We smelled it before we fully saw it.
From a distance, the bonfire at the military base sent thick smoke into the sky. The scent carried across the wind and hit us hard—burning flesh, heavy and unmistakable. But beneath it, there was something else. Something sweeter. Wrong in a way I couldn't explain.
The base was lit in deep orange. Flames swallowed what used to be military equipment, casting long shadows that moved like they were alive.
I signaled for the convoy to stop. Engines cut out one by one.
A man paced along the perimeter with a bloody rifle in his hand. His steps were uneven but purposeful. He wasn't wandering. He was guarding.
When he turned slightly, the firelight hit his face.
His eyes burned with molten orange. Not fully red. Something else simmered there, glowing from inside.
He stopped pacing.
His free hand slipped into his pocket.
My body tensed.
