By the time they laid the swords down on their front porch along with the three boxes, they were already sheathed inside full-grain leather scabbards with leather straps attached as a belt and wrapped in buckled steel.

Parked in front of the Boones’ house was Blake’s Jeep Wrangler already half-full of supplies while Brett and Paul’s two kids began loading more boxes into the back. Beams of light illuminated the end of the street as Roylan’s truck veered around the corner, and parked behind the Jeep.

Easton grabbed one of the boxes on the porch and walked over toward the truck. Marcus was the first one to hop out from the passenger’s seat, but as Easton drew closer, his eyes widened when he found him bloodied.

Before Easton could say a word, Marcus shook his head. “Not my blood.”

“Whose?” Asked Easton. He glanced behind Marcus and found both Roylan and Paul alive, but covered in blood as well.

“Looters. Half of the store was already ransacked, and what little we could get, we brought with us, but the others also wanted the truck. So, Roylan and I had to fight a mob, like twenty of them, since Paul got dragged off.”

Easton spared another glance at Paul and found Roylan busily patching at the gash on his forehead. That’s gonna need stitches from the looks of it, Easton thought.

“It’s a damn miracle that you guys got out,” Easton said.

“If you could call a swarm of those monkeys rolling onto the streets a miracle, then, be my guest. Started tearing through everyone.”

“Those things attacked you?”

“They tried. But we were on our way out when those things descended. I saw more of those tall trees growing at a distance. They’re multiplying.”

Easton whirled around and looked back at the corner they came from, wondering how close it was. “How long?”

Marcus bit his lower lip and sighed. “We need to get out here in five. Is everything already packed?”

“Almost, I think. Most of the Jeep’s stacked, so we have to use the truck—”

“It still has space.”

“Good. I might have to grab a tarp from the garage that we can put on top of the boxes, shade them from the rain or snow.”

“Smart. I’ll help with the rest of the packing.”

Easton ran toward the garage and found a couple of tarps folded on the workbench. Thinking that they may also need tools for their journey, Easton grabbed the toolbox and placed them inside the truck, putting the two folded tarps aside for now as they continued loading.

The Ford Ranger Lariat was packed to the brim with supplies, but its cargo bed had enough wiggle room for at least three people to sit on. It would be a tight fit, but at least it would bring everyone out of the city. Whirling around to face the Boones’ house, there were only a few boxes left out on the porch as Andy finished strapping the belt around Marcus’s waist. Marcus tugged at the robe and cloak he wore, which Andy gave him, the ornate silver button snug around his neck. Everyone already sported similar attire.

“Is it too tight?” his father asked Marcus.

“It’s snug enough.”

“That’s good. That’s how it’s supposed to do,” his father said, stepping back a little to watch him. “So, how does it feel?”

“Freaking weird,” Marcus said, tugging on the belt wrapped around his waist attached with a sheath for the dagger his father gave him and a couple of dangling small pouches. Easton hid a smile seeing a large sword strapped out of Marcus’s back.

“Is this thing really necessary?” Marcus asked his father.

“A deterrent. We don’t know how many looters we will encounter on the way out, and you, dear boy, already ran into the lot of them. We have supplies out in the open, and you will act as our safeguard.”

Marcus raised the shotgun he carried. “This is enough as a deterrent.” He then slung the shotgun around his shoulders, resting side-by-side with his sword.

“And so will the sword. It is very unusual to see someone carry a broadsword behind their back. It makes them think twice not to mess with you.”

“This is San Francisco, Andy. Weird shit has happened before.”

“Bah, it’s only for show. What does the army call it? Ah! An Intimidation Tactic.”

“In a way, it does make sense,” Easton jumped in, “heck, I don’t want to mess with you. You look badass.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Easton,” said Marcus sarcastically.

“No, man. I’m serious. You look like Ash from the Evil Dead.”

“I haven’t seen that one.”

“Anyway,” his father interrupted, “since you, Easton, and Paul will be sitting at the back of the truck, I think it’ll look threatening if you guys hold those guns and the swords.”

“Wait, I’m also carrying what?”

“You are also carrying a sword, Easton,” his father said. He grabbed the pile of sheathed swords on the truck bed and handed one to him. “Ah. This is right up your alley. Not too long, not too short for you.”

