with her. “Don’t look back! Just run!”
They reach the vent quickly.
“Get back down into the office!” Greer tells her. “I’m right behind you!”
Kit climbs in and is gone.
Although she knows she shouldn’t, something forces Greer to look back over her shoulder. Having just leapt from the lower roof to this one in a single bound, the man in the duster lands on the edge of the roof in a crouch, head bowed. He rises to his feet.
Everything in her being screams for her to follow Kit into that vent. But she cannot move.
He slowly raises his head. She still cannot make out his eyes.
Come to me, little lamb, as you know you want to. As you know you must. I can set you free of this world and all its horrors. Come to me, Greer. Come.
She grips the knife at her side. “How do you know my name?”
You told me your name in your dreams…your nightmares. Don’t you remember, little lamb?
He pulls open the duster, holding it apart like great leather wings extended out on either side of him. And inside, things move and writhe and whip about, slimy appendages and bloody tentacles. Dark things drop free of him and scurry through the snow, rushing toward her in waves like a living blanket as his rumbling laughter cuts the night.
I can smell the blood running through you, lamb. I can taste it.
Greer turns and vaults into the vent, sliding down on her stomach into the darkness, only cognizant seconds later that something has followed her into the shaft. Several things. Small and fast and closing on her even as she crawls toward what she can only hope is at least temporary safety.
She is only a few feet into the shaft when she hears squeaking noises behind her, along with a ticking sound similar to fingers tapping a keyboard. Scrambling through the dark shaft, she tries desperately to remember where she put the Zippo. As she drops down into the final length of vent, she remembers and manages to pry it from her jeans pocket. Flipping it open, she flicks it on and the tunnel is illuminated enough for her to see that Kit is already gone and most likely safe in the office with the others.
Greer continues on fast as she can, twisting and turning until she is on her back and sliding. She lifts her head, and with the aid of the flame is able to see what has followed her into the shaft.
The largest rats she has ever seen, sneering at her with their pointed teeth and glowing eyes. A wave of the creatures pour through the shaft, so many she cannot tell where one creatures ends and the other begins, all of them swarming over her even as she kicks and screams and stabs at them with the lighter.
She continues desperately backing down the shaft as they bite and claw at her, gnawing at her hands and neck and face, tearing free chunks of her flesh in agonizing bloody sprays, her screams echoing like thunder along the metal walls surrounding her. She drops the lighter, the flame is extinguished, and in darkness, she covers her eyes in the hopes of protecting them.
Sliding along, she feels their claws on her throat, their whiskers tickling her fingers, their teeth nibbling her knuckles, eating their way through her hands to her eyes. Fear has become unthinkable terror so profound her body and mind can no longer process it, and Greer feels herself starting to shut down.
But then, through the blood and darkness and excruciating pain, she sees a faint bit of flickering light. The candle on the front desk , her shattered mind tells her. I’m almost there.
* * * *
“Keep an eye on the front,” Doc orders, hoisting the shotgun up in one hand and reaching for the vent with the other to help guide the small young woman down.
Luke stands before the door, watches the night.
Kit Piper is disheveled, soaking wet, freezing and terrified, but appears to be physically unharmed. “It’s all right,” Doc tells her, taking her hand as she drops down onto the front desk and then to the floor.
Screams follow from deep inside the shaft, and
They reach the vent quickly.
“Get back down into the office!” Greer tells her. “I’m right behind you!”
Kit climbs in and is gone.
Although she knows she shouldn’t, something forces Greer to look back over her shoulder. Having just leapt from the lower roof to this one in a single bound, the man in the duster lands on the edge of the roof in a crouch, head bowed. He rises to his feet.
Everything in her being screams for her to follow Kit into that vent. But she cannot move.
He slowly raises his head. She still cannot make out his eyes.
Come to me, little lamb, as you know you want to. As you know you must. I can set you free of this world and all its horrors. Come to me, Greer. Come.
She grips the knife at her side. “How do you know my name?”
You told me your name in your dreams…your nightmares. Don’t you remember, little lamb?
He pulls open the duster, holding it apart like great leather wings extended out on either side of him. And inside, things move and writhe and whip about, slimy appendages and bloody tentacles. Dark things drop free of him and scurry through the snow, rushing toward her in waves like a living blanket as his rumbling laughter cuts the night.
I can smell the blood running through you, lamb. I can taste it.
Greer turns and vaults into the vent, sliding down on her stomach into the darkness, only cognizant seconds later that something has followed her into the shaft. Several things. Small and fast and closing on her even as she crawls toward what she can only hope is at least temporary safety.
She is only a few feet into the shaft when she hears squeaking noises behind her, along with a ticking sound similar to fingers tapping a keyboard. Scrambling through the dark shaft, she tries desperately to remember where she put the Zippo. As she drops down into the final length of vent, she remembers and manages to pry it from her jeans pocket. Flipping it open, she flicks it on and the tunnel is illuminated enough for her to see that Kit is already gone and most likely safe in the office with the others.
Greer continues on fast as she can, twisting and turning until she is on her back and sliding. She lifts her head, and with the aid of the flame is able to see what has followed her into the shaft.
The largest rats she has ever seen, sneering at her with their pointed teeth and glowing eyes. A wave of the creatures pour through the shaft, so many she cannot tell where one creatures ends and the other begins, all of them swarming over her even as she kicks and screams and stabs at them with the lighter.
She continues desperately backing down the shaft as they bite and claw at her, gnawing at her hands and neck and face, tearing free chunks of her flesh in agonizing bloody sprays, her screams echoing like thunder along the metal walls surrounding her. She drops the lighter, the flame is extinguished, and in darkness, she covers her eyes in the hopes of protecting them.
Sliding along, she feels their claws on her throat, their whiskers tickling her fingers, their teeth nibbling her knuckles, eating their way through her hands to her eyes. Fear has become unthinkable terror so profound her body and mind can no longer process it, and Greer feels herself starting to shut down.
But then, through the blood and darkness and excruciating pain, she sees a faint bit of flickering light. The candle on the front desk , her shattered mind tells her. I’m almost there.
* * * *
“Keep an eye on the front,” Doc orders, hoisting the shotgun up in one hand and reaching for the vent with the other to help guide the small young woman down.
Luke stands before the door, watches the night.
Kit Piper is disheveled, soaking wet, freezing and terrified, but appears to be physically unharmed. “It’s all right,” Doc tells her, taking her hand as she drops down onto the front desk and then to the floor.
Screams follow from deep inside the shaft, and
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