Ten minutes passed as Aaron, Bloodletter, and the rest of the Deadmen prepared to feast. They prowled the darker parts of the forest, stealthily making their way to a campfire hidden among the trees. All Aaron could find as a weapon was a rusty hunting knife.

"Why do I have to tag along?" Aaron asked Harry. "I'm not ready to eat human flesh yet."

"I thought you said he invited you to watch the carnage about to unfold," Harry replied.

"I did," Bloodletter said hoarsely, his voice echoing through his helmet. "I need to see if you can handle the violence you're about to witness, especially because you're gonna need to eat what's left of it. And when this whole thing is over, I expect some answers to my questions."

"Pretty sure I can handle it," Aaron replied. "I saw what you did to London. Had a front row seat."

"Y'know, I wasn't the only one responsible."

"You had that undead binge-eating bitch by your side. I saw her rip out a man's clavicle with just her teeth."

"Did it taste good?" Harry asked.

Aaron glanced toward Harry with an angry expression. "I don't fucking know! I was still sane that day!"

"Plus, he wasn't the one doing the eating," Kyle chimed in.

"Thank you, Kyle," Aaron replied bitterly.

"You idiots clearly don't know how the elements of stealth work," Bloodletter said, pushing away a branch. "Not that I even need it. In fact, you people are the ones who need to remain silent. If these poor bastards have guns, it's lights-out for the rest of you."

Bloodletter held his arm out to keep the rest of the Deadmen from moving forward. Forty feet away behind a wall of trees, nine men were gathered around a bonfire, chuckling at each other's jokes. On the other end of the campsite were three pale bodies hanging from trees, ropes tied around their necks. Unlike the men who were still alive, they were bruised, bloodied, and shirtless. They must've been traitors or hostages.

"Cutthroats," Aaron muttered. "The only human beings equally as savage as Deadmen."

"We can hear you," Jade said, clearly hurt by the comment.

"No, he's right," Bloodletter said. "We're animals. More specifically, you Commoners are animals."

He grabbed Aaron by the arm and pulled him closer. His ear was pressed against Bloodletter's helmet.

"And apparently, these poor devils think I'm responsible for dividing their rations, like they're my pets," he whispered. "But as for me, I kill because I'm bored."

"A conscious person would do something like read a book or play a game if he was bored," Aaron replied. "He wouldn't go around killing innocent people."

"Oh, I'm definitely conscious, boy. And that's why I've been carrying around those horrible memories and anger for the last eight years of my undead existence."

* * *

The nine Cutthroats surrounded the bonfire, each one holding a sandwich. All of them took turns telling sick jokes and laughing at them nonchalantly, ignoring the ambiguously innocent people they'd hanged hours ago. Typical Cutthroat behavior. Aaron wasn't lying when he said they were equally as sinister as Deadmen, maybe even worse since they actually knew what they were doing. In fact, Cutthroats were the only humans the DZI were permitted to kill when exploring the Dead Zone.

Each one had the word Lovecraft emblazoned on them, either as a tattoo or as an insignia on their jackets. Lovecraft was a nearby Babel Tower rumored to be one of the biggest and most advanced towers in the entire Dead Zone. However, it was notorious for its crime and infamous Cutthroat gangs doing inhumane things outside its walls.

"Still can't believe these wankers were out here without weapons," one of the Cutthroats said, sharpening his knife. "That's like heading to a pub without a wallet."

"The bloody hell kind of expression is that?" another Cutthroat asked.

"I dunno. I've been sober for a couple of hours. And I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea of being drunk in a forest full of Deadmen."

"Why are you complaining?" a third Cutthroat asked. "You were baked out of your mind that one time. I didn't even think people still grew weed nowadays."

"Shut it!" the first one replied. "We weren't that far from Lovecraft, so everything was fine."

"Didn't Dixon get eaten alive that night?"

"I said shut it!"

Everyone but the first Cutthroat let out a chuckle. He took his anger out on a small bush and sliced off a few twigs with his knife. He took a small swig from a canteen and stood up.

"All of you, shut the hell up," he growled. "Or at least stop talking about the shit that went down that night."

"C'mon, Andrew," another Cutthroat replied. "Dixon was a lost cause. Besides, being eaten alive by a Deadman is too common a death to be considered horrific."

"Back when there were still enough people, car accidents happened all the time. Some would leave a small scratch on the car while others would obliterate the vehicle and everyone inside. Do you still think that's not disturbing, boy?"

The second Cutthroat shrugged. "So-so. I've seen more Deadman attacks than car crashes, so..."

"Fuck off," Andrew replied. He placed his canteen back on the ground. "Now...if you excuse me, I'll be over here taking a piss."

Andrew pulled out a flashlight and marched deeper into the forest until he was hidden in the combined darkness of the night and the trees. He placed the flashlight on a small rock next to him as he did his business. The flashlight toppled off the rock and crashed into the dirt. The front of the flashlight bumped against another rock, leaving a small crack in the lens. The light then flickered several times before turning off, leaving Andrew alone in the darkness.

"Goddamn it," he muttered. He stumbled around the pile of rocks and pebbles to find his flashlight. His fingertips brushed the edge of the tool and he picked it up.

He aimed the flashlight into the forest and shook the device to fix the light. Flickering resumed, repeatedly flashing light through the darkness of the night. Each flicker gave him a quick view of the nature surrounding him, but the light picked up a few images that seemed out of the ordinary.

With each flicker, something slowly approached Andrew out of the woods. The first flicker revealed a pale creature with colorless eyes before returning to black. The next flash, it was about fifteen feet away from him, but its bloodstained clothing and nauseating stench were noticeable. The light flashed off again. The next flicker, the creature was only a few feet away from him.

