They all stood frozen as the wet, quiet sound of falling droplets drifted to their ears, the smell of copper slowly filling their noses, as their eyes were locked on the sight before them.
The woman remained standing. Her body registered what had happened, growing limp almost immediately, yet she was held upright by the very things killing her. Over a dozen grass blades, rigid as iron needles, had pierced through her legs up to her torso. As if that wasn't enough, a new blade of grass stretched out every second, impaling her body like the rest. The fabric of her office clothes darkened where each one entered, spreading in uneven circles that met and merged.
Her mouth was open. Yet, no sound came out of it.
Her eyes, however, were what Alden couldn't look away from. They hadn't gone blank yet; rather, they moved, tracking across the faces around her with something he found hard to put into words. This wasn't his first time seeing this look on someone's face, but it was something he never understood.
Her body rapidly grew thinner, almost like it was shrinking. The expression in her eyes faded away, replaced by a quietly arriving understanding before falling lifeless.
The grass blades pulled away, letting her body drop to the ground.
"What was that? What just happened?" The husky-voiced man shouted, turning to Donald as they all slowly backed away. "Did you do this?!"
"N-No... I didn't. It wasn't me. I–I didn't do this." With trembling eyes and shaking hands, Donald tried to convince the group of his innocence. "It must be somebody else. Somebody must've awakened as well."
His voice had lost its earlier bravado.
They began casting glances at one another — or at least most of them. Alden was different; his eyes were focused on the field itself.
The blades nearest to where she'd fallen were moving fiercely. Further out, the field swayed with more energy than before, despite no wind having picked up.
This fierce, unnatural movement was spreading outward in every direction, rippling away from them like something disturbed beneath a surface.
Alden thought back to the night before. The grass had always moved strangely, in patterns that didn't match the wind. He'd filed it away as a thing of the Beyond.
Was it something more? He already had the answer to this.
"EVERYONE!" Julius's loud, panicked voice cut across the group. "RUN! THE GRASS IS ALIVE! RUN NOW!"
The reaction of the group differed.
Some of them immediately took off from pure adrenaline and instinct. The rest took a moment. Just a moment of hesitation. Their feet caught between instinct and disbelief. This was all it took.
The blades shot from directly beneath them and all sides. With no resistance, they pierced through, then out of their bodies like needle through fabric.
Some sounds Alden had never heard before assaulted his ears. He didn't have to see what was happening. He refused to.
Even before Julius had completed his statement, Alden ran, sprinting fully ahead with all his might.
As he sliced through the field, the rough, dormant grass tore at his bare feet with every stride. He didn't feel this. He couldn't afford to, at least not now.
The treeline finally came into sight. This motivated him even further. The goal was clearly in front of him.
Behind the group, the field was changing.
Alden could hear it—a low, building rustle spreading outward in every direction from the center point where they formerly stood. The grass was waking in waves, rolling out and swallowing wherever they passed, by mere seconds.
'Don't look back. Keep running.'
He looked back.
A churning mass of upright blades, dense and vicious, chased behind in a steady, relentless surge. Where the awakened grass met the dormant grass, it spread this revival with the new section stiffening and rising before joining the wave.
While this was the most horrifying sight he'd seen, he felt a wave of relief. The speed of the spread wasn't as fast as them—or him, at least. At this rate, he wouldn't get caught.
But contrary to his thoughts, Alden faced forward and ran even harder.
Ahead of him somehow, Donald—the fat man in the bathrobe—was moving at a pace that had no business coming from that body. His robes flapped fiercely, leaving a loud wheezing sound. Alden nearly overtook him twice but failed to.
To his left and slightly behind, Elina's companion was running with her on his back, arms hooked under her knees and her hands gripping his shoulder. His breathing was already ragged, yet he pushed forward.
Elina wasn't having it easy as the situation might suggest. The position of her face forced her to watch the gruesome scene of whatever happened to whoever wasn't quick enough to escape the embrace of the field.
She could close her eyes, but she found herself unable to.
'Shit! How did we end up in this situation? What went wrong?' Alden found himself thinking as the race for safety continued. 'Has this been alive all this time? Why attack now?'
His mind wasn't stable enough to come up with an explanation. However, the treeline was close now—close enough to make out individual trees, their structures, the dark gap between them. A few hundred meters? Maybe more.
He could make it. Just a bit more.
Then Alden's legs told him the truth.
The burn hit his thighs all at once, the accumulated debt of his body hitting all at once. He could feel very little energy in his body. His strides shortened. His arms and breathing felt a lot heavier.
Donald and the duo close by weren't an exception.
Behind them, the rustle grew louder.
Alden risked another glance.
His body shook from pure dread. The gap between them and the wave had shrunk to almost nothing; only a few meters remained.
Alden tried increasing his speed but failed miserably; he could barely keep his current pace.
"Please! Please! Move, goddammit!"
Five hundred meters.
The fat man stumbled, caught himself, and kept going on pure terror.
Four hundred meters.
Elina's companion was breathing in sharp, ugly gasps. Each step he took cost more than the last.
Three hundred meters.
Alden could feel a change in the air. The rustle whispered in his ears.
Two hundred meters.
'Almost ther—'
PIERCE!