Easton tried to hide the blood rushing up to his cheeks. Even in this situation, he still has time to make fun of my height, Easton thought. Though, he felt like he wasn’t fair because his father might’ve done it unintentionally. The sting still hurt.

His father helped him with the belt around his waist, just like what he did with Marcus. “I only have one back scabbard, and I already gave it to Marcus for his broadsword. So, you’ll have to carry this on the hip.”

He then attached a dagger next to the sword’s sheath for extra protection. Easton had no intention of facing the monsters in the city face-to-face, but it did felt nice to remind him that they were there. For emergencies, as his father once said.

“That sword is a one-handed sword, so it’s light enough to carry for you, only two-and-a-half pounds.”

And insulted my strength, too, Easton thought, forcing a smile. “That’s …good. I think.”

“Oh. And here’s your gun,” his father handed him Roylan’s rifle.

It felt like Easton was a fish out of the water, holding the rifle by the barrel and a sword attached to his hip as he awkwardly stood there on the sidewalk. The others began climbing into the truck and the Jeep. Easton walked toward the back of the truck bed, and Paul, now decked with a similar sword on his hip and one of his father’s rifles slung around his shoulder, helped him up.

“Thank you. It’s gonna be a cold drive,” Easton said, imagining the ride already with the winter air biting across his cheeks. He shuddered.

“The truck’s exterior thermal reading says it’s thirty degrees out, and still dropping.”

“Let’s hope the sun will rise soon.”

“Yeah. If there is one.”

Easton held his tongue, trying not to entertain the thought creeping into his mind. He found a spot closer to the back windows where he could see Connor, Jacob, Eli, and his father sitting at the rear passenger seats. The truck had its own backseat that could fit three grown adults, but with the kids’ statures, it could easily squeeze in five of them, and two more at the front passenger seat.

Easton did a mental headcount of how many people they had, totaling to seventeen. If the Fosters, the Kapoors, Kenny, and Brett rode with the Wrangler, that would leave ten to ride on the truck. Since most of them would be children, they would sit inside the car with Andy and Roylan while he, Marcus, and Paul would take the truck bed.

Easton watched Marcus loaded the last bag into the cargo bed and placed the tarp over their supplies, and Roylan helped him tied them down securely.

“Alright people, listen up!” Marcus bellowed. “You all know where you’re riding with, and Blake’s Jeep will take point. We’ll head out west of the city. We believe those things are currently busy at the eastern side—”

“—Where a few of the safe zones that the military set up are,” Roylan interjected, sticking his head out from the driver’s seat.

“Right. What Roylan says. So, we’ll head out west. Lucky for us, we’re a lot closer to the edge, so we expect to hit the meadow in fifteen minutes or so. Blake!” He called out to the other man. “You think you can lead us in the right direction?” Marcus asked.

A crooked smile crept on Blake’s lips. “Hell yeah. It’s not my first rodeo driving off-road before. I’ve driven through narrower paths that could fit three men, shoulder-to-shoulder. I got this.”

“Alright. You know the plan. Keep your CB radio on.”

“Will do.” Blake made a casual salute and revved up the engines of his Jeep.

Marcus hopped onto the narrow space at the cargo bed next to Easton. Slamming his fist on the truck’s roof, he roared, “Let’s go!”

Roylan turned on the engines, and the truck lurched forward into the night.

“Nervous?” Marcus asked him.

“That. And the cold.”

“Right. I don’t know what we’re gonna find in there, in those woods.”

“As long as we’re far away from the city, I am not complaining. The trees will serve extra protection.”

“From the dragon.”

Easton scoffed. “God, I still can’t get over saying that.”

Marcus let out a soft chuckle. “Let’s call it what it is.”

“If that’s even what it is. And that thing riding on his back…what if it sees us?”

“We’ll blow its head off.”

“If only it were that easy. I am still not trying to imagine what kind of freaks we’re going to find in those woods.”

Marcus shrugged. “We’ll manage. Hell, we survived this long.”

But for how long? Easton thought, but held his tongue instead.

He let the silence enveloped him, tried not to mind the shaking as the truck drove through rough terrain, on broken streets and crumbling alleys, through narrow buildings fallen in shambles. He watched as more survivors ran through the sidewalk, some frantically looting while others desperately tried to follow their vehicle, calling after them to stop as they dragged along with their luggage. But one look at Marcus, towering and intimidating at the cargo bed, gave them enough pause to look elsewhere.

