No moon. No stars. A ceiling of low, gray cloud pressed down on the ruined town, trapping every sound in a dome of dead air. The only light came from somewhere distant, a faint amber glow on the horizon that pulsed like a slow heartbeat.
A zombified dog stood in the middle of the intersection.
Its body was wrong. The ribs were visible through torn fur, the spine curved at an angle that living anatomy rejected. Its jaw hung open, the teeth long and yellow, the tongue black and swollen. Saliva dripped from its muzzle in thick, continuous strings that pooled on the asphalt. It growled. The sound was low, wet, carrying the distinct gurgle of something that had once been alive and was now running on borrowed biology.
The growl echoed off the empty buildings.
Then the air split.
