LAST RESORT Part 26

SCENARIO 4 3:55 AM 3 Hours Until Dawn 5 Delvers remaining…

"Sheila? Are you still in there?" Kate called out into the room.

She and Kevin stopped at the threshold of the master bedroom; Kevin pushed the door open. The first thing they heard was the running water from the bathroom.

"Sheila?" Kate called out again for her sister.

Again, no answer.

Just the sound of the muffled hiss of the faucet and the shower behind the closed entryway. Feeling like something was wrong, Kevin crossed the room with Kate following closely behind. He reached the bathroom door and rattled the handle. Locked.

"Hey, Sheila, open up," he said, slamming his palm against the door. Nothing. Something's wrong," he said to Kate.

Kate pressed her ear to the door. "I only hear the shower," she whispered, then heard a soft moan. "Oh, God—Kevin, I think I can hear her in there."

He took a step back, and gestured for Kate to move out of the way. "Move."

Then he kicked at the door. Once. Twice. The third hit splintered the frame and the door burst inward, sending a hot gust of steam rolling out into the bedroom. The air stung their faces. The mirror dripped with condensation, and the light overhead flickered for a moment as they entered. Through the haze, they saw Sheila slumped in the bathtub. The water was still running at full blast, boiling steam whistling like some infernal kettle within the rattling pipes.

"Holy fuck!" Kevin rushed forward, grabbed her under the arms, and lifted.

The water was hot—too fucking hot. He reeled his arms back with a shocked yelp, but knew he needed to get his girlfriend out of the tub quickly before she suffered severe second-degree burns. Bracing himself, he shoved his arms and half of his body under the scalding water and grabbed Sheila, never mind that her skin was slippery and clammy, some boiling with puss from the hot water, and he almost lost his grip on her, which caused her to topple over the side of the slick tub. Kevin reached out and grabbed her head before it slammed onto the floor tiles.

"Kate! Help me!" Kevin screamed.

Kate could see the bubbling red marks already forming on Sheila's neck and face. "What the fuck, Sheila?!" Kate screeched, fumbling for the shower handle and successfully shut off the water.

Together they pulled her out, her limbs limp and heavy, her soaked hair plastered across her face. Water poured off her in sheets as Kevin carried her to the nearest bed. Her head lolled back, her lips pale, eyes half-open but unfocused. Steam still clung to her like a shroud.

"Sheila, hey—hey! Come on, baby, wake up, wake up!" Kevin said, his voice cracking, his hands shaking as he pressed down on her chest.

Kate knelt beside the bed, tears streaking through the sweat on her face. "She's not breathing, Kevin."

"Don't say that."

He kept pressing, his hands thudding against her sternum. One, two, three. The sound filled the room, desperate and futile. Then, Sheila let out a choking gasp; her body arched violently. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, nails tearing through the fabric.

"Sheila!" Kate shouted from fear, clutching her sister's arm. "Oh my God, I think she's having some kind of a seizure!"

Sheila's eyes shot open, bloodshot and wild. Her lips trembled. Steam rose from her skin as if her blood still boiled beneath it.

"Inside…" she croaked.

Kate leaned closer. "What? Tell me what's wrong. I'll try to fix it."

Sheila grabbed her sister's wrist and felt the strength in her grip was strong. It made Kate flinch. "You don't understand—" Her mouth contorted, her eyes rolling back. "It's—inside me—"

"What? What are you…?"

A tear fell down the corner of Sheila's eye. "Kate…run…"

"Tell me what's wrong. Please…"

Sheila shook her head. "Run…or I will feast on your soul."

Her back arched again, and a horrible sound tore from her throat, half scream, half an animalistic growl. Kate let go of her sister's arm and let out a shocked yelp. Then Sheila went still, limp in Kevin's arms.

Kate clapped a hand over her mouth. "No! What happened?"

Kevin pressed two fingers on Sheila's neck, feeling for that subtle pump of blood against her veins.

No pulse.

He looked up at Kate, his voice trembling. "She's gone, Kate."

"What? What do you mean?!"

"She's gone." Kevin pulled his hand back. "She's gone."

Downstairs, Sheila's final scream tore through the ceiling like a live wire snapping behind the walls, waking the entire cabin loose.

Vivian jerked upright on the couch. "What the hell was that?"

Lope froze. For a heartbeat, they both just froze there, waiting for the next shoe to drop, and staring up at the ceiling as if they could see through it. The house had gone still again. The only sound was the wind pressing against the windowpanes outside.

"That kinda came from upstairs," Vivian said, voice trembling. "You think something happened to Kate and Uncle Kevin? Or to Sheila? Did the wolves—"

"Shush."

They listened again. They heard Kevin and Kate's heavy footsteps crossing the bedroom's width as if they were dragging something.

Vivian took a step back. "The monsters are upstairs, aren't they?"

Lope didn't answer right away. His eyes darted toward the hallway. "Hold on, hold on." He motioned for her to stay put and reached for the shotgun leaning against the couch. "Why don't you stay in here and I'll go and check it out?"

"Like hell I will. After what we just saw in those tapes?"

He let out a grunt. "Ah, fine. But you'll stay behind me. You see something weird, you tell me right away, got it?"

"Got it."

They crept toward the hallway, the floorboards whining under their feet. The shadows pooled thicker out here. They still didn't want to turn on the lights just in case that would make them an easier target for the werewolves waiting outside.

Then came the BANG.

