Interlude
JONES
A week passed as Jones slunk around the shuttle, watching, waiting for quarantine to be lifted and the survivors allowed on board the ship. There would be some dark corner of a corner, some hidden place he could birth the Larva lurking in his core.
Jones slipped out of the shuttle once it was cleared of survivors.
He’d long since abandoned anything that could identify him, track him, control him.
He was more Void than man now, his form distorted and wounds disguised.
He slipped through crowds of people, down stairs that bit into his bony feet and rails that slipped beneath his bloody hands.
No one saw him, or if they did, he was merely a shadow, a fleck in their eyes, a memory immediately forgotten.
And when Jones reached the city streets, he started to hunt.