Terminal (Tunnels: Book 6)

Schraack!
The small skull split open under Will’s boot, the hollow sound resounding through the empty New Germanian street. Will hadn’t been looking where he was treading as he’d moved towards the pavement, and had completely failed to notice the diminutive skeleton stretched out in the gutter.
‘Oh … my … good … God,’ Will swallowed as he stood over the skeleton, which had to have been that of a child.
Although very little brain tissue remained inside the skull, the sight of the empty pupal casings spilling out was horrifying. The climate of this inner world with its ever-burning sun couldn’t have been more favourable for the armies of voracious flies, which had stripped the flesh from the human skeletons in a matter of weeks. Eight weeks to be precise. And stripped
it so efficiently that the stench of decay that once hung over
the dead city had almost completely vanished.
Everywhere Will looked there were sun-bleached bones,
mostly poking from crumpled clothes.