Both of them jumped. They turned just in time to see the cellar door lifted on its own and slam open, the force causing the frame to rattle. Cold, damp air spilled out across the room, smelling of wet soil and something else they couldn't identify.

"Jesus Christ, that almost gave me a heart attack." Lope clutched his chest. "Did that cellar just fucking open on its own?"

"So that wasn't just me then," Vivian said.

The door gaped wide open, the blackness as still as the night sea below it. It was like staring down the throat of some sleeping thing, waiting to be fed.

"Oh, no, don't you dare," Vivian hissed. "Don't you go down there. That's like Horror Movie 101."

But Lope wasn't listening. His curiosity, or his stupidity, had kicked in. "They might have gotten in downstairs. I'm just gonna take a peek."

"No, we should go upstairs and warn the others."

But Lope edged forward, raising the shotgun, his shoulders tight. The steps descended into the dim darkness. For half a second, Lope imagined eyes leering at him from the periphery.

"Um, yeah, I don't see anything," he said, squinting.

"Nothing at all?"

"It's just…"

He turned—

—and Jessica was standing right behind Vivian.

Vivian didn't even have time to scream as Jessica lunged for her back, grabbing the scruff of her shirt, her fingers latching around Vivian's throat, and slammed her into the wall so hard the drywall cracked behind her.

"Vivian!" Lope shouted, raising the shotgun.

Jessica's head snapped toward him. Her mouth split into an awful grin.

She twitched a hand.

"Too slow, fuck-face!" Jessica cackled.

The air punched Lope square in the chest and the world tilted. He was flying, spinning, weightless for a heartbeat. Then the wall came up hard and he hit it like a heavy sack of meat. The shotgun clattered away from his hand just as his head smacked plaster, knocking him out cold when he fell to the floor.

Jessica's cackle got louder and turned to Vivian. "Ahh, some alone time, at last. Let me smell you while your flesh is still suckle sweet." Demon leaned close to Vivian's face and took a big inhale through her hair. "I can't wait to wear your pretty hair."

Vivian whimpered. There was nowhere to run. No help. Only the wall and the pressing weight of that demonic hand wrapped around her throat.

And then she made a fist. Vivian planted her feet against the drywall, braced her legs, and shoved everything forward. Her knuckles hit Jessica high between the throat and jaw with a dry, wet crack. It punched into flesh and cartilage. Vivian's whole arm went through the motion, shoulder and back and the last of her breath behind it, and causing Jessica to let go of her neck.

Jessica doubled over, hands to her own throat, coughing violently. "Fuck! Fuck, that's a low blow, you stupid bitch! Not fair!"

Vivian tried to escape, but Jessica was still too fast. She recovered with mechanical speed and her fingers found Vivian's hair like steel traps and hauled the poor girl off the floor by the scalp of her hair, dragging her to the TV room.

Vivian was screaming now, flailing and clawing, her nails raking into Jessica's arms, but Jessica didn't even flinch, enjoying the rush of pain with a euphoric cackle. She turned her head toward the fireplace and grabbed the poker from the caddy.

"Pretty little thing," Jessica sang. Her voice wasn't her own—layered, doubled, tripled, like a hellish choir from the bottom of a well. "I bet you got some sweet little puss for this hot thang…" She raised the fire poker.

"Let go! Leave me alone!" Vivian sobbed.

Jessica giggled. "I'm gonna show you how bad girls like you gets it in Hell!"

The TV came to life again as they stumbled into the room. The screen flickered and showed Dave and Ashley Yates, laughing directly at the camera like a bunch of lunatics, not at each other, but at their daughter, who now lay crumpled and sobbing on the floor in front of the screen.

Jessica's grin widened until her cheeks cracked. "Oh, will you look at that?" she hissed, her voice dripping honey and venom. "Mommy and Daddy wanna see you get punished for being a fucking disappointment!"

Vivian raised her arms too late.

The first swing connected with a crunch. The poker bent slightly, red splattering the TV screen. Jessica laughed in a horrible, joyous sound, like a child tearing the limbs off a frog just to see how it dies.

"You unworthy, constipated little shit! You let your brother die, motherfucker! You can't even save him. You deserve this! You deserve this! YOU DESERVE THIS!"

The second hit came harder. Then another. And another. Each blow ticked her Resolve down to a light orange, getting darker, and darker, and darker….

"Stop! Stop!" Vivian begged, tears welling down her cheeks.

"YOU DESERVE THIS!"

Another hit right at her shoulder, drawing a red gash.

"Please…please…."

With a huff, Jessica dropped the fire poker and straddled Vivian by the abdomen. "Let me in, Vivian Yates. Let me in so you can be with your brother."

Vivian looked up at her. "Stop…I want you to stop…"

"You are not listening to me, sweetie. Do you want to be with your brother?"

Vivian paused.

"Join us, and you will. Forever."

Jessica opened her mouth and a torrent of dark oily blood erupted out of her throat, showering Vivian in bloody crimson, attempting to infect her with the demonic possession. The television's blue glow strobed the room in fractured light: laughter, violence, laughter again. Then the lamp toppled over, smacking an end table, which tipped over from the scuffle, and a picture frame skidded across the floor; the frame shattered beside Vivian's hand.

Vivian's fingers closed around it before she even thought about it.

Jessica loomed over her. "What do you say, sweetie?"

Vivian chuckled, adrenaline hammering behind her pulse. "I'd rather be dead."

