They say if you drop a pebble into the sea the ripples will reach every corner of the world, given enough time. I'd remember this saying every time we fed another dozen hogs to the horde of husks we'd trapped in the old quarry near our farm.
That's what my family's done for centuries, you know. When the first hordes were rounded up we were the first to offer our farm and our livestock to satiate their eternal hunger. Took us all of a month before we realised that there weren't enough hogs in the world to keep them happy but there were enough opiods to slow them down.
So that's how we operated. Drug the hogs and lower them down enough that the drop to the bottom wouldn't fully kill them (the husks don't eat unless their prey is terrified and running, or at least trying to run) and wait for the droning wails of the somewhat-satisfied-mostly-reanimated.
Nobody's seen a husk up close since some dumbass "explorer" decided to take a trip down one of the abandoned mines and found an open tunnel leading straight to them. Luckily for the rest of the county his lifetracker sent out an alert and the investigative authorities sealed off the tunnel before anything could escape.
Three weeks later his phone uploads a video of him sitting in a circle with about fifty husks. There's no sound but their mouths are all moving like they're talking. Nobody's been able to make any words out so we reckon they're just mimicking whatever the dumbass is doing and pretending they're still human.
Sometimes I get out my binoculars and try to spot him among all the husks but I ain't seen him yet.
Doesn't mean he's not down there somewhere - Lord knows those things love hiding in the dark.
That's what my family's done for centuries, you know. When the first hordes were rounded up we were the first to offer our farm and our livestock to satiate their eternal hunger. Took us all of a month before we realised that there weren't enough hogs in the world to keep them happy but there were enough opiods to slow them down.
So that's how we operated. Drug the hogs and lower them down enough that the drop to the bottom wouldn't fully kill them (the husks don't eat unless their prey is terrified and running, or at least trying to run) and wait for the droning wails of the somewhat-satisfied-mostly-reanimated.
Nobody's seen a husk up close since some dumbass "explorer" decided to take a trip down one of the abandoned mines and found an open tunnel leading straight to them. Luckily for the rest of the county his lifetracker sent out an alert and the investigative authorities sealed off the tunnel before anything could escape.
Three weeks later his phone uploads a video of him sitting in a circle with about fifty husks. There's no sound but their mouths are all moving like they're talking. Nobody's been able to make any words out so we reckon they're just mimicking whatever the dumbass is doing and pretending they're still human.
Sometimes I get out my binoculars and try to spot him among all the husks but I ain't seen him yet.
Doesn't mean he's not down there somewhere - Lord knows those things love hiding in the dark.
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