They Feed Page 9

  Mark dropped his hand by his side. “Why does it look like the bushes are following them?”

  Normally, Tyler wouldn’t have fallen for such a juvenile trick, but unless Mark was the star of his theater class at Kansas University East, Tyler doubted he was acting. He let the rope run through his grip. Thing One coughed and wheezed beneath him. He made no attempt to rise.

  “No!” a woman screeched behind him. Startled, Tyler turned. What he saw made him shudder.

  The woman, around thirty, with a hurdler’s legs and a homeless person’s wardrobe, clung to the doorframe while an older gentleman struggled to pull her into the cabin. Tyler recognized him as the park ranger he had seen earlier.

  “Help me with her,” the ranger said to anyone who would listen.

  Her face, drained of blood, looked skeletal, her mouth hanging open in fright, her legs kicking. Her pupils were periods on an otherwise blank page. Tyler guessed that she was higher than Mount St. Helens. Her skin was clammy, her sweat thick as chowder on her skin. Except for her flushed cheeks, she appeared to be freezing or having a seizure with spasms afflicting her entire body. The veins in her neck and temples bulged, a dark purple fluid pumping through them.

  Tyler dropped the rope and ran to the ranger’s side. Before he knew what was happening, he and Dakota were on opposite sides of the woman, wrenching her off the doorframe. The woman would not relent. Her eyes shook in their sockets, the pupils still dilated to the max. In some ways, she looked like any number of junkies Tyler had seen in prison, but Tyler saw that her drug was nothing like anything he’d tried or had ever wanted to.

  Frosh stood behind the door, ready to close it as soon as everyone was inside. The woman’s hand came free. She went limp, muttering incoherently as they dragged her along the floor. The building shook as Frosh slammed the door shut.

  Mark stood frozen, his mouth gaping. Had he seen what was out there?

  The ranger latched the door and threw his back against it as it rattled in its frame. He dropped a rifle at his feet. A chunk of its stock was missing. “Well, don’t just stand there, you morons. Help me.”

  Tyler studied the ranger, wondering if the same poison affecting the woman also affected him, but when the first bang hit the door, immediately followed by a second and a third, he ran over and braced it with his shoulder. Dakota soon added her hands. Even Mark tucked his blade into his belt and came to assist.

  Bo hung back, tending to his brother. Frosh took care of the woman.

  A barrage of thumps hit the door and wall. The rotted wood felt as though it would break apart with every hit. Still, the pounding came harder, faster. Tyler roared as he held back the assailants. What was outside wanted in.

  They will get in.

  Not if Tyler didn’t let them.

  You can’t stop them.

  He knew it was true, yet he tried. He strained against wall-rattling thuds, which came one after another for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the assault stopped. The plywood had cracked in several places, but it had held.

  Tyler eased off the door. The others didn’t exactly relax, but they, too, inched away.

  Mark drew his blade. He pointed it at everyone and no one at once. “Somebody’s got some explaining to do.”

  “Put the knife down, son.” The park ranger didn’t look like much, but his voice commanded attention. He picked up his rifle but did not point it at Mark. “We have bigger problems.”

  Chapter 12

  The woman who’d come in with the ranger lay on her back, unconscious. She moaned and thrashed in her sleep. Every now and then, her eyelids would flutter open. Sweat ran off her forehead and soaked her hair.

  Frosh took off his sweatshirt, bunched it up, and placed it gently beneath her head. He used its sleeve to dry her brow. “She’s hot. I’m no nurse, but her fever seems to be through the roof. We need to get her to a hospital.”

  Frosh, with his baby face and prepubescent body, struck Dakota as a boy who’d been playing at being a man, somehow still innocent despite his age and the company he kept.

  His stare moved from face to face, waiting for a reply, searching for someone who would answer his request. No one did. Dakota looked around the room. So many people she wanted dead were in the same goddamn place at the same goddamn time. If only she had some C-4 strapped around her stomach, she’d have blown that cabin and everyone in it straight to hell.

