.
A sound that made my stomach twist because I knew—I knew—these things weren’t supposed to sing.
Jesus Christ, what now? First they’re monsters, now they’re having a goddamn choir session? I was done. I was fucking done. No more surprises. No more weird shit. Just let me grab the first aid kit and get the hell out of here.
But that sound…
I pressed my ear to the door, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t just noise. It was rhythmic, like a song. A song I didn’t recognize, but something about it felt… familiar.
June might know something.
I cracked the door open just a little—just enough to see.
They weren’t moving.
They weren’t even breathing.
They just stood there, swaying slightly, heads bowed, humming in unison.
Like they were praying.
I grabbed a beer bottle and chucked it through the crack in the door, hoping to make the freaks inside turn toward the noise and shuffle in a different direction. But they didn’t move.
“The fuck?” I muttered under my breath.
I grabbed another and hurled it harder. The glass shattered against the far wall, spraying shards everywhere. Still, nothing. They didn’t so much as flinch.
What the hell was going on? If these things reacted to sound, then why weren’t they moving? Then it hit me. They were praying. The freaks didn’t move when they were in that state.
Was it a hunch? Yeah. Was it a gamble? Absolutely. But I didn’t have much of a choice.
I slowly pushed the door open. It creaked, and my breath caught in my throat. My grip tightened around the cracked beer bottle in my hand, my only damn weapon. If these bastards suddenly turned, I’d bolt, no second-guessing. No playing hero. Just grab some alcohol and clothes for the wound and get the hell out.
But they didn’t turn.
I stepped inside. The air was thick with the rancid stench of rotting flesh and something even worse—like mildew, piss, and burning meat all mixed together. My stomach churned, but I swallowed it down. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting sickly white patches over the crowd of unmoving freaks.
I kept my steps slow, my breath shallow. I moved behind them, past their twitching, half-broken bodies, toward the first aid kit hanging on the wall. Just as I reached it, my fingers brushing against the plastic case—
One of them moved.
The fucker twitched, shuddered, then suddenly broke out of his trance. He turned his head, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets before locking onto me. A guttural snarl tore from his throat as he lunged.
“Shit!”
I barely had time to react. My grip tightened on the broken bottle, ready to stab the bastard in the face if I had to—
Then he tripped.
Or at least… it looked like he got tripped. Another one of the freaks had moved its leg just in time to catch him mid-sprint. The psycho hit the ground hard, face smacking against the floor with a wet crunch.
I blinked. The hell was that?
But before I could even try to wrap my head around it, the entire room shifted.
The praying stopped.
A shiver ran down my spine as every freak, in perfect unison, turned toward the one on the floor. They didn’t look at me. They didn’t screech and charge at me.
They pounced on him.
Like a fucking pack of wolves, they tore into the fallen psycho, ripping at his flesh with their jagged, rotting teeth. The sound of slurping, tearing, chewing filled the air. One of them bit down on his stomach, pulling out a rope of intestines that slapped against the floor with a sickening splat.
I stood there for a second, frozen in pure, gut-wrenching horror.
Then my brain kicked in. No time to think, just fucking run.
I bolted.
As I burst through the doorway, gasping for air, I spotted June at the front of the store. The car was running. She was filling the fuel tank, moving as fast as she could, her head snapping up the second she saw me.
“Come on, you dumbass! Running off like a fucking kid!” she shouted.
I ignored her and sprinted toward the car. I was almost there—almost fucking there—when something slammed into me from the side.
I hit the pavement hard. My head smacked against the concrete, stars exploding in my vision. A weight pressed down on my chest, rotten breath washing over my face.
The freak was on top of me.
Its mouth snapped inches from my throat, its dead, milky eyes rolling in hunger. I pushed against it, arms shaking, but the thing was strong. Too strong. The only reason it got me was because I was distracted for one goddamn second.
“Fucking—get off me, you piece of shit!” I gritted my teeth, trying to force it back.
It wasn’t enough.
I could feel my arms giving out. My muscles burned. If I lost this struggle, that thing would tear my throat open, and I’d die like a fucking idiot.
Then, something clattered against the ground beside me.
The crowbar.
“Ethan, the head! The fucking head!” June’s voice rang out.
I didn’t think—I just moved. My hand shot out, grabbing the crowbar, and with all the strength I had left, I slammed it through the freak’s skull.
A wet, crunching noise filled my ears as the crowbar cracked through bone and brain. The psycho twitched violently, then went still.
I shoved the corpse off me, panting, drenched in blood. My hands were shaking, but I was alive.
“Holy fuck…” I exhaled, wiping my face with my sleeve. No time to dwell on it—I grabbed the first aid kit, stumbled to my feet, and ran to June.
The street behind me was crawling with freaks now. The ones from inside the store had finally noticed me, shuffling out from behind the shelves, their hollow eyes locked onto me. The door I had just escaped from shattered as the ones inside spilled out, their faces and hands still slick with the blood of their own kind.
June yanked the gas pump out of the tank and threw it aside.
“We gotta move! Now!” she barked.
I dove into the car, slamming the door shut just as June floored the gas. The tires screeched, smoke curling from the asphalt as we peeled out of there.
I turned back once, just for a second, and saw the horde swarming the gas station. Their twisted bodies, their gnashing teeth, their lifeless, empty stares.
The whole town was going to hell.
And we were barely getting started.