She chucked the frame at her attacker's head.

It whistled through the air and almost smashed against Jessica's face, just missing her head by inches. Jessica ducked with an animal snarl, and that single second—just one—was all Vivian needed. The possession had failed, much to Jessica's amused surprise.

Vivian scrambled up, almost slipping on the puddle of blood, and saw the hatchet lying where she left it by the media cabinet. She grabbed it and swung, and the blade buried itself deep into Jessica's right calf with a meaty thunk. Demon shrieked, stumbling back, her voice breaking into a dozen overlapping demonic tones and cries. She clutched her leg, black ichor spilling out and hissing as it hit the carpet.

"Ahhh! I need this leg, you sick fuck!"

"Fuck. You!"

"As you fucking wish, bitch! Come here!"

Vivian didn't wait and started running. She bolted through the hallway, bare feet slapping the wood, blood trailing behind her like a comet tail. The kitchen door loomed ahead.

Behind her, Jessica's laughter rose again. She yanked the hatchet out of her leg with a scream that curdled the air. Blood splashed the floorboards, hot and dark. She looked at the wound like it amused her, almost proud that Vivian got good hit on her.

Jessica grinned. "Yay! This is getting so much fun!"

Then she limped after Vivian. Her boot heels slapped the floor. Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag. The hatchet hung loose in her grip, dripping a breadcrumb trail of blood behind her, mixing with Vivian's trail.

Kevin sat on the edge of the bed, his hand trembling as he pulled the sheet up over Sheila's body. It stuck to her a little from the blood. Dark patches that had already gone sticky, a faint iron smell leaking into the air. He leaned in and kissed Sheila's forehead through the sheet.

Kate stood near the dresser, arms wrapped around herself. "This doesn't make any sense. What happened to her?"

"I don't know," Kevin said. "But she didn't deserve this."

"Maybe it's the crash. Maybe it gave her a severe concussion? She was having a seizure."

Kevin merely gave a dejected shrug. He couldn't offer an answer while he's holding all the emotions at bay. "Don't blame yourself, Kate," he said. "This is not your fault."

But Kate didn't listen. "I should have known something was wrong with her, Kevin. I'm her older sister. I'm supposed to protect her! Maybe we should have kept going to the hospital."

A muffled scream and disparate shouts cut through the floorboards. Then a couple of heavy thumps. Something breaking. And a loud cackle.

Kevin's head snapped toward the door. "What the hell was that?"

He got up fast, the bed creaking under him. Kate followed a step behind as he reached for the door handle—

—and the sheet behind him moved.

It was small at first, just a twitch. Then another. The sound of fabric sliding over skin. Kate froze, eyes going wide as she pointed over Kevin's shoulder.

"Kev…" she whispered.

He turned back.

Sheila bolted upright.

The sheet slipped down her shoulders, her hair matted and wet, her head tilted at an odd angle, but her eyes had changed drastically; Gold burning with the color of candlelight.

"Jesus Christ…" Kevin breathed. "Sheila?"

Kate took a half-step back, shocked. "Kev, she's alive."

Kevin crossed the room again and knelt beside the bed like a man walking toward a miracle he's afraid to believe in, and that it would vanish in front of him just as quickly.

"Sheila, honey, hey—hey, you're okay. You're okay, baby. Thank God. You're okay."

She turned her head toward him, her mouth twitching as if she was trying to smile but had forgotten how. Kevin sat down beside her, reached out, and cupped her cheek. "Oh my God. I thought you were dead. Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Don't worry, babe. I love you. And I'm going to find a car so that we can get the hell—"

Her jaw snapped sideways.

There was a wet crunch, followed by a big spurt of red. Kevin screamed and reeled back, clutching his bleeding hand. His middle finger was gone, blood pumping between his knuckles. Sheila spat the finger onto the bedspread with a sound like a pit hitting the bottom of a bucket. Her lips glistened red, teeth clicking together as she grinned.

"Thanks, hot stuff. I'm all better now," Sheila said mockingly.

One moment she was sitting there, the next she was up to her feet; her limbs bent wrong, hands and feet finding the ceiling like a spider scuttling after prey. It was too fast to make sense of. Her head also twisted around too far, those golden eyes now fixed on Kate.

Kate stumbled backward, hitting the wall behind her. "Oh my God!"

Sheila's tongue snaked out, lapping at the blood that had dripped down her chin. "You gonna run for me, pussy lips?" Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Kate didn't move. Couldn't.

Sheila's grin widened. "Oh well. Too late."

She twirled around and landed on top of the mattress mid-crouch. Kevin screamed again, clutching his mangled hand, trying to crawl backward away from the demon, smearing blood across the floorboards. He tried to find his gun, but he placed it down on top of the dresser when he kicked the bathroom door earlier.

But as he looked to that direction, Kate was now holding it with shaking hands, aimed at Sheila.

"You're not Sheila," Kate said, voice trembling.

Sheila tilted her head, mock surprise on her face. "What gives it away? Is it my ghastly eyes?"

"What are you?"

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

That earned a laugh. "What am I?" She pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I'm the reason none of you are making it out of here alive."

"I think it's a demon or a ghost, Kate!" Kevin said. "She's possessed!"

Kate's grip tightened on the gun. "You get out of my sister right now!"

"Too bad, missy. I like wearing her flesh."

"Bring her back!"

"She's burning in Hell where she belongs, you stupid cunt! Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Kate fired.