  And those things outside would have died with them, welcomed collateral damage. She suspected that everyone else had some idea of what was out there. She’d seen something, or a lot of somethings, moving toward them fast. They had swarmed the cabin like locusts, craving what hid inside. Why? How? What? She had no answers. She only knew that leaving was no longer an option.

  Watching Frosh lift the sick woman’s head into his lap, Dakota felt a little guilty for not helping. Still, she didn’t move, as if holding still was safer.

  Frosh dabbed the woman’s forehead, cheeks, and neck repeatedly with the sweatshirt that doubled as her pillow. As soon as he removed the sleeve, her head was wet again. The woman’s moans became words. She was calling out the name of someone who wasn’t there. Karl.

  Dakota studied her, searching for answers. What was happening to the woman? What were those things outside? She tried to understand what cruel god would have led that woman to those woods on that particular night when all of hell seemed to be gathering there. Dakota didn’t regret her reasons for being there, but some of these unlucky people—Frosh, the woman, and the ranger—had no business getting caught up in the madness that sinners like Dakota and the others had deservedly fallen into.

  Despite what anyone deserved, those vile creatures had served a purpose: they had established an unspoken truce among her human companions. If it had just been her, Mark, and Tyler, though, she wondered if she’d have opened the door and let those things in.

  Dakota looked at Tyler with satisfaction as her eyes fell upon his wounds. The feeling vanished when she thought about what she’d done, what she could never have imagined herself doing when Stevie was still alive. Her eyes shifted to Mark, then the twins. The one with the bloody nose still knelt beside his moaning, gasping brother, who hadn’t risen since Tyler had nearly strangled him to death. Mark was nothing without his bodyguards. She wondered why they followed him. Were they just as bent as Mark was?

  Mark kept his distance from Tyler and her, but Tyler didn’t seem to have a problem hanging near someone who had stabbed him only minutes prior. She couldn’t figure him out and really didn’t give a damn. As far as Dakota was concerned, he was just another bad apple in an already spoiled bunch.

  For the moment, the people in that shack had lost interest in one another. Their eyes rarely gave each other a passing glance, their attention spent on the walls and ceiling, always shifting.

  Aside from the sick woman’s wails, everyone was silent. Dakota caught herself holding her breath, listening. The walls reverberated with the noises made by the creatures moving on them. The gargling sound made her skin crawl.

  Mark was the first to break their silence. “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on already?” His voice wasn’t nearly as smug and confident as it had been when it was just he and his boys against her.

  Dakota scoffed. She knew Mark’s type—tough in a group, terrified when alone. His bravado was failing, and his true cowardly self was rising to the surface.

  Not that Mark didn’t have good reason to be afraid. She was scared shitless, too. Though the creatures were no longer thumping against the door, they were still crawling on the outside of the cabin.

  Their activity increased at the sound of Mark’s voice as if they were drawn to it. They hissed and banged, clawed at the wood. Scratching came from all four walls. The roof creaked beneath their weight. Every so often, a row of talons or teeth, or whatever those sharp bone-white protrusions were, breached the wood and retracted as though they were trying to chew their way in.

  What was
stopping them? The shack was so run-down that a strong gust of wind might have blown it over. Why didn’t they just come in and bring the night to its inevitable conclusion? A feast the likes of which they probably had never experienced waited under a toothpick roof between popsicle-stick walls. All they had to do was take it. Neither Dakota nor anyone else there could do a damn thing to stop them. Her only hope was that she’d get to see Tyler and Mark go first.

  “Anyone?” Mark pressed.

  “Shut up,” Dakota said, her own voice hardly a whisper. “Can’t you hear them out there?”

  The park ranger threw his rifle over his shoulder and moved into the center of the room. “My name is Merwin. If you couldn’t tell from my uniform, I work in these here woods.” He pointed at the woman lying on the floor. “That there’s Abigail. She and her husband were hiking when I picked them up. We were attacked by those things outside. They dismantled my Jeep, and we ran like hell. You guys know the rest.”

  “Her husband?” the fallen twin asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

  Merwin studied his shoes. He shook his head. It was all the answer he needed to give.

