between Earl’s pant leg and me, as if deciding which one of us to eat first.
It wriggled towards Earl. His combat boot vanished into its maw with a sucking sound. The worm’s muscles rippled along its length as it swallowed his leg.
Shaking off the panic, I grabbed the pickax from the wall and swung it with all of my remaining strength. The point pierced the monster’s pulsating flesh and bit into the hardwood floor beneath it.
The creature coiled and thrashed, twisting its length wildly around the shed. Brown blood gushed around the pickax, and the stench was horrible. The worm knocked a barrel over. Shelled corn spilled out of the barrel, scattering onto the floor. Boxes and tools crashed from the work-bench and the hooks on the wall above it. But the pickax kept the worm pinned to the floor.
I yanked Earl free. His leg and foot slid out of the thing’s mouth with a wet, sickening pop. Slime covered his leg from the knee down. Earl groaned and his eyelids fluttered.
“G-Garnett?” he moaned.
“Shit.” I limped to the door, looked outside, and then turned back to him. “Why’d you have to wake up now?”
I half wished the thing had eaten him. We wouldn’t have been in this mess if not for him.
Earl sniffed the air and looked down at his chest. “Is—is that puke? Who fucking puked on me?”
Kevin and Carl rounded the corner and skidded to a halt on the wet grass, staring at the worm through the open door.
“The fuck is that thing?” Kevin shouted.
“It’s a worm,” I said, realizing that I’d picked up Carl’s gift for stating the obvious.
“Garnett,” Earl hollered from behind me. “Get me out of here, goddamn you!”
“You okay, Teddy?” Carl asked.
“I’m all right.” Wheezing, I leaned against the door frame. The rain felt cool on my face, and for once, I welcomed it. I wasn’t just tired; I was bone weary. My lungs burned, and my chest hurt. It felt like a big fist was squeezing my heart.
I turned back to Earl and the worm. The creature continued thrashing, trying to free itself. Kevin and Carl gaped at it, shaking their heads in either disgust or disbelief, or maybe both. Earl screamed, pushing himself against the wall.
“Shoot it,” I told Kevin. “Carl, go get us some pieces of kindling so we can make a splint for Salty.”
Carl’s eyes never left the worm. “You sure you’re okay, Teddy?”
“I’ll live. Just got the wind knocked out of me. Now go!”
Carl dashed over to the woodpile, keeping a wide berth around the newly reopened hole.
Kevin set Earl’s rifle stock firmly into his shoulder and sighted, going from Earl to the worm. I stepped outside so that he’d have a clear shot.
“That’s the guy who shot us down?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah, he’s the one.”
“I ought to shoot them both.”
“Go ahead,” I answered calmly, and in that second, I meant it, Christian thing to do or not. There wasn’t just one monster inside that shed. There were two of them.
Earl stared out at us, shrinking back against the wall as the worm whipped towards him again.
“Go ahead, you cocksucker! Shoot me!”
Kevin turned the rifle on the worm and squeezed the trigger. There was an empty click, barely audible over the downpour and the creature’s crazed throes.
Earl grinned. “It’s empty, you dumb fuck.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” I slapped my thigh, fear and fatigue giving way to anger and a fresh burst of adrenaline. I marched forward, deftly sidestepping the flailing worm, and grabbed the firewood ax from the wall. Making sure I had a firm grip on the handle, I positioned myself near the creature’s midsection and swung the ax down hard.
The ax easily parted the flesh, cutting deep and clean. The worm’s gyrations grew frenzied and it began making that hissing squeal again. Wrinkling my nose, I swung the ax again. Pulpy, stinking goo splattered my wet clothes as I chopped it in half. The worm shrieked. Someone else was screaming above the din, and after a moment, I realized that it was me.
The worm was now severed in half. The portion pinned to the floor by the pickax quivered, still leaking fluids. The freed portion flopped around like a fish out of water or a chicken with its head cut off, snaking back and forth across the planks. It tumbled out into the yard. Kevin clubbed it with the rifle, pulping what was left.
Carl returned with the kindling. “I think it’s dead now.”
Earl sat up and groaned again, struggling with his bound hands.
“Garnett,” he snarled through tobacco-stained teeth. “What the hell are you doing, you son of a bitch? Didn’t you see the black chopper that came up from the hollow? Why are my hands tied? And who’s that fucker with my rifle?”
“He works for the U.N.,” I whispered, kneeling to stare into his eyes. “He’s here to take over Punkin’ Center and Carl and I are helping him.”
Earl’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “What?”
“It’s true. He says that if we help him, he’ll give me the deed to your property when we’re done, and make Carl the mayor of Renick.”
“And then,” Carl added, “we’re gonna paint the town pink and invite in all the liberals. Maybe even get Clinton reelected for a third term.”
I grinned. “Or his wife.”
Earl screamed in furious indignation.
“Carl,” I said, stepping back into the shed. “Go get us some more kindling. That’s not gonna be enough.”
“Garnett,” Earl snarled, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
“Not today, you won’t.”
I tore off another piece of duct tape and placed it over Earl’s mouth. He shook with rage and the veins in his forehead and neck stood out. Snot bubbled from his nose. He kicked his heels against the floor. I grabbed his ankles and hauled him outside into the mud, where I left him. Earl shut his eyes against the rain beating at his face.
“Watch him closely,” I told Kevin, and ducked back inside the shed for the wheelbarrow. The worm had knocked it over onto its side. I heard Earl grunt, and when I came back outside Kevin was prodding him with his foot.
There was a noise behind us, from inside the shed. We turned to look and both of us took a step back. Even Earl got quiet.
The two severed halves of the worm were now moving independently of each other. One piece slithered slowly across the wooden planks, leaking blood and slime from its wounded end. The other segment wriggled helplessly, the pickax still holding it in place.
Kevin backed away. I slammed the door shut and threw the bolt.
“Will that hold them?” Kevin asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Doubt it.”
As if to prove the point, the entire shed shook as the worm heaved its weight against the door.
Kevin glanced towards the wreckage in the field. “We’d better get back to the others.”
“Carl,” I shouted, “how are we looking for kindling? Do we have enough?”
“He’s not here, Mr. Garnett,” Kevin answered.
“Where did he go?”
“I saw him run down to the woods.”
Cursing, I dragged the wheelbarrow out into the rain and glanced about. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I assumed that in his confused, panicky state, Carl had ignored the kindling from the woodpile. Instead, he had gone down to the forest to collect sticks and branches to use for the splint instead.
I loved him dearly, but sometimes Carl could be as dumb as a stump. This was one of those times.
“Get Earl up to the house where we can keep an eye on him,” I told Kevin. “Tie him to the picnic table or something. Then take the wheelbarrow over to your friends, so we can move Salty in it.”
“Where are you going?”
