pellets singing past Scott’s ear before slamming into the wall behind him.
His breaths coming more quickly in pants from his shuddering chest, Scott stepped with more authority through the room, intently fixed on the tip of the barrel as he crossed. Finally, in the midst of the wave of choking sounds, he lowered his barrel, knowing that if he fired the weapon into that corner he would shred Harry like the hot water heater.
Lowering the gun to the ground, he allowed it to fall from his hands to the earth with a clatter. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he grabbed tightly onto the handle of the thick hunting blade. The jagged, tearing edge ripped a line through his jacket as he pulled it out and clenched it tightly in his hand.
His breaths quickening with a fearful determination, Scott lowered his shoulder and threw his arms out to the sides and charged into the corner with as much speed and ferocity as he could muster. Slamming into something soft, he left his feet, pinning whatever he had run into against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of whoever it was he had hit.
There was a loud gasp from beneath him as he floundered around, trying to get off of whatever he had ferociously tackled. The body below him slapped at him in a panic, trying to toss him from atop it. Landing on his back, Scott quickly leapt onto all fours, grabbing a hold of whatever he could on the flopping body.
“Get off!” Harry choked out, fighting to fill his lungs with the dusty, dank air.
Scott hopped back, whirling back towards the room as he could feel whatever else was in there with them was close. Laying both palms on the floor, he rapidly ran his hands in arcs across the frozen dirt, trying desperately to find the gun he had laid down. The hunting knife was pinned between his open palm and the dirt, scraping loudly across the rock- encrusted surface as he dragged it.
And then he felt it.
Something grazed the back of his hand, barely touching the skin but rifling through the hairs that stood on end. It was a cold touch, as though he had raked the back of his hand across a line of icicles. Allowing the knife to stay exactly where he knew that it would be on the floor, he turned over his hands and attempted to feel whatever it was that hung in the air above the ground.
There were five distinct swellings at the base of whatever the object was. Five frozen, rounded digits, the tips of which were adorned with a sharp, hard coating, rested atop his open palm as his fingers traced the backs of what Scott knew instantly were the callused pads of the bottoms of toes.
Still cradling the end of the foot in his right hand, he slowly reached with his left for the knife he had laid down only a moment prior, gripping it tightly in his clenched fist. With a loud groan, he raised the blade into the air, driving it straight through the top of the foot. Warm fluids spilled out into his cupped right palm, slipping through the gaps in his fingers, trickling in streams onto the dirt floor.
His hand slipped from the handle of the awesome weapon as he tried to quickly pull it free in preparation of another rapid strike. The jagged edge had apparently locked onto the array of bones within the center of the foot, lodging itself there.
There was no sign that he had inflicted even the slightest amount of pain as there wasn’t a howl or a cry, just the wave of blood that cascaded into his hand as the foot finally rose further into the air to where he could no longer feel it. Now, he had absolutely no idea where whatever he had stabbed had gone.
Flopping back onto his belly, he pawed at the ground, searching violently for the shotgun that he knew had to be somewhere close by. His fumbling fingers traced the frozen earth, searching in vain for the weapon that suddenly felt as though it would never again rest against his shoulder.
There was a sudden tug on the back of his jacket as he felt himself cleaved off of the floor. His dangling arms and legs flopped helplessly above the cold turf, what little he could grasp peeling back the tips of his fingernails and lodging itself deeply beneath the nail. Something resembling a growl pierced the silence from somewhere just above him as the sudden feeling of weightlessness overwhelmed his senses.
He flew through the air for what felt like close to a minute before finally slamming shoulders first into the wall of the room, a shattered layer of dirt falling from the wall and into his hair. A bolt of pain rocketed through his shoulder blades as the back of his head snapped back, slamming into the wall before slumping forward atop his limp neck onto his chest. His legs lay flat on the floor, stretched out in front of him across the dirt. Fighting against his eyeballs as they wanted nothing more than to just roll back into his skull and embrace but the momentary darkness of the oblivion that beckoned from the unconscious, he pushed himself from the ground, sliding against the wall to his feet.
His head lolling slightly on his neck, he peered through the darkness, flashing dots marring his vision, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Harry or whatever it was that had pounded him against the wall.
There was the thunder of footsteps, racing up the wooden stairs towards the kitchen. Whirling, he caught but the briefest of glances of Harry’s darkened form as it raced diagonally up the wall. The door opened with a bang, slamming backwards into the wall as the footsteps were immediately above his head on the plywood floor.
Trying to shake off his sluggishness, Scott lumbered towards the stairs, grabbing hold of the railing and using it as a crutch to pull himself up the stairs. The spider webs finally beginning to clear in his jumbled mind, Scott stared around the kitchen, looking for any sign of movement, but there was none.
There was a sudden whistling sound in the air, like some large object knifing through the air towards him.
The object slammed into Scott’s chest, knocking him clean off of his feet and into the air once more. He landed squarely on his back, the weight of the heavy object slamming down atop him, forcing the air from his lungs. A sharp pain issued through his back as he tumbled backwards down the stairs and into the cellar once again. His body flopped like a rag doll as he rolled down the stairs, finally slamming onto the small, square cement pad as the bottom, the heavy object again landing squarely on his chest.
Rolling out from beneath the unmoving lump, Scott wallowed on the earth fighting for even the smallest gasp of air. His eyes rolled to be back of his head, his fingers bent into wicked claws at his sides as he raked at the dirt, clawing for just a single breath.
Harry moaned from beside him from where he lay in a heap at the base of the stairs. There was no other sign of movement, but at least a moan meant that he was still alive.
“So you came here to kill me,” a voice said from the darkness, echoing all around them in the small room.
Finally, choking a gulp of air past his dry trachea, Scott rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to find the strength to stand.
“I expected better from you, Scott.”
Finally, stumbling to his feet, Scott looked frantically around the room for the origin of the voice. He knew, as he had recognized from the first syllable uttered, that it was Matt’s voice.
“I thought that even after all of this time that there was still a connection between us, a bond that we’ve shared since long ago. But I guess I was wrong. I guess there’s nothing left for us to share but this brief moment.”
A dim pinpoint of light appeared directly overhead in the center of the basement, the small ball swelling larger and larger until it finally took on the pear shaped form of the old light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The M- shaped tungsten filament snapped and popped as it glowed bright yellow, filling the dust coated globe.
While it was barely enough light to see his swaggering shadow on the floor, it was more than enough to allow him to see the shadow of the enormous form that floated in the air nearly directly in front of him. Stabilizing himself, he fought with his aching chest, trying to summon a few words of rebuttal, but nothing would come.
He watched as the immense outline of the form glided over the earthen floor beneath the light, finally coming to rest right in front of him. He could feel Matt’s warm, damp breath on his face, could nearly taste the carrion that festered between his yellowed teeth. Staring into the darkened face, he could see nothing but blackness. Clenching his fists at his side, he waited for his opportunity.
“There’s something you need to know,” Matt whispered, his rasping voice still seeming to come from all around the room.
Scott just stared blankly into the black pits where the eyes should have been.
“Shane cried like a little girl before I snapped his neck, begging through the tears for his life.”
His lips tightening against his teeth, Scott raised his right fist and swung, striking Matt right in the
