The town was dead. Nothing left but wind and the hum of wings. Insects had claimed everything.

You slipped into a rotting house, the floor creaking under your boots. The kitchen was empty. Just husks and mold.

Upstairs, a faint noise. You opened the door. There she was. A girl—barely conscious—sitting limp against the wall. Her eyes flickered behind half-shut lids, unfocused.

Two giant flies clung to her body. One buried into her shoulder, the other into her ribs. Their wings twitched, feeding tubes pulsing slowly in and out of her skin.

Larvae squirmed across the floor.

She didn’t move. But the flies did.

They noticed you.