Brett screamed.
Something was wrong with Stephanie’s face. He saw it as she slid down to the floor. Her features were mashed together. Her eyes and nose and mouth—they were too close. Her lips—lips he’d kissed just an hour ago—were smashed almost beyond the point of recognition. Her head wasn’t round anymore. Instead, it looked like a deflated basketball. The top of it was split open, and inside that red chasm was something that looked like curds of jellied lasagna.
Her brains, Brett thought. Oh, Jesus, that’s her brains.
Brett winced as the bile rose in the back of his throat. It burned. He glanced up at the killer.
The killer laughed a third time—hoarse and booming.
In that instant, Brett fell back on what he knew best—logic. This was nothing more than a puzzle. A real-life video game. All he had to do to survive was figure it out. As their attacker raised his bloody weapon, Brett ran through the possibilities. Then he did the last thing he hoped the monstrosity would expect—he raced right past it and flung himself into the room from which it had emerged. The man-thing roared, clearly enraged.
Even as he wept, Brett couldn’t help smiling.
Weren’t ready for that, were you, fucker?
He ran, charging across the room. Ahead of him was another door. It led deeper into the house. Brett dashed through it without hesitation, plunging into the darkness, heedless of where it might lead.
His pursuer’s feet plodded along behind him, shaking the wooden floor.
Somewhere beyond the walls, perhaps in another room, Kerri started screaming, her voice broken and shrill.
Brett knew just exactly how she felt.
FOUR
Kerri’s world had shattered before her eyes. Tyler was dead. Stephanie was dead.
Shit happens . . .
Stephanie had been her best friend since kindergarten. They’d gone to the same classes at St. Mary’s Catholic School from first grade through seventh, at which point they’d both switched to public school. They’d studied together. Grown up together.
Kerri’s breath caught in her throat as Javier urged her along through the darkness. Although their vision had adjusted, their only source of light was Javier’s cell phone, which he held open. Her hands were shaking too much to hold her cigarette lighter. Kerri heard Javier’s nose whistling as he breathed. She tried to speak, tried to tell him to slow down, to ask him if he’d called 911, but she couldn’t find her voice. Kerri shuffled forward a few more steps and stopped. She felt dizzy all of the sudden. There was pressure building behind her eyes.
She closed them, hoping the pain would go away.
Maybe Steph wasn’t dead. Maybe she was still alive back there. After all, she and Javier had been fleeing. Maybe what she thought she saw happen hadn’t actually occurred.
Kerri heard the sound again. That awful noise the hammerhad made when it . . .
Tyler and Steph . . .
Steph and Tyler . . .
They were definitely both dead. And she’d done nothing to help them. Instead, she’d run away. How was that possible?
Tyler had taken Kerri’s virginity. Steph was the one who listened to all the details afterward, just like she had when Steph lost her virginity under less pleasant circumstances a few years earlier. Steph was her sister in every way that mattered and now she was dead.
Tyler wasn’t just her boyfriend. He’d been her world. Yes, things had been difficult lately. They’d been fighting a lot. Fed up with his immaturity, she’d been thinking about leaving him. But all the arguments and annoyance—those things just proved how much they’d really loved each other. You didn’t fight with somebody if you didn’t care about them. And now he was gone. Dead. Lying on the floor at the front of the house, cooling and coalescing, his blood mingling with Steph’s.
The pressure in her head boiled over. Kerri opened her eyes and screamed. It was a deep, raw, throat-stripping shriek that seemed to go on forever—
—until Javier clamped his hand over her mouth and pressed tight.
“Stop it,” he whispered. “Just stop.”
She struggled against him, and his grip tightened. Kerri felt her snot running between his fingers. She tried to talk, tried to tell him that they had to go back for Tyler and Steph, but he stared into her eyes, unblinking, and shook his head.
“I know. I know. I’m feeling it, too. But we’ve got to keep going. Got to find Heather and the others, and then get out of here. You keep screaming and that fucking thing will find us first. Now, stop it. Okay?”
His long-fingered, almost feminine hand remained on her mouth, but the pressure decreased. His eyes glittered in the open cell phone’s dim light.
Kerri blinked.
Javier removed his hand and she sobbed. He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her again.
“No. Not here. Not anymore. We have to leave here.”
After a moment, Kerri nodded. Javier removed his finger. She regretted it almost immediately. His touch—that tiny bit of human contact—had been reassuring. Now panic and grief threatened to overwhelm her once more. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Did you call someone?”
“I can’t get any bars in here. Old place like this? Probably asbestos in the walls or some shit.”
Kerri frowned. Could asbestos block cell phone coverage? She didn’t know.
“What now?” she asked.
“We sit a minute and listen. I think it went after Brett and Stephanie.”
“Steph’s . . . it got her.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw it as we were running away. It . . . that thing smashed her head with the hammer.”
“What about Brett?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shit.” Javier took a deep breath and paused. “We need to find Heather. Then we find a way out.”
“What about Brett? And we can’t just leave Tyler’s and Stephanie’s bodies behind.”
“We’re not going to do them much good if we’re dead.”
He beckoned her to follow him, and crawled behind an old couch that had been covered with a filthy, moldy tarp. Kerri crawled along behind him. They sat there, huddled together in the darkness, and waited. They heard no sound, save their own breathing. Kerri glanced around the room, trying to discern their surroundings. She couldn’t see much. The shadows were too thick. Maybe it had been a living room at one time, but now it was a junk heap. The very atmosphere seemed full of the same despair she felt inside. Garbage lay strewn across the dirty wooden floor—empty cans, broken bottles, shattered drug vials, a shriveled condom. She wondered what had happened to the people who’d left the trash there. Had they been slaughtered, just like Tyler and Steph? In addition to the sofa they were hiding behind, there were a few other pieces of broken furniture in the room. She could make out their shapes, sitting beneath tarps in the gloom. Above her, a cracked, smudged mirror hung askew. The nail it was hanging from was slowly working its way out of the plaster. Kerri considered that they were lucky their passage through the room hadn’t caused it to crash to the floor, alerting their pursuer to their location.
She pulled out her lighter and flicked it. The small flame did little to dispel the gloom, but it made her feel better.
They spotted a few bloody footprints on the floor, but there were less of them now. Kerri assumed that Heather’s wound had started to clot.
Javier held the phone up to his face and squinted at the display. Kerri stared at him, hoping to see a positive expression. Instead, he merely frowned and shook his head.
She looked up again and caught her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her blue eyes were nearly perfectly round and the freckles on her face stood out in the faint cell phone glow and lighter flame like black spatters of paint. There were dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there an hour before.