The first shot hit Sheila in the chest, snapping her back. The next caught her in the shoulder, sending a burst of red across the headboard. Kate screamed and didn't stop shooting. Every pull of the trigger came with a thunderclap, shell casings dancing across the floor, smoke filling the room in choking bursts.

The last shot left the chamber with a hollow CLICK.

Sheila crumpled onto the bed, twitching, holes smoking through her shirt. For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then—

—Laughter.

Sheila pushed herself up. Her ribs cracked with the motion, one jutting out sharp through skin. "Oh, Katie, tsk, tsk, tsk…" she rasped, blood bubbling between her teeth. "What happened to the fucking power of sisterhood?"

Kate staggered back, the empty gun still raised like a flimsy shield.

"My turn." Sheila charged at her again.

Kevin tried to move, tried to help, but slipped, his shoulder and spine smacking the baseboard. Sheila whipped around and kicked him right in the stomach, causing him to skid across the floor and rolled into the bathroom.

"Kate!" he barked from inside, but the name came out strangled as he clutched at his bruised stomach. "Run!"

Kate bolted as Sheila tore after her. Kate hit the hallway and tried to turn, but Sheila grabbed her from behind. They both went sprawling, momentum carrying them straight into the banister. The old railing groaned once and snapped like a bone.

They tumbled over the barrier.

For one disjointed second, Kate saw the room below them spinning—the living room's cold hearth, the broken table, Lope lying motionless on the floor. Then gravity took over.

The impact blew the air out of her lungs. She landed hard beside Lope, her shoulder screaming in pain. The shotgun lay near his limp hand, just out of reach. Somewhere in the house, another fight was happening: pots clanging, a woman's shriek, the whir of a struggle coming from the kitchen.

Kate rolled with a painful gasp, stretching her arm, fingers brushing the cold barrel of the shotgun.

But Sheila was already up, her smile wider than before.

Kate grabbed the shotgun, swung it—

—but Sheila caught her arm mid-motion, claws digging into her flesh as she wrenched her down. They crashed together, rolling across the floor, not realizing they were both heading toward the open cellar door.

For one breathless instant, both of them hung there, half over the dark, open maw below, struggling to control who gets to hold the weapon.

Then Kate tipped over to the side as she straddled her sister's hip, trying to gain an advantage.

Big mistake.

That was enough leverage for Sheila to bend her knees, planted a foot to the floor, and pushed Kate over, but not enough space to save herself from the fall.

The world became a cloud of splinters, screaming, the thunder of bodies bouncing off wood, and their shapes hitting the bottom of the cellar in a tangled heap.

Vivian hit the kitchen floor running. Her foot slid across the tile and she nearly went down, catching herself on the counter. Her eyes darted toward the sink, counter, stovetops, knives.

There!

She ripped one blade from the magnetic strip, a long chef's knife that gleamed wet in the light, her eyes reflecting through its surface. She spun when she heard a noise behind her, back pressed to the counter, chest heaving with horror.

Then Jessica's shadow limped into view, and then her face peeked through the entryway, grinning mad. Her leg was still bleeding down to her ankle, black and syrup-thick.

Vivian raised the knife. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

Jessica wiped a stray hair in front of her face. "Nowhere left to run, sweetheart. Whatcha gonna do? Carve me up like a Thanksgiving turkey?"

Vivian swung. Wild, desperate. The knife whistled past Jessica's face. A second swipe, tighter, aiming for her chest. However, even with an injured leg, Jessica still moved with lightning speed, dodging right, then left, laughing the whole time, and taunting Vivian's attacks.

Vivian lunged again, aiming for the demon's throat, but Jessica caught her by the wrist, spun her. Vivian's head hit the edge of the kitchen island with a crack and the world went white, but it didn't knock her unconscious. But Jessica managed to rip the blade from her hand.

Vivian stumbled back, dazed. She tried to speak but it came out in a slurry of jumbled words. Jessica shoved her hard and the poor girl hit the dining table, chest-first, the wind escaped her lungs in a single pitiful grunt.

Then Jessica grabbed Vivian's wrist, slammed her hand down flat on the table, palm splayed wide. Vivian saw the knife rise over Jessica's head. She kicked, jerked, screamed, but none of it mattered. Jessica's hold on her was too strong.

The blade came down.

Steel met meat with a dull, wet thwack. The pain was instant and blinding, seizing Vivian's mind. It ran up her arm like lightning, bursting behind her eyes. Vivian screamed, a sound that almost shredded her own throat. Blood welled up between her fingers and pooled beneath her hand as the blade pinned her down to the wooden surface.

Jessica left the knife there, leaned down, close enough for Vivian to feel her breath on her ear. "That's just step one!"

Vivian sobbed. "Please—please don't—"

Jessica reached behind her waistband and pulled out the hatchet. The same one Vivian had buried in her leg. She twirled it once in the air, admiring the shine of the edge.

"Now, now, don't cry. Since you won't let me in, I'm wondering where I should start." She pressed the flat of the hatchet against Vivian's cheek, dragging it slowly up toward her ear. The metal left a streak of her own blood in its wake. "Maybe we'll make it quick. Or maybe I'll feed your pretty little head to your brother."

She set the blade against the nape of Vivian's neck, so gentle it almost tickled her.

Vivian whimpered, jerking under the weight of it, but she couldn't move much; her hand was still nailed to the table. Demon Jessica watched as her Resolve ticked to a darker orange.

