He didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of three giants huddled around the burning remains of the school bus they'd run off the road. He was lucky enough to have been thrown through a window and luckier still to have landed somewhat softly among overgrown bushes on the side of the road.
The air smelled like his dad's drunken attempts at barbecuing and if he closed his eyes he was almost home, waiting for his plateful of burnt sausages and a slightly moldy bun. The faint sound of screaming kept him grounded, reminded him that his classmates were dying a few feet away from him.
The giants were watching it all unfold now that the chase was over and their prey weren't going anywhere any time soon. They must have been fourteen or so feet tall, bodies heavily obscured by the same ragged cloth that drivers covered their lorries with.
They kept their mouths and arms free though, and as he lay there slowly losing consciousness he saw them licking their lips like his old dog used to when it smelled the butcher walking by.
The roof of the bus peeled away like a tin of tuna and the giants dug in.
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