Page 18 of Famine

Get home—now.

Whoever attacked this person, they could still be out here, and this poor soul who’s been left for dead, there’s no sense helping them now. They’re clearly dead.

As I walk past the body, I can’t help it—I slow, my curiosity getting the better of me. That’s when I notice something odd. The skin that rings what must be the person’s neck and chest … itglows.

Is it a necklace? What piece of jewelryglows? I stare at the bare torso, noting absently that it’s a man.

Stop staring and go home.Whoever he is, he’s dead, I’m soaked to the bone, and if I arrive home late again, Aunt Maria will have my hide.

Not to mention that a killer might be hiding in the forest that presses up against the road. He might be watching me at this very moment.

With that spooked thought, I push myself to my feet and reach for my basket, the rain still pelting down on me. Just as I start to walk away, I hear a ragged, broken sound at my back.

I spin around, and now the jabuticabas do spill out of my basket.

My gaze scans the trees around the road, certain the killer is going to spring out at any moment.

That’s when I hear the sound again, only this time, it clearly comes from the bloody carcass in front of me.

Holyshit.

Could the man still be …alive?

The thought is beyond terrifying. He’s been shredded to pieces.

I swallow, taking a step towards the body, dread pooling in my stomach.

Just check to make sure he’s dead …

Still, I hesitate before I touch him. He’s missing an entire arm; it’s justgone. His other arm ends at his elbow, the frayed edges of it a pulpy mess.

My gaze moves down to his chest, which is crisscrossed with lash marks all the way down to his groin. His legs haven’t been amputated, but like his torso, they seem to be flayed open in several spots. Rivulets of watery blood snake away from the naked man, mixing with the rainwater.

The sight of so much pain makes me want to weep.

What happened to you?

The man is so still.Toostill. Whatever sound I heard earlier, I must’ve been mistaken.

There’s no way a human could survive these wounds.

My skin is still prickling, instincts telling me to run before whoever did this attacks me too.

Before I get up, I place a hand on the man’s chest, right over his heart—just to be sure he’s well and truly gone.

Beneath my palm, he’s utterly still. There’s no intake of breath, no thump of his heart.

Dead.

I start to withdraw my hand when my attention snags on the soft green light glowing only centimeters away from my fingertips. I squint as I take it in—

What in the hell?

My hand moves of its own accord, my fingers trailing over the glowing markings. This is no piece of jewelry. The markings are apartof the man’s skin.

My eyes flick to the stranger’s face, which is hidden by his matted hair. My pulse begins to quicken.

Could this actually be … ?

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