Numb fatigue was radiating through Mary’s body as she pushed forward. The rain was slowing, but it still bore deep into her bones, freezing her limbs and fogging her mind. Rose had been able to run on her own after descending the cliff, though she was still in pain from their fight. As they had dashed toward the road, Rose had slipped and fallen into the mud. Mary had flinched when she heard the girl’s head hit the moist ground. When the girl had lifted her head, blood was gushing from her nose. With a single, swift movement Mary had scooped her into her arms and held her close. Rose did not even fight the gesture; she wrapped her arms around Mary and held her close while she rushed through the woods.

The rifle was in Mary’s other hand, the metal slick against her palm from rainwater. She had almost dropped it half-a-dozen times, and she had thought about leaving it behind half-a-dozen more. Yet, something in the back of her mind kept telling her she would need it. Having it was better than needing it and not having it, she surmised.

Her wounds were pulsing, and she was acutely aware of the white-hot heat in her legs where the knife had pierced her flesh. Anguish lanced up her calves, through her knees, and connected with her heart with every step. She didn’t have time to acknowledge her pain, though. She didn’t have time for anything other than running as fast as she could, keeping her eyes out for the hunched over, drenched figures that were her children and Luis.

God I miss them.

She couldn’t wait to get back to her kids. She couldn’t wait to see her son, to hug her daughter, to see the sun and to forget the cold bite of rain. Most of all, she couldn’t wait to climb into a warm bed and pull the covers up to her chin. To cry alone as she looked at the empty space next to her.

To her surprise, a shadow appeared in the distance.

Long spindly arms and a thin body came into view, shrouded by darkness and glistening with rain. Urgent fear paralyzed her heart and slowed her feet.

It moved with odd grace and stayed silent as its red eyes scanned the forest, but Mary could hear it sniffing. Even though the monster was still at least twenty feet away uphill, she could clearly hear the blood-chilling sound as clear as day. She closed her eyes and prayed that the rain was masking their scents, that it would not be able to locate the blood on Rose’s face.

The creature made one final stare through the darkened woods before walking backward. It was then that Mary noticed a smaller shadow on the ground. A shadow that looked human: she could make out the curve of a nose and a sharp chin pointed up toward the sky.

She did not move. Rose’s small hands clenched the soaked back of her dress even tighter.

Mary’s stomach lurched as she heard the distinct sound of messy eating. The monster had buried its head in the shadowy body and was using its sharp claws to rip through the flesh. Crunching bone and meaty tearing filled her ears. She held back bile as a thick, ripping sound echoed in the air. It held an arm aloft, an arm it had ripped from the body, staring at it. The fingers dangled limply in the rain. Then, it continued to eat.

Another crackling sound filled the forest. Mary looked at the ground. Terror was mingling with nausea in her stomach. To her shock, a round ball came tumbling down the small hill toward her.

A decapitated head.

She didn’t want to look. She didn’t know why, but her mind was begging, telling her not to look, not to investigate, to just stay still and hold Rose and wait for the monster to pass. It was only going to be a few more moments – it had to be.

Mary looked up, and her eyes locked with the empty, bloody sockets of the head.

Of her son’s head.

Her soul broke as she registered what remained of John’s face. His mouth had been ripped apart. Bone was visible through the flesh, and his lips had been ripped away baring his teeth. The hair on his head remained untouched, but his cheeks had been slashed and torn.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to fight. She wanted to do everything and nothing all at once. She wanted to turn back time, to keep her children safe.

Where is Luis?

Is he dead, too?

Her thoughts were dispersed when a gunshot crackled through the air, far off in the distance. The creature perked up its head, turning in the direction of the sudden sound. With eerie agility, it left her son’s corpse behind and dashed forward, unleashing a shrill cry.

Horror flooded her heart.

Emma.

It had to be her and Luis. Who else was out in these woods?

Without allowing despair to keep her rooted to the ground, Mary followed the being, running as fast as her tired legs would carry her. Her heart ached, and Rose was clutching to her dress with tiny fists, with fear.

I’m coming, Emma.

Please hold on.

Next Chapter: Emma