Page 45 of Shadow

We had started digging up remains and neutralizing them before their transformations were complete. It was gruesome work, but necessary.

A big problem was the variability in burial practices across cultures and regions. Even within the U.S., private burials were common, especially on family land, as long as the necessary permits were obtained. Here on the island, private burials were a frequent practice.

We could identify cemeteries and destroy what we found, but finding every single grave on private property? It was an impossible task.

Many countries had banned U.S. GMO food. Not so for things that were never meant for consumption. The problem was worldwide, and it was ultimately what destroyed everyone.

The two hellhounds we currently had were newly formed. We had come across them about six months ago. They weren’t the first we had captured, though our tests showed these two to be smarter. We were trying to understand their evolution and find an easier way to kill them.

My thoughts were interrupted when Beck’s sword came uncomfortably close to my throat, forcing me to jump back. I realized I needed to focus on the fight or risk losing more than the sparring match.

“About time you woke up,” he growled, blocking my next blow effortlessly.

“The woman knows about the hounds and what made them,” I admitted.

Beck’s response was immediate; his next swing was wild, and it was his head that nearly separated from his shoulders as I countered. He paused, laying the tip of his sword in the dirt. I pulled back from my next strike and did the same.

“You told her?” His tone was accusatory with disbelief and concern etched across his face.

“If fighting beside humans is going to work, we had to trust her,” I replied.

Beck placed a hand on his hip, the gesture unintentionally prissy, and for a brief moment, I almost smiled. “But do you trust her?” he asked pointedly.

“I’m trying,” I replied, but even to my own ears, I wasn’t sure if I could.

Chapter Seventeen

Marinah

The walls of my room felt like they were closing in.

I tried every breathing technique I knew, counting by threes, fours, sevens, forwards, backwards, but nothing worked. Five minutes after entering this claustrophobic space and attempting to calm myself, a hysterical burst of laughter escaped my throat.

I literally survived the zombie apocalypse.

The laughter dissolved into tears.

Our government did this.

The scientists told us that GMOs were safe. It was backed by those in power.

The group of protesters I ran with in college went after the manufactures of GMOs. All of them were guilty of using hidden practices to keep the public ignorant.

We wanted transparency. That was it. You’d think we had demanded they shut down entirely. Labeling food was our objective.Let the people decidewas our motto.

I thought about the honeybee colony collapse, directly linked to the use of neonicotinoids in different multi-billion-dollar manufacturing companies. It’s why we protested. Those at the top were always about greed, corruption, and power.

And yet, our efforts, our marches, our voices, meant nothing.

Because in the end, it wasn’t about the food. Something else, something entirely unrelated to feeding the population, was genetically engineered. And thatsomethingcreated monsters that nearly wiped out humanity.

I didn’t know which company decided to play God with formaldehyde.

But at this point, did it even matter?

Before the first attack, scientists were already modifying the genetic codes of babies. It was only a matter of time before something went catastrophically wrong. There were too many people to blame, and I no longer had the energy to untangle the mess of it all.

The bottom line was horrifying. We had been fighting our own dead. And in a way, they weren’t even dead, which was somehow worse. They didn’t just attack mindlessly; they fought strategically, working together to destroy us.

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