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  The Jeep disappeared beneath a horde of swarming black. Merwin was surrounded. There was no going back.

  And there was no stopping, either. They were coming for her.

  “Go!” Merwin yelled. “I’ll be right behind—” His sentence ended with a cry. Abigail’s heart sank.

  Don’t look back, Abby, she pleaded with herself. Don’t you dare look back.

  She could hear them all around her now, their droning alien and terrifying. The brush rattled behind her, even beside her. They were close.

  KY’s hand felt clammy in hers. Her grip began to slip. She held on with all her might, never wanting to let go.

  But fate worked against her. Her hand slipped free. Her momentum carried her tumbling forward. She somersaulted back onto her feet but couldn’t keep her balance, falling to one knee.

  KY stopped and rushed to her side.

  “Don’t stop,” she snapped, angry that he’d risk his life for her. Or was that guilt she felt? “Run, damn it!”

  KY gasped. Something whizzed by Abigail’s head so fast that she barely saw it. Wisps of her hair floated on a draft it left behind. Like a cannonball, another shit pancake propelled itself at KY. He saw it coming and ducked without a moment to spare. Judging by its size—much larger than the others Abigail had thus far seen—it might have taken her husband’s head clean off.

  The creature sailed into the trees before them. Abigail and KY veered left and ran even harder. Those awful things, those monstrosities, scurried like rodents across their path. KY booted one, and it sailed like a soccer ball into a far-off goal. Abigail sidestepped one, then another, wondering how long she could keep it up.

  KY seemed to be running with a purpose beyond the obvious life-or-death stakes. He ran toward something. What did he see? What lay ahead?

  A light glinted over his shoulder and was gone. Abigail wondered if she had imagined it, but it returned, again and again, each time KY’s shoulder dropped.

  Is that a cabin? The light was rectangular. It was ethereal, a fragile portal offering hope and safety shrouded by dying leaves and scraggly branches. She saw no yard between her and it—just death and worms.

  Still, Abigail strained to reach it. What other hope of escape did she have? Her legs wobbled beneath her, a dull ache running through every inch of them. She had pushed them far beyond their limits, and yet, she asked more of them.

  They had no more to give. Less than a hundred yards from the cabin, her legs failed her. She fell. Her hands and face slid along wet earth.

  I’m sorry, Karl. I should have been kinder. One of those slug monsters landed on her back, tearing and gnashing.

  White-hot pain seared through her muscle. The thing had latched onto her back like a wet suction cup against a glass surface. She felt something tugging at her arm and tried to pull away, but KY latched on, too. He helped her to her feet. His sheer will was enough to force her forward.

  Karl, you stupid fool. You ignorant, fat, heroic, mindless savior. She could have kissed him then, if she hadn’t been screaming.

  “It’s on my back,” she managed between howls. “Oh God, it’s burrowing into my back!”

  KY, her knight, took control. He was a vision of assuredness, all confidence and machismo. Oh, how she loved him then. Without hesitating, he spun her around and seized the thing on her back.

  He tugged. Abigail screamed. The creature tugged back.

  Abigail hadn’t thought the pain could get any worse, but there it was, setting her nerve endings afire. Her synapses shot thousands of needles into her brain, but no matter how much it hurt, her desire to have that murderous leech torn from her back won out over all others.

  “Get that fucking thing off me!” she screamed.

  KY obeyed. The slug monster’s mouth detached with a popping sound, like a plunger returning to its normal shape after use. A gurgle rose from the creature’s throat. The rest of the thing came free, taking with it a patch of Abigail’s vest, her shirt beneath that, and some of her flesh. The layers had helped to minimize the damage, she thought, for the first time thankful to have been wearing them. She howled madly. Well worth the pain, to be free of that parasite.

  She turned to see KY’s hands clenched around a writhing, oozing mass. From its mouth, dark slime sputtered as if it were coughing up phlegm. Behind him, the very brush seemed to be rolling toward them. A wave of those creatures was about to crash down on them.

  “Keep going,” KY said, struggling with the slug monster.