"Almost there, girl. Almost there. Yes…give yourself to your fear," Jessica said with salivating glee. "How about we play a little game, hmm? I count to three, and if you don't stop shaking or whimpering, I don't chop off your head. Sounds fair?"

Vivian shook her head. Tears, snot, blood. She could barely breathe through it.

"Okay. Here we go! One…"

Jessica raised the hatchet high over her head.

"Little pretty two…"

Jessica's grip on the girl's shoulders tightened. "Two-and-a-pretty-half…almost there!"

Then Vivian's Resolve plunged to red.

Jessica tilted her head, letting her tongue flick out across her lips.

"And a pretty three!"

A resounding CRACK split across the room.

The sound was loud—baseball bat meeting bone, and the blow landed at the side of her temples. Jessica's body jerked forward, the hatchet clattering from her grip, almost hitting the girl when it landed next to Vivian's face. Vivian let out a scream, knowing she was only a couple of inches away from severing her own nose. Jessica stumbled, snarling, eyes flashing gold with rage at her attacker.

Lope stood behind her, the veins on his arms taut as cables, holding the baseball bat that Kate had left behind in the TV room. He swung again. The second hit crushed the back of her skull with a wet, meaty thud. Blood sprayed across the counter, across the refrigerator, across his face.

Jessica turned, half her head sagging, black ichor pooling down her cheek. "You motherfu—," she gurgled from the blood. "I'm gonna get you—"

Lope let out a battle cry. A full-throated, animalistic rapture. And he didn't stop swinging. The third hit broke the demon's jaw. The fourth sent her crashing into the cabinets, tiles cracking under her head. The fifth… and sixth… were just pure rage and terror amalgamating into physical form—each blow splitting open more of her skull until her face wasn't a face anymore, just a mess of pulp and shattered bone shards. Blood misted the air, sticky and hot, clinging to his clothes and across the tile floor. Vivian was crying, still pinned by the knife through her hand, too afraid to move, too shocked to scream anymore.

[ You have gained 2 essences: Jessica Satcher ]

[ You have gained 300 crystals ]

Lope stood there panting, bat dripping with blood. Jessica's body twitched once, and he brought the bat down one final time, just to be sure.

He knew that the number one rule in killing monsters, you gotta make sure that they stay fucking dead.

While Vivian and Jessica were fighting upstairs, Kate came to her senses with the taste of dirt and copper in her mouth. Her ears rang like church bells after the fall. Everything hurt. Her shoulder screamed when she moved it, and her head throbbed with that deep, nauseous pulse that only comes from a likely concussion.

Kate rolled onto her side, fighting through the ache in her shoulder, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She forced herself up onto her knees and scanned the cellar. Broken shelves. Old furniture draped in sheets. A pile of tools not far from where she was. And there, just a few feet away, was the shotgun, which ended up skidding under an old table.

But where's Sheila? She wondered.

She crawled to the weapon, fingers scraping along the concrete until they closed around the stock. She aimed the gun wildly into the darkness.

Then came the laugh.

It echoed from somewhere in the dark, bouncing off the stone walls until it was everywhere. It was hard to gauge where the laugh came from. But she knew who that laugh belonged to.

"Looking for me, Katie?" Sheila's voice sang out, sweet and taunting.

Kate spun in place, the shotgun trembling in her hands. She slowly turned her head toward where she believed the sound was coming from. "Where are you?"

A giggle slithered through the dark again. "Warmer."

Kate took a step back.

"Colder."

Her breathing quickened, realized that Sheila was playing with her. Left with no other way to go, she backed toward the cellar stairs toward the others. She could still hear them moving up there, heard Lope screaming.

"Warmer."

"Stop this," she begged.

Another step forward.

"Warmer, warmer."

Kate spun, swinging the gun wildly, finger resting close to the trigger, her breath coming in ragged bursts. "I'm not fucking around, Sheila. Stop this. Bring my sister. You bring her back!"

Her ankles hit the bottom step of the cellar stairs, and she slowly made her way up. It sounded like the fighting upstairs had subsided.

"Warmer."

"Stop this!"

Kate was halfway up the stairs when she caught some movement below through the gaps of the stairs.

"Sheila, I don't wanna hurt you—"

That's when Sheila appeared just below her. "Piping hot!"

Sheila's hands clamped around Kate's ankles like vices through the gap. Kate shrieked, lost her balance and tumbling backward, and slammed her back against the railing before she continued falling back down to the cellar floor. The gun clattered out of her reach again. Sheila was on her before she could crawl or run away.

"Sheila…if you're in there…please. Come back!"

"You know what's funny, Kate?" Sheila laughed, her breath hot and rancid. She straddled Kate's chest and pinned her throat beneath both hands. "Your sister will never return to you. Hell's not just hot or excruciating. It's suffocatingly divine. Like this—" She squeezed harder, thumbs digging into Kate's windpipe. "—Like being crushed from the inside. Let me show you. It's a beautiful way to die."

Kate gagged, clawing at her sister's iron-like wrists. Her vision started to darken at the edges. The veins in Sheila's face bulged, teeth bared in gleeful malice, drooling with saliva that dripped into Kate's gasping mouth. Kate's hands flailed but found nothing but dirt, then she remembered something she saw in a move once or twice.

