The screams started low, like a distant rumble of thunder, but within seconds, they crescendoed into a full-blown symphony of terror. Students scrambled over seats, pushing and shoving as they tried to get away from the windows. Some were crying, others shouting, but it was all drowned out by the chaos outside.

Rick’s gaze was locked on his mother and sister’s remains. Only moments ago, they had been smiling, waving. Now they were decapitated bodies on the ground. Did people die so easily?

When he blinked out of his trance, he noticed that the dust storm was gone. No, that wasn’t right. The dust storm was already here. They were inside it. Only, it wasn’t dust or debris that formed the storm. It was living things—a swarm of creatures, flying, slithering, and crawling through the air and across the ground. Beasts that defied reason, surging into the crowd of waiting parents, tearing into them with frenzied hunger.

Rick’s breath caught as his eyes locked onto one creature—a writhing mass of snakes, amorphous. It struck a man who had been standing near the school steps. The man's screams were cut short as the snakes sunk their fangs into his flesh, causing him to stiffen up like a manikin. The serpents slithered over his rigid form, winding themselves tighter and tighter, gluing his limbs to his sides. Soon, the man resembled a mummy, wrapped not in bandages, but snakes. With a final, collective lurch, the writhing horde dragged him into their pulsing, formless mass, the outline of his corpse briefly visible beneath the undulating coils before it was swallowed entirely.

Not far from there, a creature with the body of a horse and the head of a woman, galloped through the carnage. Its face was serene, almost beautiful, as it barreled into the crowd, trampling people under its hooves. One woman was stomped into the pavement with a sickening crunch, her bones splintering under the impact. The creature reared up and slammed its hooves down again and again, each blow reducing her to a mangled, bloody pulp—unrecognizable remains splattered across the pavement, a portrait of annihilation.

Rick felt bile rise in his throat, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Another serpentine creature slithered across the ground, its long, oily body shimmering with slick, black scales. Its eyes locked onto a father sprinting toward his child. The man barely had time to scream before the creature coiled around him, its massive body constricting tightly. Rick watched as the man’s body twisted under the pressure, blood oozing from his nose and mouth. A pop echoed as the man’s skull caved in, releasing a torrent of greyish-pink fluid. The child let out a piercing shriek, equally brief. A fusion of bird and mammal descended upon her, its talons gleaming. Leathery wings beat the air as it slashed across her small frame, tearing flesh from bone in a shower of blood.

The swarm thickened, more horrors joining the massacre. One creature had the hulking body of a bear but the face of an elderly man. It tore through the crowd with unstoppable force, its massive paws cleaving through people like they were made of paper, cutting lives short and screams shorter.

A large, bloated fly with an old man’s face buzzed over the carnage, scanning the chaos below with a look of almost bored indifference. When its gaze shifted, Rick's blood turn to ice. The fly’s eyes locked onto the bus, its wings humming louder as it approached. Before anyone could react, the creature shot through one of the shattered windows, its bloated body hovering in the aisle, buzzing like a chainsaw.

The students recoiled, pressing themselves against the seats in a desperate attempt to get away. But the fly didn’t care about them. It fixated on a boy sitting near the front, a quiet kid named Ethan who was too stunned to move. It hovered in front of him for a moment, its spindly legs twitching. Then, in one swift motion, it landed on the boy's face. Its legs gripped his cheeks like claws as its long, translucent proboscis slithered out, parting Ethan's lips and entering his mouth. The boy's eyes bulged, his hands clawing frantically at the fly’s body, trying to pull it off. The insect didn’t budge. Its mouth remained latched onto Ethan's.

Then a wet, slurping sound filled the bus.

Ethan's muffled screams vibrated through the air as the creature sucked. The students near him screamed, some pressing back against their seats, others frozen in place by sheer terror. The fly's legs, thin and wiry, dug into the boy's face to further anchor itself as it fed. The liquid being drawn from Ethan’s body travelled through its proboscis like sap through a tree. Ethan's skin lost its color, turning from a healthy pink to an ashen gray. His eyes sunk into his skull, the veins under his skin standing out like blue-black wires. His cheeks hollowed, limbs growing thinner. His hands, which had been clawing desperately at the insect, slowed, then fell limp at his sides. When the fly finally withdrew its feeding tube, its abdomen was swollen, distended with the fluids it had siphoned from Ethan. Its wings buzzed in a low, strained hum as it hovered awkwardly, struggling under its new weight.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Ethan’s body slumped to the floor, barely recognizable—a shriveled, lifeless husk.

