Chapter 51: The Feral Turn
The biting cold had stripped away the final remnants of human dignity from the streets of Blackwood Crest, leaving behind a hollow desperation that gnawed at the bellies of the freezing survivors. When the central power grid collapsed and the emergency fuel lines failed, the people living along the avenue had clung to their expensive cellphones, waiting for private couriers, municipal plow convoys, or corporate rescue helicopters that never arrived. By the fourth morning of subzero isolation, the reality of their abandonment had settled deep into their bones, accompanied by the unrelenting, physical agony of true starvation.
The human body could endure cold for days if stoked by calories, but when fuel ran out both in the fireplaces and in the stomach, the mind