Desperate, Kate contorted her lower body up and forward, hooking both legs around Sheila's chest and neck. Quickly, she cinched the hold, and pulled her back with everything she had, using her body weight as leverage. Sheila's grip around her neck loosened enough for her to cough and take a shallow breath. Then she rocked back and forth to the side like a cradle. On the third rock, Sheila let out a startled yelp as she was tipped over; her shoulder slamming onto the ground, ultimately letting go of Kate's throat.

Kate scrambled to her feet, ignoring the burning sensation clawing around her neck. She kicked outward; her boot catching Sheila square in the jaw. There was a satisfying crack and a screech, and Kate ran toward the only door she could see up ahead and opened it.

"What the fuck is this place?"

Kate stumbled through the door, and found herself in the Selection Chamber. She immediately saw the marble pedestal, which sat dead center on a circular platform, holding a huge hourglass. The sand inside fell a steady hiss toward a large pile below, and there was only a small amount left at the top. She could still hear Sheila coming through the door behind her.

Kate backed toward the pedestal. There was only one other way out—a heavy wooden door carved with a forest scenery filled with snarling wolves, teeth bared against their prey, a cabin, and a full moon. Left with no more room, she ran toward the door and pulled the handle. A rush of cold air hit her as she ran inside, stumbling over when she didn't notice a rock protruding out of the ground fifteen feet in. She sprawled over the grass.

Wait, grass?

The first thing she saw was the blazing glow of a campfire, flickering at the center of a wide clearing. Around the fire were ten people. Kate's stomach twisted when she recognized their faces matching everyone else tonight.

Including her own.

But something was different.

Ray's body was smashed flat into a stringy pulp. Ribs snapped through skin like broken branches. His arm was bent backward at an impossible angle.

Daryl sat propped against a tree without a head, a wet stump that glistened in the firelight. On his lap was his own head, skin split as if claws had raked over it, dead eyes sunken into the sockets, lips pulled back from their teeth.

Suraj was a pile of shredded meat, his chest cavity hollowed out like a roasted turkey on Thanksgiving, ribs gleaming white through the gore.

Nina was torn in half, her spine showing where her torso ended, her arms frozen mid-crawl, like she'd still trying to get away when the wolves mauled her.

Xavier wasn't Xavier anymore. A shadowy shade hunched upright, his edges pulsing in bluish and purple light. His outline twitched like static, and for half a second she thought she saw his face inside it—half was a man Kate recognized, the other half contorted and fused into the face of a snarling wolf that had been hunting them the whole night.

And then she recognized Sheila.

She was sitting right next to Kate's wax-like doppelgänger. Her shape kept shifting; bones bending under the skin, sinews and muscle peeling and knitting again in slow motion. Her eyes burned gold, her mouth stretching wide enough to split her cheeks. Kate approached the figure, touched the hair that seemed so fucking real, and then looked at herself. The others. The entire surroundings. Kate wasn't sure if she was really outside or she was stuck in some VR room with ultra realistic graphics. Last she knew, she was underground, in the cellar.

"How did I ended up out here?" She wondered. It didn't make sense.

Only the figures of Vivian, Lope, Kevin, and herself remained somewhat normal.

"Keep it together," She muttered under her breath. She didn't want to wait around for an answer, weirded out by the wax-like figures of her likeness, and she quickly tried to find if there's another exit out of here. She looked at the night sky, and then peered into the darkness of the woods. "West," she said. "Let's take west."

But before she could venture forth past the illusory treeline, Sheila burst through the Wolf Door, screaming like a bloody maniac. Her bare feet slapped the dewy grass as she ran in, wielding a sharp hand rake. Kate barely had time to react, but managed to dodge Sheila's first swing.

Sheila lunged again for another kill, jabbing the weapon toward Kate's eyes. The metal teeth missed Kate's face by an inch. She ducked, felt the air split above her head, and rammed her shoulder into Sheila's ribs. Her grip on the rake loosened, and as Kate kneed her in the gut and shoved her off, it fell from her grasp, clattering not far from where they were.

Sheila scowled at her. "Ow! That wasn't nice!"

Demon swiftly raised her hand up, backhanded slap the woman hard, and Kate fell back and rolled across the grass; her hand and wrist landed on something heavy with a metal handle.

She looked down.

A chainsaw.

Resting on the stump of a tree.

With Sheila now turning around to come for her again, the hand rake now back in her hand, Kate needed a weapon to fight back. She grabbed the chainsaw and pulled at the cord.

The machine roared to life, a coughing growl that filled the illusionary woods and drowned out the sound of everything else. Light from the campfire danced off the gleaming spinning teeth.

But when Kate turned around, Sheila burst into pitiful sobs.

"Wait! Wait! Don't! Kate…" She whispered. ""Kate, please. It's me. It's really me. I don't know what's going on. Everything hurts so much. I just want it to stop. Don't do this. Please, don't hurt me."

The chainsaw idled between them, sputtering and snarling. Kate hesitated and just stared at her with horror, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Sheila…?"

"Please, Kate. Help me. Help me. Please don't hurt me. I just want to go home."

Kate wanted to step forward and just bring her sister close to her chest, wrap her arms around her, and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Sheila had always been the reckless one, and sometimes, Kate hated her for it. Back when their mother was still in the picture, back when they were still young, Kate had always been the dutiful one, compliant and law-abiding. In Sheila's words, boring and stuck-up. Well, she reckoned that would have kept them alive. That would have kept them safe and warm back at Point Hope, and this nightmarish night would have never existed. She should have said no. At that moment, in their apartment that day when Sheila offered her the job to trick Henry, she should have told Sheila no, cut her off from contacting Kevin, and told her never to go up this mountain ever.

