After much soul-searching, I have decided to write a few short stories, unrelated to the other works, before continuing on with the next of the Shadow Wolf Sagas, just to keep it fresh. As always, this is raw and uncut; enjoy responsibly.
Huge watery eyes, grey-green flesh that looked like it was half-melted like an old candle, and a gaping, triangular maw characterized the creatures that I saw before me. They teach us that Groaners are just degenerate men, driven mad by toxins or bestial by lack of order, but I could hardly credit that as they swarmed over the heap of ruined flesh that was one of their number.
Amy with the mohawk held her enormous gun leveled at the Groaners, but made no further move, save to check the tunnel behind us.
The closest Groaner met my eyes. It was like looking into deep, murky water. The maw yawned open and it hissed at me, revealing a freakishly large gullet full of glistening serrated teeth. Then it began to scramble forward, the others hissing in its wake.
I felt Amy with the mohawk`s gun fire again. Saw the word ‘DEATH’ flash down the hall, hit the charging Groaner and flow into the corpse as the bullet blew through it, splattering thick blackish blood all over its comrades. The word became part the Groaner somehow, killing it with a finality that seemed to overshadow the bullet.
The Groaners behind stopped, hissing at us, and then swarmed onto their dead packmate, ripping at the flesh, biting great chunks out of the flesh. Some of them began to feast on the first Groaner as well.
“Groaners are reasonable when it comes down to it,” said Amy with the mohawk as we backed away. “If there is enough food to go around, they won’t bother to chase you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, chum. It is a long walk to the safe zone and I would never hear the end of it if I lost another one to Groaners.”