Chapter 11: Vulture Design
Step. Step.
The crunch of gravel beneath their boots echoed faintly in the still air. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a deep orange radiance that bled across the clouds like fire smeared on canvas. Twilight approached, and with it came long shadows and a dimming world.
Two men moved along the main street—one with a ragged backpack and a crude bone spear slung over his shoulder, the other gripping a revolver, its chambers empty. Behind the second man was Yuki.
So far, their path had been lined with—cars left abandoned mid-escape, some rammed into buildings, others crushed in head-on collisions. Shattered glass glittered like fallen stars along the roadside, and a silence clung to everything, broken only by the sounds of their footsteps.
Grrr!
A guttural snarl cracked the stillness like a whip.
Both men snapped their heads left. Inside a half-collapsed car, a figure thrashed—skin pallid and bloated, its face a grotesque patchwork of bite marks and blackened veins. A zombie, hopelessly wedged between a buckled seat and a warped steering wheel.
"That’s the ugliest one we’ve seen yet," Tevin muttered, stepping forward.
With a fluid motion, he hurled his bone spear. It sliced through the air with a whistle and struck the zombie square between the eyes.
The body slumped forward.
Merek’s eyes gleamed faintly as the spear wobbled mid-air, then began to hum. It lifted, rotated once, and zipped back toward them, now carrying a faintly glowing essence core near its tip.