Ben kept a lookout from the tree house using a pair of binoculars he’d dug out of the garage. Below him, Jaime darted from tree to car, keeping his head down.

In the middle of the street stood a patchwork pillar of flesh. Another one, thicker and taller, towered over the trees the next street over. Ben didn’t know what to call them. He’d seen grown ups walk into its fleshly embrace and gradually get absorbed. Jaime’s parents were in there somewhere.

Zooming in further, Ben followed the trunk upwards. That was new. Clusters of pods or sacks were budding along the upper lip of the pillar. As he watched, one of them quivered as if something inside was eager to escape.

Gross. Ben scanned the ground looking for Jaime. He was nowhere to be seen. Dread funneled through Ben, like a cold finger drifting down his spine.

There was loud wet sound as one of the pods fell down and splattered into the street. Something among the mucus-y fragments began to uncoil.

Not knowing what else to do Ben yelled, “Jaime, RUN!”