Service Station.

The first sign that something was wrong came at eleven fourteen on a wet Thursday night.

Rain tapped against the glass frontage of the motorway service station while Ethan Murray stood behind the customer service desk studying a maintenance report. One of the chillers had failed again. The coffee machine near the entrance displayed an error code nobody could decipher. Two members of staff had called in sick.

Compared to most nights, it felt busy.

Families drifted through carrying bags of fast food. Truck drivers occupied corners of the seating area with mugs of tea. A coach bound for Plymouth had arrived twenty minutes earlier, filling the building with tired travelers stretching their legs before continuing south.

Normal. Completely normal.

Then every television screen switched to the same news channel.

A newsreader sat rigid behind a desk.

“...reports continue to emerge from several cities across the country. Authorities are urging the public to avoid unnecessary travel...”

Shaky footage flashed briefly across the screen.

People running.

Police vehicles.

Someone screaming.

The image vanished.

Most customers barely reacted.

Ethan did.

The report felt wrong.

Incomplete.

His radio crackled.

“Manager to forecourt.”

“Owen?”

“There’s a bloke out here acting weird.”

Ethan crossed the building and stepped outside.

Cold air greeted him.

The forecourt glistened beneath bright lights.

Near pump seven, Owen pointed toward a man staggering between parked vehicles.

At first glance he seemed drunk.

Then Ethan noticed the blood.

The stranger collided with a hatchback, lifted vacant eyes toward them, released a wet groan, and collapsed face first onto the tarmac.

“You call emergency services?” Ethan asked.

Owen nodded.

“They said there were delays.”

That answer worried Ethan more than the body.

A truck horn blasted.

A lorry rolled onto the forecourt.

Its driver jumped from the cab.

“Get inside!” he shouted.

“What happened?”

“There are people attacking motorists on the motorway.”

Rain streamed down the man’s face.

“They’re biting people.”