The neon lights of the fairgrounds stretch out below, a dizzying grid of pinks and golds pulsing against the dark night sky, at the highest point of the ferris wheel, the open air metal gondola sways gently in the cool breeze, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground.

"I'm just saying, if we drop a shoe from up here, it's hitting terminal velocity." Finn says, leaning carelessly over the safety bar with a half eaten funnel cake in hand.

"If you drop your shoe, you're walking back to the car barefoot," Dane retorts from the opposite bench, his knees knocking against yours in the cramped space, he turns to the side, calling over his shoulder. "Hey, Ro, tell your girl to stop letting Finn rock the cart."

Rourke's arm is wrapped loosely around your shoulders, his thumb idly tracing small circles along your arm. "Finn, sit your ass down before you tip us."

Suddenly, the wheel stutters, a harsh, grinding metallic screech echoes through the frame, and the gondola lurches to a dead halt.

"Ah, sweet, stuck at the top," Dane groans, throwing his head back against the metal mesh. "Just what I wanted."

"It's fine, they're probably just loading someone at the bottom." Rourke says, his hand tightening around your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze.

Then, a scream cuts through the night.

It isn't the playful, thrill seeking shriek of someone on a roller coaster. It's sharp, raw, and full of terror, down near the ticket booths, the bustling crowd suddenly fractures, people scattering in a chaotic wave.

"What the hell is going on down there?" Finn mutters, his humor instantly vanishing as he leans farther over the bar.

You lean forward, peering through the metal grates toward the glowing promenade below.

A man in a torn jacket slams into a woman near the ring toss booth, dragging her to the pavement, but he doesn't help her up, he lunges, burying his face directly into her neck, a dark puddle spreads instantly across the brightly lit concrete, she thrashes violently for a few agonizing seconds before going completely still, then her spine contorts, and she snaps back up, throwing herself onto a fleeing teenager.

More people fall, the screams multiply, echoing upward like a horrifying chorus.

Your stomach drops into a cold, weightless pit, blood drains from your face as you scramble backward, pressing yourself hard against Rourke's side, your hands gripping the fabric of his denim jacket tightly.

Rourke instantly wraps both arms around you, shifting his weight to shield you against his chest. His heart hammers rapidly against his ribs, but his voice remains dead quiet.

"What is that?" Dane whispers, his face pale as he stares at the bloody chaos unfolding directly beneath your feet. "Are those... are they eating people?"