for her birthday two months ago.  Her throat was ripped open, a gaping hole in her beautiful skin! 

The man beneath her was covered in blood.  It coated his face and clothes, and his arms were wrapped tightly around her neck.  Drake noticed that same weird finger-like extension on the back of his head, the stalk with the flower-shaped bulb at the end of it, which would have been beautiful had it not been made from human tissue.  Blood had gathered along the floor of the bus, and hundreds of flies were feasting on it. His stomach turned, and he gagged, swallowing vomit back down again.   The stench was unbearable.  The stench of rot.  Of death.

He backpedalled hastily out of the bus, gasping for fresh air as he fell to the ground.  Amanda rushed over, trying to see...

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