A young boy struggles to comprehend the apocalyptic nightmare unfolding around him, desperately seeking safety as his family races through a landscape of terrifying storms toward an even greater danger.

I am hoping bad for the Magic Sword Ladies to come, hoping so hard my stomach aches, when the new critters, the should-be-dead things, the not-raccoon things, start peeling up off the road. They are flat and floppy like an empty glove, so they take turns blowing into each other’s snouts and inflating themselves like furry balloons and then they shovel up their squished-out insides with their broken jaws and fill themselves full again.