PROLOGUE  

He runs fast. But the creature runs faster. Scrambling in a panicked frenzy, he struggles to remain steady on his feet. It takes only a matter of seconds for him to be immobilised by an inconveniently-placed piece of rubble. He falls to the hard, cold ground, his face pressed against the floor. Clutching his notebook close to his chest, he turns to face his horrific pursuer. It opens its jaw, snarling and growling with unquenchable hunger, releasing a cloud of putrid stench. A stench of rotten flesh. An unmistakable stench of death. He opens his notebook, his hands shaking like a leaf as he turns the pages until he’s met with blank paper. He scribbles one more word. One last piece of evidence to contribute to his research.  

‘Teeth’.