Brigham City
Luke ran from them and the horde limped aggressively painful seemingly longing for human flesh. One of them grotesque Bugmen deformation caught him, grabbing his shirt from behind and impeding his escape. Even though they were weak-looking, they were still aliens with inhuman speed and strength.
The old man wrestled him to the ground, belly facing up, his crooked, yellow teeth gnawing near his face. The acrid smell pronounced closer to his nose. Luckily, his hail-Mary weapon was vials of Neurax worms, minute worms suspended in nutritive media.
He pushed harder to fend off the monster on top of him, the horde had pulled his legs back to the dark, and his blue jeans jacket dragged against the pavement. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He needed to maintain his covert identity from the authorities or to the crowd.
