The engine of Neville's armored truck roared as the driver slammed the pedal down, tires kicking up dirt and shredded grass. The fissure's sickly glow shrank in the rearview, but the horde didn't.
"Keep firing!" The commander barked, leaning out the passenger window, his M4 spitting rounds into the swarm of scrawny, green-skinned creatures still chasing them. Their hollow-boned bodies crumpled under gunfire, but for every one that dropped, three more scrambled over its corpse.
Javier's truck veered alongside them, his mounted .50 cal thundering, cutting a bloody path through the creatures. Brass casings rained onto the road as the gunner yelled, "Eat shit, freaks!"
Then the ground trembled.
Neville's stomach lurched as something massive emerged from the fissure's glow.