Easton frowned. Some of those survivors had kids with them, and if they had enough space on the truck, he’d gladly pull them up to safety. He caught Marcus looking at him, saw the same resigned expression crossing his face as they helplessly watched others tried to survive what had become of the city, the rumbling roars of those beasts echoed at their trail.

They turned to Fulton Street and passed the Golden Gate Park, which was twenty percent larger than New York’s Central Park, where a dozen more of those towering trees grew behind the billows of smoke and fire raging from the buildings. Easton tried to drown out the screams and the gunfire emanating from the park, knowing that those mutant monkeys feasted on them with glee, could hear their monstrous shrieks on top of the commotion.

They saw a few survivors scrambling out of the shadows, bloodied and savaged, running (and limping) back into the city streets, never dared to look back at what was chasing after them. Beside Easton, Marcus stirred and unslung his shotgun just in case any of those things managed to get onto the truck.

Luckily, they didn’t encounter any. Still, Easton kept his ears onto the wind, listening to every rustle in the shadows, gripping tightly onto the rifle beside him, knowing that he would have to use it soon. He had never shot a gun before, and a part of him feared that he would stumble and fail like those idiots in the zombie movies who also had never shot a gun before, and they died pretty quickly and brutally.

“Hey, Easton,” Marcus called out, pulling him out of his thoughts. “We’re here.”

Easton got up from where he sat and turned around.

The Great Highway was devoid of any vehicles, blocked off from traffic during the hurricane evacuation, fearing the storm surges coming from the Pacific Ocean next to it, an ocean that didn’t exist anymore, replaced by an expansive meadow draped in snow. Easton looked to their right, the mountains looming over the northern, eastern, and western side of the city, but the south seemed to extend for several miles, illuminated by the fires and city lights slowly blinking out as the generators ran out of gas.

Christ, how massive is this land? Easton thought.

The wall of fire had long died out, replaced by a streak of icicles and frost cutting across the meadow, no doubt the work of the dragon who snuffed it out. Though Easton was shocked to find other survivors staggered around the field, their flashlights were like fireflies in the expanse of darkness, heading toward the woods. Easton could make out a few off-road vehicles crashing into the foliage, trailed by a dozen or so groups of survivors.

“It looks like we’re not alone in our plan,” Paul said.

The Jeep Wrangler crossed the highway and drove through Ocean Beach, its sands carpeted by a sprinkle of white powder as light snow continued to fall from the sky. The truck followed after the Jeep, drawing closer to the edge of the city.

Easton held his breath as they passed through the border, felt the hairs on the nape of his neck prickled as if a dull jolt of electricity climbed up his spine. He let out a deep breath, caught a whiff of fresh pines and of crisp damped earth, which was stronger than when he was inside the city, and clamored to hold onto the handle on the truck’s roof as a wave of nausea rolled over his head. Though, it vanished in a split second.

Marcus pulled out his CB radio and clicked on it.

“Radio Check. Anyone hear me?” said Marcus.

“Copy that,” Blake said.

“Affirmative,” said Roylan.

“Good. Blake, head south, away from the mountains. Over,” Marcus said.

“Uh, how about the woods? Over,” asked Blake.

“Unless we want to beat up our vehicles, we won’t make it far out. I can see headlights inside the foliage. I think people are getting stuck in there. Let’s find a wider path, hug the tree line for now. Over.”

“Copy. Will do,” said Blake.

The Jeep Wrangler veered left, heading toward south instead of into the woods, and Roylan followed after it.

“Are you sure about this?” Paul asked behind them.

Marcus nodded. “I don’t want to risk it driving through that thick. We’re still too close to the mountains, and the terrain will be a lot rougher if we enter this part of the woods. If we head south, we might find an easier path.”

“Well, let’s hope it flattens out,” said Paul.

As they drove further south, Easton realized that the northern San Francisco Peninsula had been uprooted as he could make out the hills, the sandy beaches, and the silhouette of Lake Merced Park down to San Pedro Valley and McNee Ranch State Park.

They went on for miles. The survivors on the meadow dwindled until they didn’t see one for several minutes until the downtown city lights and the massive fires slowly shrunk at their tail. Easton asked Marcus how much gas they had and told him that they had enough to go on for at least two hundred and fifty miles on both vehicles.

