Dusk Territories: Always Burning by Deston Munden

carapace to grow across his body. His fingers and toes turned to three pronged claws right before Graham and Ragnar’s eyes. His limbs snapped back, face contorted, and tongue grew long unable to stay in the mouth. What was left of his skin turned green and became scaled. Amber silted eyes stirred in his skulls searching for a target. A monster, some hybrid of a lizard and an insect, stood in Wood’s place, hulking. It’s a command. A fucking command…
    Drifter, pleased, stepped aside.
    Graham couldn’t even comprehend what happened next. One moment, Wood (if he could even call the creature that) was a good length away from Ragnar. The next instant Ragnar was sprawling towards the edge of the RV, skin torn asunder by the black chitins of Wood’s sudden savagery. The creature, fangs long and sharp, snapped at its prey. Ragnar couldn’t even grasp his axe long enough to mount an offense. Instead, he was focusing on survival as Drifter’s unleashed beast tore at him.
    Ragnar backpedaled away, trying to dodge the attacks. He wasn’t swift enough. Wood’s wild claws attacked his already bruised skin. A few times, Wood had even leaped up with his bent legs to scratch at Ragnar’s face. One particular time caught him right between the eyes. Howling of pain told everyone that the claws were hot tongs to the face. The skin on Ragnar’s face bubbled after being caught, blood spraying madly across his eyes.
    It wasn’t long after that he fell completely off the edge of the roof, face first, and covered in blood. Ragnar scrambled to his feet, despite the pain, and darted in the direction of the Plagues. Even then, he wasn’t safe. Wood, even from a distance, was dangerous. He belched green liquid from his mouth, shooting towards the escaping Ragnar. A few spray slammed into pieces of car part armor, dissolving it, forcing Ragnar to both run and tear the scraps off before it reached his skin.
    The giant soon escaped into the distance with his life barely in his hand.
    Graham looked at Wood from the ground level. The monster curled up beside Drifter, drooling acid from his mouth onto the hood of the roof. His long tongue swept back and forth on the metal, those spine-chilling eyes searching back and forth for something else to kill. Never once did he look at Drifter with such consideration. Instead, when he did look at him, the stare was much like a young boy waiting for permission from his father. Drifter smiled at him. “It’s okay now, Wood. Your parents have gone to work.”
    Wood hunched over. His mutation receded slowly, parts of him becoming human. Drifter gave him a one arm hug, allowing him to get to his feet. “That’s my boy,” Drifter said, patting him on the back.
    No one else said anything, but Graham could feel it. Blood was frozen in veins all around him. Even himself, tempered to adverse conditions, was almost petrified. Drifter picked up on it, grinning. “Welcome back, Corporal Graham!” He stretched his arms out as though he was giving a large hug to the crowd. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! And fantastic job everyone for driving them off!”
    The sound of the Drifter’s mad laugh whistled through the air. Swiftly followed it were the cheers from the entire Caravan.
    The world is mad. Hell. I’m going mad, Graham thought.
    _
    Ragnar touched the bridge of his nose, blood still oozing from his burnt open wound. The red liquid pattered on the ground like rain. He liked the rain, it was nice. When was the last time it rained in this god forsaken part of the world? Maybe he could bring the rain. Maybe with blood, he liked blood as much as he liked rain. The very thought sent tingles down his spine. He needed something to deal with this anger that tore through him.
    He stumbled back into the backside of the Plague, limping through the corridor. Yes. He was very angry that he lost to the Drifter. He had expected the caravan to be short of Crisium and maybe Tyrus. They were two of the best trackers that he