  The creature jerked violently in his hands. Abigail watched in horror as it fell to the ground along with several of her husband’s fingers. He stared dumbfounded at the nubs, as if he couldn’t understand where his fingers had gone. The creature hit the dirt and rebounded onto KY’s shin, where it held fast.

  KY reached for her with his mangled hand. Abigail took it, tears welling in her eyes, but as she turned to run, her hand glided across his bloodied palm. Her vision blurred. Her mind began to fog. Though faint, she swore she heard someone calling to them in the distance.

  That sound was broken by the thump of a slug against skull. KY staggered forward, his arms out before him, pushing into Abigail. A creature writhed upon his head.

  “Leave me,” he said, his voice calm, his expression far from it. His complexion turned ashen gray. His eyelids drooped. Just before he fell to the ground, he managed one more word. “Go.”

  But Abigail wouldn’t. She couldn’t leave him after all he had done for her. She saw the head of a creature poking over the top of KY’s. His fate was all but sealed. Still, she wouldn’t leave him, not until one of them was dead. She had made a vow once. A nervous titter escaped her lips. Till death do us part.

  She collapsed onto her hands and knees, hovering near KY as he twitched and screamed. Her mouth went dry. Her mind couldn’t focus. She felt drunk. Something wasn’t right. Had she really lost that much blood already?

  KY rolled to his stomach, still fighting. Another one of those vampiric bastards clung to his back. Her husband crawled closer. She wanted to help him, to lead him to safety as he’d tried to do for her. Hands pulled her to her feet. They tugged her away.

  “No,” she begged, but she lacked the strength to fight.

  “It’s too late for him,” Merwin’s gruff voice said. He breathed heavily. His wire-brush beard tickled her cheek.

  “Over here! Help!” another voice shouted, high-pitched but male. Abigail struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “Get back inside,” Merwin ordered. With his assistance, Abigail found herself standing, putting one foot in front of the other. She felt like a puppet on strings, and she began to move faster. But toward what?

  “Holy shit!” A boy with curly hair came into view. “What are those things?”

  Merwin urged her forward. He shouted back at the boy. “Get inside, I said. They’re everywhere. Be ready to slam the door behind us. You shut it in our faces, and I swear I will come back from the grave to tear you apart.”

  Light washed over Abigail. She crossed a threshold.

  “No!” she shouted, turning, and dove toward her husband. With all that she had left, she forced her mind to clear. Her hand caught the doorframe and held tight.

  KY was still crawling toward her. He reached out to Abigail. He needed her, but several hands were holding her back.

  “Come on, KY. Come on, Karl… please.” She sobbed freely. “You have to make it.”

  “Help me with her.” Merwin tried to tear her hand from the doorframe.

  Still, KY came forward like a soldier crawling beneath barbed wire. Still, he reached for her.

  Abigail clawed at the floor as Merwin dragged her inside. The door slammed closed, shutting out her last glimpses of KY as the creatures fell upon him. Her damp cheeks collected dust and dirt as she slid along the floor.

  The room was lit, though she couldn’t see more than the light itself. Her head was groggy and her vision fleeting. Darkness beat at the door to her mind. She let it in.<
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  Chapter 11

  Tyler waited for Mark and Thing One to pass by him. Thing Two, a monstrous brute with thick biceps and a tree trunk for a neck, followed behind his brother. Dakota seemed like someone who could handle herself, and maybe against any one of them she could have. But against all three?

  Why help her? They won’t do much worse to her than she planned to do to you.

  Tyler winced. It was his father’s voice trying to reason with him. At what time had his father ever been reasonable?

  Because she doesn’t deserve this, he answered. She’s been through enough.

  Tyler ripped himself from his thoughts, feeling compelled to help a girl who meant him harm. He shimmied the handcuff’s chain across the rope by pulling his right hand down much like one would stretch out a pull string on a hoodie to shorten the other. When his left hand was close enough, he grabbed the rope and pulled himself up. He raised his knee and drove his heel into Thing Two’s nose.