Andrew stepped back. He aimed the flashlight at another part of the forest. The flickering continued, each flash revealing more undead visitors. It was as if they moved with the light. The light would freeze them, but the darkness allowed them to move closer.

"What the..." he whispered fearfully.

As the light continued flickering, the amount of Deadmen surrounding him only seemed to increase. Each flash of light meant the appearance of another Deadman. They all had the same dead-eyed, vicious look on their face. They found their prey.

Andrew slowly backed away. He wasn't aware of the cold arms wrapping around his face and neck.

A quick jolt to the right shattered his neck. His head hung motionlessly to the side and blood seeped out of his mouth. Bloodletter then yanked upwards with all of his strength. Andrew's head was ripped from the rest of his body, leaving a bloody, mangled hole where it used to be.

Andrew's headless corpse collapsed to the floor. The Deadmen snapped out of their frozen state and rushed toward the body, devouring it in a bloody mess.

"Who wants the rest?" Bloodletter asked, holding up Andrew's head.

The Deadmen growled at the decapitated head aggressively, like a pack of hungry wolves. Bloodletter tossed the head into the horde and watched as they ripped it apart with their hands and teeth.

Aaron winced and looked away. He rarely saw actual Deadman killings since he only dealt with Commoners, which were relatively easy to kill unless they attacked in swarms. But he'd only dealt with Abnormals twice while working in the DZI. He wasn't used to attacks as violent as the ones he's been recently witnessing.

"Ready for seconds?" Bloodletter asked.

Aaron looked around for the friendlier trio of Deadmen he met earlier. "Where's Jade?"

"In position."

Aaron looked back toward the Cutthroats' campsite. One of the Cutthroats Andrew last spoke to seemed to be aware of his absence. He was about to question what happened to that poor bastard, but all of them were caught off guard when one of the hanging corpses crashed to the ground.

"What the bloody hell?" one of the Cutthroats said. "Lemme fix that." He stepped up and walked toward the corpse, a rope clenched in his hands like a lasso.

Aaron moved a little closer to the man, taking cover behind a bush. The Cutthroat stood above the corpse. It laid in a crumpled position with its arms splayed across the ground. Aaron couldn't help but notice the bite mark on its neck surrounded by purple veins.

"Hey, guys," the same Cutthroat said. "Was this wanker bitten when we killed him?"

The corpse jerked up and dug its teeth into the Cutthroat's neck, blood spraying out of the new wound as it tore through his skin. The Cutthroat let out a loud pain-filled shriek for a few seconds, but the scream transitioned into a gurgle as blood began pouring out of his mouth. The newly-turned Deadman tackled its victim to the ground and continued tearing him apart.

"DEADMAN!" the other Cutthroats screamed. They jumped off the ground and pulled out their guns, quickly riddling the creature with bullets until it fell off their fallen comrade's mauled body. Three bullets to its head took it out for good.

"I fucking hate these things," one of the Cutthroats muttered, aiming his gun at the forest behind the fallen Deadman.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping filled the air, each noise accompanying a footstep. The silhouette of a Deadman, one that looked stronger and deadlier than any other, approached them. Its boots and hole-covered clothes were in clear view and the orange glow of the bonfire shed some light on a red X covering its helmet.

"What is that?" one of the Cutthroats asked.

"Who cares?!" another replied. "Light 'em up!"

The Cutthroats opened fire on Bloodletter. Bullets tore apart his clothing and his withering flesh, splashing blood all over the place like paint. He stood still and endured the bullets. Pain was nonexistent to him.

Some of the Cutthroats aimed at his head, but his helmet merely deflected the bullets like nothing. A few of them wedged into the helmet, but none of them came close to penetrating his skull. Bad news for them.

Several seconds later, they stopped firing, most having used up their whole ammo stash. They lowered the weapons and stared in a mix of curiosity and terror at this Deadman's apparent immortality.

"My turn," Bloodletter said. Those simple words sparked fear in everyone around him.

Streams of blood poured out of his wounds and floated in the air, circling around him like big red rings. The rings glowed bright with power, almost as if they were on fire.

"RUN!" one of the Cutthroats exclaimed. All of them burst out running, hoping to take shelter in the darkness of the forest.

With a powerful swipe of his arms, the rings surrounding Bloodletter exploded outward. The fragments of rings—now resembling razor wires—sliced through the Cutthroats with ease. Their limbs detached from their bodies, followed by their heads and the rest of their flesh.

The Cutthroats collapsed to the floor in piles of dismembered body parts. A sea of blood formed underneath them, entrails splattered across the dirt. Not a single body still had a head; some of the heads were split in half from the attack.

Bloodletter took some time to admire his gory masterpiece, ignoring the blood spilling down his clothes. His healing factor took care of his wounds and they disappeared in a blink, leaving nothing behind but more bullet holes in his clothes.

Aaron watched as the Deadmen rushed in and fought over the dismembered limbs. Even Harry and Jade were fighting over an arm, with both of them grabbing hold of opposite ends of the limb with their teeth. He couldn't handle anymore of the carnage in front of him.

He ran, disappearing into the night.

"Hope you enjoyed the show," Bloodletter said, not noticing Aaron's absence. "Most of the time I kill them one by one. But enough about that. You owe me some answers. Where's Troy Schaefer?"

He waited for an answer but only received silence. "O'Connor?" he asked.

He took off his helmet and glanced around the area. All he found were trees, the bonfire, and the Deadmen gorging themselves on the Cutthroats' remains. No sign of Aaron.

With that realization, he screamed angrily, the name O'Connor echoing through the forest.

Aaron made a new enemy.