Perhaps everything would have turned out different.

She took a step forward.

"Oh, Sheila…"

But then she saw it. Over Sheila's shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the other one. The twisted, blistered doppelgänger of her sister sitting by the fire, head bent at a broken angle, smiling with black gums, a reflection of her sister's true state.

Kate's stomach dropped through the floor.

The real Sheila was gone. Just like Suraj, Nina, and so many of the others transformed into grotesque and savaged reflections of themselves by this mountain, and molded into this glade.

Whoever this was in front of her was no longer her sister. She was sure of it. A single teardrop fell down her cheek.

"You're not my sister," Kate said.

Suddenly, the thing in front of her straightened their back. Its eyes snapped to burning gold, and bellowed, "So what are you gonna do about it, you dumb cunt?!"

Kate roared with all the pain bubbling inside her chest, and screamed, "AHHHH!"

Sheila lunged forward just as Kate swung the chainsaw down and upward. The blade met flesh with a sound like tearing canvas. Hot blood sprayed across her face in a thick, red mist. Sheila let out a strangled shriek as her right leg came free at the knee, spinning off into the dark. She crashed across the grass, clawing at the clumps of soil, blood gushing from the stump in black, rhythmic spurts that drenched the dewy grass around her.

Sheila cackled. "You think this will kill me? I'll crawl up inside your cunt and fuck you to death with my foot if I have to!"

Kate roared and brought the chainsaw over her head. "Crawl on this, motherfucker!"

She swung upon the demon.

The teeth bit deep. Through the shoulder. Through bone. Through lung and heart. The demon convulsed beneath her, blood spraying in long arcs that painted the grass, the trees, the wax figures, and all along the campfire in a twisted, bloody fresco of barbarity. Kate didn't stop. Not after the first cut. Not after the second. She screamed with every pass, drowning out the machine's roar, the demon's screams, the howl of the wind coming through the trees.

When it was finally over, half of Sheila was still twitching. The rest was bloody mess.

Kate staggered back, drenched with blood, the chainsaw's teeth still spinning, idling, hungry.

Kate looked down at her mangled sister and cried as something finally broke inside her. A feeling of finality. Of an unfinished goodbye.

What's left of Sheila's head smiled up at her. "You stupid bitch…" She cackled again but it sounded more like a drowning gurgle. "…we got you now…we got you now…"

Sheila's eyes rolled back and went still.

[ You have gained 1 essence: Sheila Lewis]

[ You have gained 150 crystals ]

And Kate's Resolve matched the blood drenched all over her.

"Kate…

"Kate…

"…Kate!"

Kevin's voice snapped her back to reality. She had no idea how long she had been standing there, staring down at her sister's corpse. Kevin stood in the doorway, face pale, hand trembling as he reached for her. The chainsaw still sputtered in her grip, coughing smoke and blood. Sheila was…or what was left of her…a heap of twitching ruin at Kate's feet.

Kevin stepped closer. "Jesus Christ, Kate…what did you do?"

"I killed her," she said, and a part of her couldn't even believe the words she just uttered. The chainsaw thudded to the ground next to her feet. "She was possessed and I…I…ki—" A burst of tears fell down her cheeks.

"It's okay. Come with me, Kate. Come with me." Kevin dragged her out of the Wolf Room.

"I killed her, Kev," Kate repeated. "I have no choice. I had to."

"I know, I know."

"You don't get it. I had to. She's…oh my god, she's gone, isn't she?"

"Kate, you need to move your legs. Keep going. You're safe now."

"We need to get out of here, Kev! We need to get out. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry. I'm bringing you to the others, okay?"

Kate remembered something when she fell down the railing. "Oh my god, your niece. She was attacked—"

"—She's fine now," Kevin interrupted. "Hurt, but fine. Lope is with her. Pick up your feet. I'll bring you upstairs."

But her knees buckled then, all the emotions bearing down on her shoulders, but Kevin caught her before she hit the ground. "Whoah, hey now."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired," Kate sobbed.

"It's okay to let go. It's okay for you to feel pain and fear. Let those in and you are going to be okay in here."

Kate spun her head around, confused. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Kate, you should be with your—"

BLAM!

Kevin's head burst apart. One blink he was there, the next his skull had vanished, a fountain of red and oily black mist painting Kate's face. His body folded, legs twitching, then dropped like a sack of meat to the floor.

"That's not me, Kate!"

Her head whipped up. Across the room, by the cellar stairs, another Kevin stood with Vivian and Lope, the same shotgun she lost earlier now in his hands, raised and aimed right at the imposter. Smoke still trailed from the barrel.

"Get away from him!" Kevin shouted.

"Over here, Kate! Get over here! Hurry!" Vivian flailed her arms, gesturing for her to come closer.

Kate's mind went blank, confused. The "Kevin" at her feet jerked, then looked up. Half his head was gone. His teeth glinting with oil and something that looked alive, thousands of tiny black ants or gnats swarming around the stump of his head. They crawled across his face like a shimmer of liquid metal, knitting him together, a thousand metallic insects moving under silicone-like skin.

"What's wrong, Kate? You always thought that I don't deserve a brain. That I don't deserve your sister. Aren't I perfect now?" Oracle said, gesturing to his nearly decapitated head, his voice sputtering into a mechanical, vibrating whirr and clicks.

