He saw the first one near the burned-out church. A shape, upright, standing too still at the side of the road. In the high beams, it didn’t flinch. It was a man—or had been. His skin was the color of dried clay, stretched tight over a skull that seemed a little too long. But it was the eyes that made Mickey’s foot slip off the accelerator. They were wide, lidless, and reflected the Jeep’s light like wet river stones. They didn't blink. They just watched .
“Lena?” he shouted, his voice swallowed by the absolute silence.
He found Lena’s car nosed into a ditch. The doors were open. The dome light was on, buzzing a single, frantic fly against the glass.
He saw the first one near the burned-out church. A shape, upright, standing too still at the side of the road. In the high beams, it didn’t flinch. It was a man—or had been. His skin was the color of dried clay, stretched tight over a skull that seemed a little too long. But it was the eyes that made Mickey’s foot slip off the accelerator. They were wide, lidless, and reflected the Jeep’s light like wet river stones. They didn't blink. They just watched .
“Lena?” he shouted, his voice swallowed by the absolute silence.
He found Lena’s car nosed into a ditch. The doors were open. The dome light was on, buzzing a single, frantic fly against the glass.