The sight ignited a fresh wave of panic among the students. Screams erupted as the realization set in that none of them were safe. Some students darted panicked looks toward the windows, but the sight of the creatures outside—the monstrosities still rampaging through the crowd of parents—froze them in place.

Rick watched, trying to process the madness unfolding amidst his own fear and grief. But his eyes snapped to movement. The fly was approaching another student—a girl named Sarah, who sat a few rows back. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as the fly buzzed closer. The students around her tried to press away, but there was nowhere to go.

“No! Get away from me!” Sarah shrieked, swinging her arms wildly. The fly ducked a jab and landed on her face, its legs digging into her skin. She slapped at the insect, her nails catching on its wings, tearing one of them slightly. The fly let out a screech and forced its proboscis into her mouth, shattering her teeth in the process.

Sarah roared, but it was muffled. She stood up, thrashing down the aisle, trying to pull the fly’s legs out, but they wouldn’t budge.

Rick could see it—the sickening pulse of her life being drained, just as it had been with Ethan. Sarah’s skin tightened over her bones, her face twisting into a ghastly mask of fear as her body shriveled before everyone’s eyes. Her fingers clawed at the fly’s bloated body, but it was no use. The fly drank deeply, its abdomen swelling, engorged with Sarah’s fluids.

The girl’s frantic movements slowed, then stopped.

Sarah stood still in the middle of the aisle, her limbs hanging by her side, her eyes wide but strangely calm. The insect on her face seemed less like a parasite than a mask now, a twisted, living thing that had fused with her. As her classmates stared in terrified silence, Sarah moved toward the window to her right.

The students scrambled away from her direction, but Sarah ignored them, stepping onto the bus window frame before glancing back. Her gaze swept over the terrified faces of her classmates, pausing on Rick. She nodded at him, then leapt out of the window.

Before she hit the ground, something swooped down from above. Massive jaws opened wide, and with one brutal snap, Sarah’s head was torn clean off. The fly, still feeding on her face, was crushed along with her, its bloated abdomen splitting open in a spray of fluids. Sarah’s headless body hit the ground with a dull thud. The creature that hastened her demise was already a distant silhouette in the sky.

Silence settled over the bus. Not a scream. Not a sob. Nothing but the cold void left in the wake of unimaginable horror. The silence wormed its way into every student’s core, slowing thought, reaction, and feeling.

“We’ve gotta get outta here!” The panicked shout broke the spell, shattering the silence like glass. Mr. Bray, the bus driver, scrambled to his feet, his voice pulling the students back from the edge of numb shock. But just as their terror began to solidify into action, something swept in through the window.

A dreadful buzzing filled the air, loud and heavy.

At this juncture, some students might have found themselves reflecting upon a well-worn adage they had encountered long before they acquired the ability to read—an aphorism suggesting that familiarity begets affection. It was now abundantly clear that the individual who, in his limited sagacity, deemed it prudent to utter this platitude, was profoundly retarded.

Another fly hovered in the bus aisle. Not the same one that claimed Sarah’s life. This one had a child’s face—smooth, innocent, with wide, large compound eyes that glistened like wet marbles. Its abdomen was even more bloated, distended to the point of near bursting, but there was a horrifying strength in its movement. Unlike the previous fly, this one didn’t struggle to stay airborne. Its wings buzzed with vitality, the sound reverberating through the bus like a swarm of bees in unison.

The fly's oversized body turned slowly, scanning the bus with almost playful curiosity. Its mouth curved into a bashful smile as it locked its gaze on someone at the front of the bus.

Mr. Johnson.

The teacher had been crouching low, shielding himself from the chaos. But when the creature’s gaze fixed on him, he rose to his feet. Mr. Johnson squared his shoulders, inhaling deeply as if drawing in courage with each breath. His eyes narrowed, fixing on the fly as he stepped forward, his feet planted firmly on the bus floor. He slid into a martial arts stance, hands raised and ready, his posture fluid yet tense.