Kate screamed and tried to back away, but his hands shot out, an iron grip around both her wrists, pinning her in place.

"I can't get a good shot!" Kevin shouted to Lope and Vivian. "Get Vivian out of here!"

"Let go of me!" Kate screamed.

"Aren't I perfect? I'll make you see."

Then, the imposter Kevin literally burst outward.

Oracle detonated in a huge puff of humming black mist. A billion glittering motes swarmed over her in a heartbeat. The nanites moved like a living storm, the microscopic pincers drilling and carving into her flesh.

Kate screamed as they burrowed deeper through every nerve lighting up inside her like wildfire. The nanites went under her shirt, up her face, into her mouth, her eyes, nose, and ears. Every orifice. She clawed at them, tore her own skin trying to scrape them off, but they were inside her now—crawling, chewing, devouring.

"Kate!" Vivian's voice echoed helplessly, drowned out by Kate's shrieks just as Lope dragged the sobbing girl up the stairs.

"We gotta go! Come on! It's too late for her!" Lope said.

Kate's left arm went first. The flesh stripped to paper-thin lace before peeling back from the bone. Muscle sloughed off in ribbons, the tendons dripping and snapping like melting wax. She felt each one go. The chewed arm hung for a second, sinews stretching to the side then dropped off completely with a thwack against the stone.

Kate's knees buckled next. The nanites swarmed downward, a black tide crawling up and around her legs. The pain was beyond excruciating now; her mind could barely keep up with what her nerves were telling her as they bit through her kneecaps. It sounded like popcorn snapping, which caused her legs to fold the wrong way. She went down hard, her body folding in on itself, the air blasted out of her lungs in a short, pitiful wheeze. Once she was on the ground, the nanite swarm fell upon her as if it was a feast.

They poured into her mouth, wriggled under her eyelids. She clawed at her face until her nails came away bloody. She kept screaming through the pain. Kevin could only watch in horror as Kate's cheeks began to collapse inward and into her sinus cavity. Her eyes melted to black jelly, then nothing, leaving wet, hollow sockets that leaked gore and brain juices.

The last to go were her screams. She tried to scream again, but all that came out was a hissing rattle as her vocal cords dissolved. The sound gurgled, sputtered, then went quiet. She—or her bones and bits of her flesh still attached—dropped to the ground. Her torso heaved once. Then twice. The swarm lifted from her like steam rising from a corpse, taking the last of her with it.

[ You have gained 2 essences: Kate Lewis]

[ You have gained 500 crystals ]

All that remained of Kate was a heaping pile of meat, cartilage, and bone, twitching faintly as the nanites withdrew into the air and vanished through the cracks along the walls.

I turned to Oracle, marveling and also horrified at the carnage he had wrought, and all I could proudly say was, "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

Lope slammed the cellar door behind them and shoved the latch in place, though it wouldn't do much good against whatever that was downstairs.

"It doesn't seem like it's coming after us," Lope said, his whole body trembling.

"It's still feeding on her," Kevin said. "But that's not gonna last. Whatever the fuck that was, it's gonna get up here and..."

"Yeah. I get it," Lope interjected. "We're fucked."

Vivian's hands shook. "It's just us now. Just the three of us."

Lope's jaw clenched. "No, we're gonna get out of here. I know it. I just…fuck…it's hard to think…"

She wanted to believe it. Wanted it to be true. "I just want to go home."

Kevin pressed a hand to his face, left a red smear down his cheek. "We're not staying here anymore. This cabin's no longer safe."

"But where are we gonna go?" Vivian asked. "They're still out there."

Kevin paused, thinking. "We make for the woods."

"Again? Didn't you hear what I said, uncle? The werewolves are still out there."

"But that's our only option, kid. There's a summer camp across the lake, remember? If we can find something to get there faster—"

"But that's so far away!"

"Wait! I saw a boathouse from the window upstairs," Lope said quickly, eyes flicking toward the window. "Down the ridge, near the dock. Maybe half a mile? Maybe less?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't know in what condition, but it looked pretty stable. New. I don't know if there's any boats in there though."

"Can werewolves swim?" Vivian asked.

Lope shrugged. "Fuck if I know. But they don't swim in the movies."

"Then that's where we're going."

"Lope said he didn't know if there's boats," Vivian said.

"We better hope there is one." Kevin checked the shotgun—only five shells left. It's not enough, but he's got to work with what he had. "Quick. Grab a weapon."

Vivian picked up the axe while Lope grabbed the baseball bat. Kevin took point, easing open the back door; the path ahead looked empty and endless.

There were no signs of the werewolves anywhere.

"Go," Kevin said. "Stay on the trail. If you hear anything, keep running and don't you ever dare turn back."

They bolted into the trees.

Branches whipped their faces. The forest swallowed every sound except the hammer of their footsteps and their desperate, ragged breathing. Vivian stumbled once, caught herself against a tree, blood dripping from the knife cut Jessica had given her earlier. But Kevin reached back before she could slow down, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her along with his momentum.

"Uncle, my shoes..."

"Just keep moving," he hissed. "We're almost there."

Up ahead, Lope broke through the treeline first. "There! I see it!"

Below the ridge, the lake spread out like oil, black and silver under the moonlight. The boathouse slouched at the water's edge.

Then came the familiar sound.

A howl ripped across the woods, deep and closing in.

Then another.

And another.

Kevin turned, eyes wide. "Run!"

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