Suddenly, I stumble and trip over something. I hold my breath as I inspect the gory mass of hair and tissue. Oh God. I think it was a human: there’s a long knife underneath the remains of a hand. Where’s the rest of the arm? Using the sleeve of my jacket, I grab the knife and sprint, leaving the rotting soul behind.
Only the emergency station is on as I run through the streets of New Australia. I guess the generators haven’t run out yet. The rest of the city is quiet and abandoned, stinking with the foul reek of death and disuse. Steam rises up from the cracks in the debris-cluttered roads, giving the already eerie city a supernatural aura.
Andrew Sanders jerked awake. What had woke him? Ah! There it is again! That insistent tapping. Now it had turned to hammering. He turned to see if Leigha had woken up, but she was still dreaming peacefully. He got up to look around, contemplating going upstairs to tell his neighbors to shut the hell up. He opened his door to run up the carpeted stairwell when he looked up. The stairs went nowhere.
Everyone here calls it the Incident even though no one’s sure how it started. At first we all thought Old Mag and his wife were breeding them as a hobby, but soon there were too many to have come from their four goats. They just started appearing anywhere there was a bit of grass, nibbling away. They were all different kinds too. Black ears, white tails, brown spots, some even had an extra leg.