章 44: Chapter 44
Horero sat by the window, his small hands pressed against the glass, watching the world outside. His family had tried to ignore the strange tremors, the vibrations in the ground. But the ants… they weren't from around here.
No one knew what they were, not really, but it didn't matter. People were dead, and the city was burning. The screams outside never stopped.
It had been three days since the first of them fell, a massive object from the sky that cracked open like a rotten egg, spilling out hundreds—thousands—of giant ants. Their bodies were too big to be normal.
Legs longer than a person, bodies like small trucks. And their eyes—too many eyes. Horero had seen one up close when it killed his father. The way its mandibles clicked together. That thing had no mercy.
He had tried to get out, running through the back door, but the world had changed too quickly. The ants moved through buildings like they weren't there. They didn't care for walls or windows. They didn't care for anything.
They only cared about people.
The first night, Horero had hidden under his bed, his body pressed flat to the floor as the sounds of their attacks echoed through the neighborhood. His mother had said it would be okay. She'd told him they'd figure it out. But her voice was shaking.
She was scared, just like everyone else. That night, she was gone. The ants had taken her. She didn't scream.
The boy clutched a baseball bat now. The wood felt wrong in his hands, too heavy, like it wasn't meant to be used for this. But he wasn't stupid. He knew what the ants would do if they caught him. He wasn't going to wait for that to happen. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.
He had heard stories about people who tried to fight back. They died fast. They had to. The ants could kill with a single strike, and their numbers were too great.
The survivors? They were gone now, scattered, running away from cities that had already been devoured. Some say there were no survivors, though. There were only the lucky ones who got away.
Horero's hands shook as he grabbed the bat tighter. He moved quietly through the broken streets, passing the wrecked cars and buildings that no longer looked like homes. His shoes were covered in blood, some of it his own. He didn't want to look at it.
He couldn't stop moving. There was no place left to hide. He wasn't even sure why he was still going. His stomach growled, but he had nothing to eat. His throat was dry, and he could feel his skin starting to crack. Maybe they would find him soon. He wasn't sure if that was worse than starving to death first.
But then he heard it—the clicking of legs on the pavement.
He froze.
The sound was coming from behind him. The sound grew louder.
He spun around.
A single ant, bigger than a car, stood in front of him. Its body glistened in the dim light. The legs scraped the ground, the mandibles snapping in and out like a sick game.
Horero's hands dropped the bat. He had no chance. He didn't even want to run anymore. There was nowhere to go.
The ant stepped forward, and its mandibles closed around his chest. He could feel them sink into his ribs, hear the sound of his bones breaking. He didn't scream.
He had nothing left to scream about.
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