  “What are they?” Mark didn’t seem to give two shits about the woman or her husband. “I didn’t get a good look at them, but I know they’re black and about the same size as rats. Is that what they are? Are rats trying to eat us?”

  “I’ve never seen any rats that move like that,” Frosh answered.

  “I wasn’t asking you, pledge.”

  “Oh, fuck you, Mark.”

  “What’s that, homo? Did you say something?” Mark stepped toward Frosh, puffing out his chest like some male bird displaying himself, all pomp and no stomp. The knife in his hand must have fooled him into thinking he was tough.

  “Leeches… I think,” Merwin said, keeping the peace by ignoring the escalating tension. “Maybe.”

  “That’s bullshit.” Mark stepped up to Merwin. He put his finger in the older gentleman’s face. “I’ve seen leeches before. They don’t grow that big, and they don’t fucking chase people through the woods.”

  Merwin remained calm. “You’re not wrong. Truth is, I have no idea what they are. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like them.”

  Dakota’s gaze fell upon Merwin’s rifle. Jagged, splintering wood marked the end of its stock where its butt used to be. “What happened to your gun?”

  “One of those things came at me, and I swung at it. I thought I could hit the little shit right out of the park, literally. But he clung to the butt of my rifle and chewed right through it.”

  “If they can do that, why haven’t they shredded through this place yet?”

  Merwin shrugged. “Good question.”

  His gaze fell on Tyler. His careful scrutiny suggested more than mere curiosity. He looked as though he was trying to place Tyler. Or maybe he was just wondering who had caused the young man’s wounds.

  Eventually, Merwin’s stare settled on the handcuffs around Tyler’s wrists. He didn’t ask why he wore them or who had put them on him. He just acknowledged them and moved on, as if the cuffs were exactly where they should be.

  Merwin mumbled to himself as he took in the rest of the cabin. Dakota’s supplies were splayed out across the floor. Most of her tools were so old and rusty that they could have easily been mistaken as some of the shack’s accoutrements, but the people assembled there, bloodied and beaten, could not be mistaken for average campers.

  From Bo’s nostrils and the top half of his shirt, dry blood flaked like dandruff and fell to the floor each time he moved. The other twin, finally sitting up, rubbed at the inch-thick rope burn around his neck. Tyler acted as if his wounds caused him no pain, but every now and then, a grimace would reveal the truth. The night hadn’t gone as Dakota had planned, but at least there were those small consolations.

  She glared at Mark. His violence had not yet been repaid. She could never forget what he had done. Had he followed her there, expecting another go at it? She’d sooner die, but she’d rather see him dead first.

  Merwin cleared his throat. “I don’t know what kind of party you fellas were throwing. And I don’t much care. Whatever bullshit you were up to needs to be put on hold until we can figure a way out of this mess.”

  “Easy for you to say, old man,” Dakota mumbled.

  Tyler chuckled.

  “Who put you in charge?” Mark asked, moving to within inches of the bone-thin ranger. Everything seemed to threaten the boy’s manhood.

  Probably because his manhood is as small as the rest of him.

  Merwin didn’t so much as flinch. “I know these woods better than any of you, and I know the way out of them blindfolded. Listen to me or don’t; I don’t really care. One way or another, I’m going to find help for that woman over there. She’s my responsibility. The rest of you can do whatever the hell you want. But if you get in my way, I will put you down. Am I clear, son?”

  Mark stared at Merwin. His face reddened, and his eyebrows slanted inward. After a moment, he backed off.

  “Yeah, if you know so much about these woods,” Bo said, the words muffled by blood-clotted nasal cavities and the shirt over his mouth, “how come you don’t know anything about those things outside?”

  Tyler came to the ranger’s aid. “Those things, dipshit, are not his fault.”

  Bo started toward Tyler, but Mark threw out his arm to block his path. “Not now.”

  “What?” Bo stopped at his leader’s command. “When, then? When do I get to break his nose?”

  “We’ll deal with it later,” Mark hissed. Bo, a man who looked as though he could palm Mark’s head like a basketball and toss him just as easily, retreated like a scolded child.