  The crunch he heard made him smile despite his pain. Thing Two staggered backward. Blood spouted from his nostrils then shot between his fingers as he tried to plug his nose. His teeth were pink rectangles outlined in dark red.

  “I’m going to fuck you up for that.” He sounded as if he had a cold, swallowing blood as if it were postnasal drip. Tyler’s ambush had caught him off-guard, but it had only slowed him. Worse yet, it had filled him with rage.

  Thing Two raised his fists. Then he charged.

  Tyler had his next move all planned out. He lifted his legs to wrap them around Thing Two’s neck. He was going to scissor Thing Two’s head and choke him out or snap his neck the way he’d seen someone do in an action film.

  Thing Two saw Tyler’s feet coming and easily deflected them. Defenseless, Tyler became a human punching bag. By the fifth blow, it occurred to him that he had not planned his attack as well as he had thought.

  Still, he’d been hit worse. The Dr. Seuss reject, big as he was, hit like a little girl—until he punched Tyler in his stab wound. That hurt.

  “I’ll get back to you,” the twin said after throwing a few more punches for good measure. “It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” He pushed past Tyler to join the action behind him.

  Tyler wished he could see what was happening. Dakota sounded like she was putting up the fight of her life. Maybe she was even fending them off. How long could she hold out?

  Objects crashed against walls. Metallic things clanged against the floor. Something heavy fell against the ropes.

  Tyler’s arms shot up. His knuckles rapped the crossbeam, exposing the raw tissue beneath scraped-away skin. The cuffs dug deeper into his wrists. He wondered how much deeper they could cut before they tore open his veins.

  The weight against the rope lessened. Tyler grimaced and began to drop. His feet landed on the ground.

  “Fuck!” Mark shouted. “The whore cut me. Will one of you pin her down already? Where the hell is that worthless pledge?”

  “Don’t worry. I got her,” one of the twins said. Tyler could hear the smile in his voice.

  Am I free? Tyler’s arms hung in front of him. He tugged the rope and found he had some slack. It gave a little, then tightened. The struggle behind him had jarred loose the other end of the rope. That gave him an idea.

  Hand over hand, Tyler climbed the rope up to the crossbeam. He twisted sideways and threw his left leg over the beam, leaving plenty of space between it and the roof for him to squeeze through. Drawing up the slack behind him, he tossed it over the beam. Then he threw his right leg over and dropped to the other side.

  The activity had caused more pain to his wrists and stab wounds. He bit into his lower lip to stifle his cries. He checked his wounds. His shirt was matted against his skin, but he didn’t seem to be losing too much blood.

  He quietly scooped the rope into his hands. His gaze traced the length to its other end. The only bind still holding was a flimsy knot tied around the leg of a table pushed against the shack’s back wall. A large wooden barrel sat beside it, the kind that might hold potatoes, wine, or moonshine. He guessed it had once sat on top of the rope.

  The table had to be heavy, or his climb would have pulled it across the room, but the part that his rope was tied to looked like a gateleg. If he could pull it so it swung toward him, he figured he could tip the table, pull himself free, and leave.

  Her attackers had Dakota pressed against the back wall, each twin pinning an arm. Mark was prying down her jeans, grunting and sweating like a boar in heat. Dakota writhed and cursed, kicking with her heels. None of it did her any good. Her battle was as good as lost.

  Just leave her, man. It’s not your fight.

  Tyler couldn’t blame that thought on his father. That was all him. Looking at the table, he knew he should leave her. The rusty saw, set of pliers, power drill, and assortment of cutlery hinted at the extent of agony that would have come his way. He doubted he would have remained strong like he’d promised himself. If he had begged, Dakota wouldn’t have given him a second chance. If he left without helping her, she’d never have a second chance at him.

  Yet after all he’d put her through, that seemed unfair. It made him feel dirty, guilty.

  She wants to torture you. She’s better off here with her brother.

  Ah, there was good ol’ Dad.