Hopefully, that’s enough to get us as far away as possible, Easton thought.

“Holy fucking shit,” Paul exclaimed. “Look! At the left!”

Easton whirled around and looked to where Paul was pointing at, his mouth hung open, and felt like all the air left his lungs.

It was as if a laser had cut straight through McNee State Park, shearing cleanly all the hills, the roads, the forests, and the few towns along the way, protruding from the ground were loose electric cables, sewer lines, and water pipe conduits. The nearby town of Montara looked like it was split open, half of it was the glowing embers of fire spreading across the suburbs while the other laid the meadow’s swathe of darkness, contrasting the two. To Easton, it looked like someone plucked off the entire peninsula and then smashed it onto the ground.

“Help is never coming,” Easton muttered under his breath.

“No,” said Marcus. “Not when they don’t know where we are.”

Easton peered his eyes away, and lowered his head down, focusing on getting warm instead. He breathed warm air over his hands and rubbed them together, thinking nicer thoughts, something to take his mind off of everything, hoping at the same time that everything would be alright.

The next time he looked up minutes later, San Francisco was a speck of light miles and miles away.

“Woods ahead. Over,” Blake said over the radio.

Easton turned around, saw that the meadow retreated ahead as sparse clusters of conifers and pines stood close to the approaching tree line, and south of it was a sea of wood and foliage. Another range of mountains soared in the far distance.

Something caught Marcus’s eyes to their right, and he quickly ordered Blake to head in that direction. It was hard for Easton to find what Marcus saw at first, but as they got closer, a wide path big enough to build an interstate highway, revealed in front of them. Trampled trees and branches were swept to the side, looking like a stampede had cut them all down. The two vehicles stopped short of the woods’ border, pulling up in front of the path.

“Kill all the lights,” Marcus said over the radio. “We don’t want any attention.” Roylan and Blake switched off their engines, the beams of light illuminating the woods blinked out.

Blake, Kenny, Brett, Roylan, and Easton’s father hopped out of the vehicles and walked over to where Marcus stood at the back of the truck.

“Giants,” Marcus muttered. “It has to be them that did this.”

There was no denying it. Easton could see it, too. “It looks like hundreds of them came through here. We only saw a dozen. You think they came from the south?” Easton asked.

“In Connor’s video, they were waiting to ambush the city.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kenny said, “if they’re from the south, how are they attacking from the north—” he paused suddenly, realizing the answer.

“Because they know where exactly the city will be,” Marcus finished.

“Do you think there are more out there?” Blake asked, squinting against the darkness as he studied the woods. Easton did, too.

“I wouldn’t count it out. Expect the worst,” said Marcus.

Blake sighed. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“That’s good. It’ll keep us on our toes.”

“So, what’s the plan? Should we continue heading south?” asked Roylan.

Marcus paused, scratching his chin as he mulled it over. “If we follow the path they made, it’ll be easier for our vehicles to drive through them.”

“—But we risk finding more of those giants along the way,” Kenny interjected.

“That’s one of the risks. If we head into the woods, we’ll be driving blind, but it is still too dense for us to risk it. But instead of taking the giants’ path, we can just drive parallel to it. That way, we remain hidden in the woods.”

An argument ensued between the men, debating which one was the safest or the riskiest, weighing the options as the minutes ticked by fast. The others from the truck climbed out as well to join the increasingly heated discussion. Easton had to peel himself away from the group, staring at the wide path ahead to think. He liked the first option best since he doubted they’d be able to follow the way south through the darkness when they couldn’t even see the stars from the thick canopy to guide them. Driving parallel also posed a risk as hundreds of snapped trees, boulders, and foliage was scattered ahead, and he was uncertain if the weight of their vehicles could manage to climb over them, wasting their dwindling gas.

Easton caught sight of Jacob standing at the edge of the path, staring off into space. Walking up to him, he nudged his shoulders, bringing the boy back from his thoughts.

“Whatcha thinking?” Easton asked him.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. All of it seems dangerous. Eli doesn’t want to go in the woods, but Connor says we have to take risks. Dad seems not to like the woods either. I’m confused.”