  Everyone quieted. They faced Merwin. A leader had been chosen.

  “Would someone like to take the handcuffs off this guy?” Merwin nodded his head toward Tyler.

  He seemed surprised when Dakota stepped forward. She let out a breath, pausing before reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a small metal key. Should she let Tyler free or swallow the damn key? Months of waiting had finally given her this opportunity. How could she be sure she’d ever have another chance?

  Dakota debated with herself, but in the end, she decided Merwin was right. The good of the few innocents present was more important than her need for revenge, no matter how close she had been to obtaining it. She approached Tyler. He put out his hands, but he didn’t smile or gloat. Instead, he seemed worried.

  You should be worried, you son of a bitch. I have several more knives with your name on them.

  “Don’t think what you did back there changes anything,” she whispered into his ear. Without an ounce of delicacy, she removed the cuffs, reveling as he winced.

  She looked down at his wrists. Dead white skin jutted like malformed teeth from raw pink flesh. Too small a price for what you did.

  “My back!” Abigail cried. Dakota whipped around. The woman’s eyes were wide open. “My back! It’s on fire!”

  Abigail leapt to her feet. She had gone from unconscious to stark raving mad in a matter of seconds, screaming and sweating.

  All eyes were on her. She stared back, her confusion and fear displayed on her face.

  She ripped off her vest and clawed at her back. “It’s still on me!” she shouted. Spit flew from her mouth. Her arms flailed, trying to remove what wasn’t there. “Get it off! Please. It hurts. Oh God, it hurts!”

  Her fingers tangled into Frosh’s shirt. She stretched it at the collar. Frosh didn’t fight her.

  “Please! Don’t just stand there. Why are you all just standing there?” Abigail howled. “Help me. Get it off me!”

  The walls themselves seemed to move. Hissing and gurgling echoed into the cabin.

  “Will somebody shut her the fuck up?” Mark’s face twisted into a scowl. No one moved. “Fine.” He huffed as though all the world’s burdens were up to him alone to fix. “I’ll do it.”

  He walked toward Abigail.

 
; “She’s just scared and in pain.” Frosh stepped between them. Mark glared at the younger boy, his eyes shooting bullets. Frosh did not stand down. Instead, he dismissed Mark with a look of disgust and turned to help Abigail.

  Mark pushed him. Before Frosh could turn and defend himself, Mark raised his arms to push him again.

  Tyler pushed Mark first. It wasn’t a hard push, but it was hard enough to get his point across. Dakota read the message clearly: You fuck with Frosh, you fuck with Tyler. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  At some point in her frenzy, Abigail had ripped her shirt off. Dakota picked it off the ground and helped Frosh get Abigail’s hysterics under control. The woman danced around in her bra and jeans, insisting that one of those creatures was tearing apart her back. She spun, and Dakota caught a full view of the cause of Abigail’s distress.

  To the right of her spine, midway down her back, two rows of what Dakota could only describe as holes ran down to her waistline. They oozed a slimy black fluid. The skin around each puncture was black as well, like the charred remains of a fire. Bluish-black striations, like tiny rivers with infinite branches, coursed from the wounds.

  Dakota had thought she had a strong stomach—it had held up as she did things she had only previously imagined herself doing—but seeing those wounds was trying her guts. She refused to cover her mouth, not wanting to show her enemies her weakness.

  Even so, something about the way those gaping dime-sized holes bubbled out their viscous black bile struck her as perverse, maybe even unholy. The smell that wafted from them, like that of a burst anal cyst, antagonized a stomach verging on eruption.

  Most of the others kept their distance. Mark had withdrawn and now stood with the twins. Tyler ground his teeth, his face pale. Even Merwin covered his nose.

  But not Frosh. The skinny little kid put them all to shame. He took Abigail in his arms and gave shelter to her shivering body. He showed no sign of fear, no hint of revulsion.

  “It’s off,” he said softly as though trying to dissuade a snarling dog from biting. “You’re hurt bad. You have some nasty wounds on your back, and that’s probably what you’re feeling. But whatever was on you, it’s gone now. I promise you that.”