The first attacker didn't even groan as he stood again.
His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, shoulders slack, and yet—his body moved, limbs jerking with eerie purpose as he lunged toward me a second time. Anthony met him halfway with a brutal elbow to the jaw, knocking him back into the grass.
But he wasn't alone anymore.
From the shadows between the trees, from the forgotten benches, from behind the cracked fountain—figures emerged. Slow at first, then faster.
They didn't scream or speak. They just moved.
All of them toward me.
"Anthony!" I shouted, drawing my sidearm.
"Already on it!" he yelled, dropping the attacker again with a sharp kick to the chest. "What the hell is this, boss?!"
I didn't have an answer. Not a real one.
Another figure—a woman with grey hair and jogging shoes—lunged at me from the left. I ducked under her arms and swept her legs. She hit the ground, twitched once, then started crawling.
"Elliot!" I barked, glancing back.