  Defying the man, even long after he was gone, was bittersweet. Tyler’s defiance mixed with guilt, duty, and honor, and each played a part in slowing his retreat, but something else drove him to Dakota’s side.

  Redemption. Even if it wasn’t possible, he had to try.

  The frat boys were after more than just Dakota’s death. They wanted to do something far worse than she deserved. She was seriously twisted, and Tyler was no white knight, but he knew what it was like to live with something like that. He couldn’t let it happen to her.

  He yanked the rope sideways as hard as he could. The leaf of the table, heavy with tools, folded as the leg came out from under it. Tyler yanked again, and the knot slid down as the table tipped, scattering the rest of Dakota’s crude weaponry across the floor. The rope came free.

  Despite the noise he had made, the frat boys paid him little attention… except for the twin tower whose nose he had broken. He released Dakota’s arm and came at Tyler. Blood streaked like walrus tusks in straight lines beneath his nose.

  “Leave him, Bo,” Mark ordered. “He’s not our problem.”

  “But he broke my nose.”

  “You’ll live. Get back over here and help me with her. She’s a feisty one. Not like last time, huh, Dakota?” He grinned devilishly at Tyler. “Hey, bro, the door’s that way. Use it.”

  Bo snarled and hesitated, staring down Tyler like an attack dog. Then, like a dog, he obeyed his master. He shrank back to Mark’s side.

  Somehow, Dakota had managed to keep Mark from sticking his filthy cock in her, but he was starting to poke and prod her with it now, the ape twins urging him on.

  Fucking college kids. All they learn in school is how to think with their dicks. Tyler looked for Dakota’s switchblade. He saw it stuck into the wall near Bo, out of reach.

  His hands tightened around the rope. His jaw clenched. A feeling began to burn inside him, slowly at first.

  Fucking rapists.

  He sprang forward. In two steps, Tyler had the rope around Thing One’s throat. He yanked hard.

  The bigger they are…

  Thing One’s feet left the floor. He gasped for air and clawed at the rope as he crashed onto his back. Tyler followed his motion, crouching as the big man fell, keeping the noose tucked under his chin. Moving in close, he crossed the rope ends and pulled.

  The twin rolled to his stomach. He tried to stand, but Tyler buried his sneaker into the space between Thing One’s shoulder blades. With violent jerks, Tyler shifted his victim so that he could see the others when they came. He crouched for leverage then crossed and twisted the two lengths of rope as if he were starting a braid.

  A high-
pitched whine came from below him. Thing One arched back, the veins in his neck fattening, the blood having nowhere to go. His face was already plum-colored. Desperation showed in eyes bulging as if they wanted out of their sockets. Tyler couldn’t help but wonder if squeezing harder would make them pop out.

  The twin was going to die. Tyler was okay with that. He had no intention of letting up.

  “Hold her.” Mark slung Dakota at Bo, who wrapped her in a bear hug. She looked like a child in his massive arms.

  Mark pulled the switchblade from the wall. “She was going to kill you!” he shouted, trembling with rage. He cracked his neck. “I don’t know what’s going through that damaged brain of yours, but you just made a big mistake, bro.”

  Maybe, Tyler thought, but he refused to show doubt. He watched as Mark approached. The frat boy’s steps were hesitant, cautious. While Mark took his time planning his attack, his fraternity pal’s life was slipping away. Already, Thing One’s flopping was down to that of a fish that had been too long out of water. Two on one is better than three on one. Tyler didn’t want to think where Dakota might weigh in.

  Dakota drove the back of her head into Bo’s already broken nose.

  “Goddamn it!” Bo said. Blood fell in waterfalls down the cliffs of his upper lip, restaining them red. Instinct brought his hands to his face. Dakota was free. She pulled up her pants and circled Mark, a viper certain to strike.

  Two on two. Tyler nodded at Dakota. She nodded back. On the same side—for now.

  “Over here! Help!” The words came from outside, from Frosh maybe. Tyler heard another voice. Someone was coming.

  He kept his eyes on his circling foes. Dakota chanced a look outside. Her face registered confusion. Her second glance outside became a stare.