Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 41: Shiver

Elisa had moved. Her foot almost slipped in the grass as she turned to run. Maggie was already ahead of her, bolting as if her life depended on it — and clearly, it did.

She was out of breath, but she dug deep into her last reserves of strength to keep going. Strangely, the ground felt slipperier than before, like the slightest misstep would send her flying.

And if she fell, she’d be at the mercy of those flesh-hungry creatures again. Or worse: she’d become one of them, a puppet with no will of her own.

Elisa was scared. Scared she wouldn’t be fast enough. She ran, ignoring the cramp biting at her heel the moment it struck.

It was like a silent rage flooded her, a thirst for life she’d never known. Not even when she’d been thrown to the Hystrix. Not even when the people she thought were her family — the ones she’d grown up with — betrayed her.

But this... this was nothing compared to what she felt now. This time, she was running for her life. Her fate rested in her legs. She pushed herself, over and over, until she felt nothing anymore.

And yet, their pursuers didn’t relent either. They panted, growled — the scent of fresh flesh was driving them mad. They wanted her. They wanted to taste that still-intact body.

One of them got close. Too close. Ready to grab her. But a loud crack split the air — a shot. The puppet’s head exploded, its body dropping instantly.

"Don’t look back!" shouted Dylan, emptying the last rounds of his rifle to buy them a few more seconds.

Elisa didn’t need to hear it. She just did what she did best: run.

Her breath burned, each step slicing through her lungs. Her chest was screaming, but she refused to slow down. Around her, the trees blurred — melted by the speed and panic.

Behind them, the puppets’ raspy groans still echoed, like a death cry that wouldn’t die.

Maggie veered sharply, slipping on a patch of wet moss before diving through a curtain of branches. Elisa followed without thinking, arms and face scratched as she plowed through.

They burst out onto Dylan. He was kneeling, rifle up, focused. Each shot cracked with precision. Each bullet found its mark — right in a puppet’s skull.

The girls froze — panting — and that’s when they saw it: the full horde of puppets, a moving tide of broken bodies and empty stares, charging at them.

Dylan slowly stood. His grey eyes met Elisa’s golden ones. His expression shifted. He pulled her into a tight hug, almost crushing.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely.

Elisa stood frozen, surprised. This wasn’t the time. Or the place. And yet...

"Okay, but we should go... They’re coming," she replied, her gaze already locked on the swarm.

All three of them darted forward, following the path Elisa had pointed out.

Behind them, the puppets had oddly stopped. Maybe they’d reached the edge of their territory. Or maybe something else was holding them back... But none of them dared to check.

They kept running, never slowing, driven by adrenaline and instinct. The ground raced beneath them, branches whipped their faces, and the sudden silence was almost more unsettling than the groans had been.

They had to put as much distance as possible between themselves and that nightmarish zone.

---

They’d been running for nearly an hour. Of course, they hadn’t sprinted the whole way — sometimes they slowed down, caught their breath, walked for a bit, then ran again as soon as their legs allowed it.

The forest around them was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Not a cry, not a rustle. Just the crunch of damp leaves underfoot and their still-ragged breathing.

Then, finally, they broke into a clearing.

Well... "clearing" was a generous word. It was wide, yes, but you couldn’t really see the far end. An open, empty, crushing space, ringed by trees as black as night. Still, as Elisa had promised, it was a clearing. So they went with it. Not like they had much choice.

In reality, when they reached the so-called clearing, it must’ve been around noon — maybe eleven. The sun was high, merciless, right above their heads. The heat was heavy and sticky, definitely not fun — especially not for rookies.

But hey. Two of them had survived a nuclear war. And the third had spent her whole life in this forest. So yeah, sudden heat? Been there, done that.

What really bothered them wasn’t the sun.

It was the emptiness. This open space, surrounded by a ring of trees that felt like they were watching. They were alone. And the oppressive silence was not doing them any favors.

Elisa handed Dylan his machete. He gave it a quick once-over, ran a finger along the edge, narrowed his eyes.

The blade was showing signs of wear.

"Can’t be helped..." Elisa thought. "It’s not even good metal. What surprises me is how long it’s lasted."

They walked through the clearing, not daring to enjoy the illusion of safety it offered.

They knew better.

The forest had taught them one simple rule: if a place feels safe, it’s probably because whatever lives there isn’t.

With that mindset firmly in place, they kept moving forward, eyes and senses sharp. The tall grass brushed against their legs, their boots — or their bellies, for the shorter ones.

But... nothing.

No tracks. No droppings. No bones. Not even an insect. Just this vast stretch of untouched greenery.

The kind of place that screams trap without making a sound.

"Lise, don’t you think it’s weird this clearing’s still like this after thirty years?" Dylan asked, leading the way.

Elisa stayed silent for a moment, thoughtful, her gaze calm. Then she smirked — light, almost teasing.

"Oh really? I hadn’t noticed," she replied, all faux innocence.

Dylan gave her a sideways look, half-disappointed, half-exasperated.

She felt it without even turning.

"Don’t give me that look..." she sighed. "Even my grandma — who lived over a hundred years — knew this clearing just like this. My mom too. And now me. So yeah, I don’t know what to think."

They kept walking a while longer, still on that endless carpet of grass.

Finally, they reached what could vaguely be called the center of the clearing.

From there, they could see the opposite side — framed by another cluster of trees. Looked welcoming at first. Almost cozy. Too cozy, in fact.

But they’d have to walk just as far to reach it.

And in the meantime, Elisa had had enough. She slowed, grumbled, and ended up grabbing Dylan’s bag, breath short.

"I’m thirsty... Give me some water. Just a bit."

Dylan, weak to feminine whining — flat or not, as he liked to remind himself — gave in. Well, sort of.

He drank half the bottle himself, all innocent, then handed the rest to Elisa, carefully. He knew her, after all. The elf had a habit of "accidentally" draining entire supplies.

But... she didn’t even get to take a sip.

Out of nowhere, without warning, Elisa collapsed — like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Thud. frёeωebɳovel.com

Face-first into the grass.

"Shit!" Dylan shouted, rushing over, already on his knees, gently turning her over.

Maggie froze, weapon ready. Her eyes scanned the surroundings.

No tracks. No noise. No shadow.

And yet... something had clearly struck.