“It is tempting to drive straight through that. Open space. Less trouble.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jacob said, shifting uncomfortably on his spot.

Easton smiled. “I feel a but coming…”

Jacob’s eyes widened, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Well…”

“It’s okay, Jacob. You can tell me anything.”

“Um, I think we’re being watched.”

Easton was taken aback. “What makes you say that?” He instinctively looked around the woods, peering through the darkness if he could make out anything that resembled eyes or a humanoid figure. He ended up with nothing.

“Just a feeling,” Jacob said, but Easton felt like there was more to it.

“It’s normal to assume you’re being watched in the dark, Jacob. I do feel that, too.”

“What if I say I have a friend…”

Easton took a pause. “A—A friend?”

“Yes, a friend who knows the way. Will you believe me?”

“What kind of friend?”

“A good friend. And it’s not imaginary if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m too old for imaginary friends.”

“Well, I didn’t think that,” Easton lied.

“Good. Then, will you believe me?”

Easton nodded hesitantly. “What did your friend say?”

Jacob’s shoulder slumped dejectedly. “Well, he doesn’t say much, but he thinks it’s safe to pass through this way. I don’t think he likes the woods much.”

“Well, I don’t like the woods, either,” Easton said.

“I think Max wants us to stay away from it.”

“Max?”

“That’s what I named him. Or her, I don’t really know if it’s a girl or a boy.” Jacob looked out onto the spot where Easton found him staring.

There was nothing there.

“I guess he’s still too shy to meet you,” Jacob said. “He’s very shy, but he can help us. He can also do magic.”

“I—” Easton paused, biting his lower lip, staring at the space where Jacob pointed at. “I can see that. He’s invisible.”

“Camouflage,” Jacob corrected.

“Right. Camouflage.”

Easton had seen it many times in children trying to cope with a traumatic event. He was no psychologist, but he surmised it was a way for Jacob to deal with what had happened in the city, all the chaos and destruction he had witnessed, and to bear the disappearance of his mother and sisters.

Easton frowned, patting Jacob on the back. “Your friend did good work helping.”

At that, Jacob beamed a wide smile. “You think so? I think he could help us a lot.”

“How about we tell your dad what you think? He might listen,” Easton said, steering the boy back to the group who were still discussing their next move. Jacob nodded excitedly and walked over to the truck.

Easton spared a glance back at the spot Jacob pointed at, dog-like paws lightly imprinted on the snow, but as he blinked, it vanished.

I must be imagining it, Easton thought, and continued toward the truck.

Marcus placed it onto a vote, gathering everyone around him. Connor and Eli wanted to join in as well, and after a slew of pouting and huffing, Marcus allowed the kids to join the circle. The first option won in the end out of the three. Eight votes out of sixteen, with Willie, being a three-year-old, the only one who didn’t get to vote.

Easton could see why it won. Many of the others still feared what waited inside the gloom of the woods, if they might encounter other monstrosities as they stumbled blindly in the darkness. Easton thought of and feared the same things. What if more monsters were waiting that didn’t join the giants, the monkeys, or the dragon? If they decided to attack, they wouldn’t be able to see it coming. Were they going to be as large as the giants or as small as those monkeys? At least on the giants’ trampled path, they’ll be able to see the threats coming from both sides, aided by the light of the two moons shining above.

“I’m worried about Jacob,” Easton said to Marcus. “I think it’s taking a toll on him. I talked to him earlier, and he talked about an imaginary friend.”

Marcus looked at his son sitting on the back passenger seat of the truck. “I’ll talk to him when we find a safe place to camp, and I’ll also have a talk with Connor and Eli as well. I don’t think it’s easy for them to deal with all of this.”

“If you need help, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Easton. For telling me.”

“So, the giants’ path?”

Marcus sighed. “Yeah. Keep an eye out. Watch the woods closely.”

Easton nodded. “Will do.”

They both climbed onto the back of the truck as Blake switched on the Jeep’s engines and started moving toward the path. Easton looked for the box on the truck bed, where he stored more blankets, finding them near the pile of swords to the left. He opened the box and pulled out three thick cotton fleece blankets, handing the first two to Marcus and Paul and keeping the last for him.

“For extra warmth,” Easton said, “I see a long drive ahead.”

Bundled comfortably with the blankets, the truck lurched forward and trailed after the Jeep.