I stared at the vast landscape of death and decay until I spotted the source of the disturbance.
A corpse twitched. No. Seized.
At first, I thought I imagined it. The dead don’t move. But then, the bloated skin convulsed, rippling like something alive was struggling and bubbling beneath it.
A bulge pushed outward just beneath the corpse’s stomach. The skin stretched tight, veins bulging as though the body was pregnant with something violent. The thing inside pushed again, harder this time, its shape pressing against the flesh. A hand? A claw? A mouth?
The corpse lurched violently, its ribs snapping inward from the unnatural pressure.
And then, with a wet tearing sound, whatever was inside punched through.
Gray. Blood-slicked. Fingers curled into claws as they tore through flesh like wet paper. The belly ripped open, splitting wider, exposing the hollow cavity within. The body jerked as if resisting, but the thing inside was stronger.
A second hand followed.
Then shoulders.
Then a grotesque, emaciated form pulled itself free, dripping with viscera.
My breath locked in my throat. Every muscle in my tiny, useless body screamed to run, but I couldn’t. It was impossible. My limbs were weak, unresponsive, and slow. Even if they weren’t, I doubt I could have moved. My entire body felt as though it had been weighed down by the burden of my own terror.
The…thing…slithered free, dripping in dark, glistening fluid. I could smell it from where I lay. It overwhelmed even the stagnant corpse smell on the beach. It was wrong—source, metallic, festering. I wanted to gag, but even that would make noise I couldn’t afford.
The creature looked humanoid, but everything else about its form was a mistake. Its skin was pale and gray, and its legs and arms were too long and skinny. The creature was frail-looking, and its skin stuck to its bones.
Every nerve in my body screamed “danger” as I calmed my breath and body to a standstill. I didn’t know what the creature was and had no memory of seeing it before, but I knew in my heart that attracting its attention would mean my death.
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The creature crawled over the corpse, its thin, spidery limbs bending at unnatural angles. Its face twisted open, revealing teeth too long, too many, and too jagged to fit naturally in its mouth. But they did. It lowered itself, pressing its face against the dead flesh, and inhaled deeply. A slow, shuddering breath, like a starving animal savoring its meal before the first bite.
And then—
Crunch!
Bone snapped like dry twigs underfoot. Flesh tore in wet, stringy strands as it ripped the head free, twisting, chewing, slurping. A sickening squelch followed as teeth scraped against cartilage, tearing muscle from bone with a wet pop.
It devoured with practiced hunger engrained within this newborn predator.
I watched in horror as the creature feasted. It stripped flesh and meat like a panda eating bamboo.
The final bites sedated the creature. It licked its lips and sat down on the ground. Its swollen belly jiggled against its taunt skin and thin bones.
Try as I might, I could not look away.
After an hour, the creature stood again. Its gaze cast over the beach before landing on the body closest to it. Slinking toward the potential meal like a cautious primate, it hovered over the body of a deceased man in his mid-forties. Like with the last corpse, it started with the head and worked its way down until it had its fill. Sated, it sat down again, though this time entirely on its back.
The creature began to snore. Gore caked its face. It was a few feet away, and there were many bodies between me and it. But given its appetite, unless something distracted it, its hunger would eventually fall to me, a mere snack ending in a bite or two.
All I could do was wait for that to happen.
That thing fed in intervals. Not constantly, not mindlessly—but in cycles.
It would gorge itself until its stomach swelled, then retreat—a bloated, satisfied thing. It lay motionless in the sand for hours, rising only when hunger stirred it again.
I watched. I listened. Every time it moved, my breath caught in my throat, my muscles tense with anticipation.
At night, it was worse. I could only hear it—guess where it was.
With the morning sun, I finally saw it again to check its progress.
The wait was worse than dying.
My world had shrunk to the sound of chewing.
Bite. Tear. Swallow. Pause. Repeat.
The rhythm was unbearable. Each bite was a countdown, each pause a moment of false hope.
There were two bodies left.
One.
The creature stopped. It sniffed the air, its pupil-less eyes tilting in my direction.
I had nothing left. No power. No choices. My turn was coming soon. I should have cried. Screamed. Ended my misery. But even that was beyond me.
The creature lumbered over me. My mother’s body was in the way, but it did nothing to hide the sounds of the beast overhead.
Using what little strength I had, I scooted closer to my mother’s stomach in anticipation of the creature’s patterns. As soon as I did, a pair of hands gripped my mother’s head. They crushed her skull like fruit as hungered lips lapped up the aftermath.
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t think. My brain shut down from the terror.
All I could do was watch as the body hiding me slowly got eaten and torn.