A full moon massacre. Thirteen people mauled by an uncontrollable beast. Eleven victims dead. Two on life support in hospital.
The next morning, Lou stumbles into the emergency room. Third-degree burns all across his chest. Doesn’t tell the doctors they’re from point-blank flare gunfire—some unlucky woman’s feeble attempt at self-defence.
Lou’s fangs and claws did her in. Now, searing pain’s practically killing Lou.
Medical staff get him situated. Sedated. Apply topical antibiotic ointment to his wounds.
Silver sulfadiazine, to be precise.
The patient’s flesh melts further, as if doused with acid.
Nurses shriek.
Lou awakens, howling from liquefying lungs.
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