The Mercedes van was no longer a vehicle; it was a steel capsule hurtling through the digestive tract of a green beast.
The "road" was barely more than a dirt track cut through the dense, humid overgrowth of the Thai jungle. On either side, the vegetation was a wall of dark greens and blacks—banana leaves, thick vines, and ancient teak trees that blotted out the moon.
Thomas drove with his high beams on, piercing the darkness. The only sound was the diesel engine straining against the mud and the rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack of branches hitting the side mirrors.
"It's too quiet," Jax said from the passenger seat. He was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife, a habit that annoyed Thomas to no end. "The jungle should be screaming. Insects. Frogs. Monkeys. But it's dead silent."
"They're afraid of the infected," Maggie said softly from the back. She was clutching Lucas's hand so tight her knuckles were white.
Lucas didn't answer. He was staring out the side window. He saw it—a flash of movement. Not a bird, not a monkey. It was parallel to the van.
He tapped Thomas on the shoulder. "Dad. Left. Three o'clock."
Thomas looked. "Nothing there, Lucas. Stop jumping at shadows."
"I saw it," Lucas insisted. "It was keeping pace."
Thomas opened his mouth to argue, but Kofi shouted from the back seat. "Twelve o'clock! Obstacle!"
Thomas slammed on the brakes.
The van skidded in the mud, coming to a halt ten feet from a fallen tree trunk that blocked the path. It wasn't a natural fall; the cut was fresh, the wood pale yellow against the dark bark.
"They dropped it," Jengo said, gripping his rifle. "It's a roadblock."
Thomas killed the headlights. The jungle plunged into darkness, lit only by the faint green glow of the dashboard.
"Stay here," Thomas commanded. "Jax, Kofi, on me. We clear it."
The three men stepped out into the humid air. The silence was heavy. oppressive.
Lucas watched from the back window. He saw the three men spread out, their weapons raised. He saw Thomas reach the log.
And then he saw them.
They weren't in the trees. They were under the fronds.
Three figures emerged from the brush behind the men. They didn't scream. They didn't run. They moved in a crouch, their movements fluid and synchronized. They wore the tattered remains of resort staff uniforms.
"Dad! Behind you!" Lucas screamed, slamming his fist against the glass.
Thomas spun around.