The buzzing from above changed to screeches of pain and anger. I looked up and saw the wraiths transform into terrible beasts. Here was the spider, the werewolf, the Thumbprint People, the scorpion, and a clown, a whale, a corpse—you name it.
And it was then I knew that we couldn’t just run.
This wasn’t another skirmish. It was the final battle, the one that could potentially put an end to the war once and for all. We had to go for the knockout or risk dying in the future.
I was sick of these bastards, and the cold, I was sick of fearing for my life at every waking moment. I was sick of it all.
Everyone couldn’t pile into the snow-tank, so Stone and George had taken to guiding the survivors out of the hub. Where? I don’t know. Just as far away from all of this as possible.
Ell was pulling me toward the others fleeing the scene. I stopped and yanked my arm from her grasp.
“Grady! What are you doing?”
“Ell, I love you.” I leaned in and kissed her on the lips. She grabbed my hand. I thought that it might be our last, that this might be the final time I ever looked at her.
“What? Grady, are you crazy?!”
I didn’t answer her, but let go of her hand and made my way to the tank.
With a growing numbness coming over my body, I patted my jacket’s pocket. The flares from Nick’s panic room were still there. I pulled them out and gripped them tightly as the freezing wind blew me toward the broken ground.
Snow was falling again. Large gray-white flakes came down in droves, obscuring the black parts of the Matron still poised on the edge.
Moving toward it, another hand clamped the fracture’s opposite side. From each finger jutted a sharp nail as tall as a man.
“Grady!” Stone yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I barely heard him over all the noise. That, and I was too set on what I meant to do next.
The drums of fuel were still inside the snow-tank. I climbed in the back, popped the caps off their spouts. A gushing waterfall of sharp-smelling gasoline soaked the cargo hold. I became lightheaded for a moment, but shook it off before I could pass out.
I turned in time to see the Matron’s crowning head. I covered my eyes, because I knew if I looked at this thing, if I stared into its horrible face, I would lose my mind.
“Graaaddddyyyyyyy,” the voices of the wraiths called, a mixture of my lost loved ones and something sinister. “Graaaddddy—”
I ignored this and lit my flares.
Then I threw them into the tank’s storage hold. The flames that erupted in the back were as bright as July 4th fireworks.
Reaching in and grabbing the key hanging from the tank’s ignition, excruciating heat licking at the back of my neck, I twisted it and the engine roared to life. Amongst the debris was some shattered brick. I grabbed a piece and planted it firmly on the tank’s gas pedal.
A huge shadow fell over the entirety of the hub—no, the City. The screeches reached their peak. I thought my head was going to explode.
The tank lurched toward the fissure.
Eyes half-open, I turned and ran.
I ran for my life.
The result was like the explosion of a nuclear bomb.
And then it wasn’t.
The flaming tank had passed through whatever membrane lay between our world and the monsters’.
I was propelled forward, blinded by the brightness, and I had passed out before I hit the ground.
Later—I don’t know how long, though—when I came to, Eleanor was standing over me and crying, with soot stains on her cheeks. We were just outside of the hub. In the snow.
It didn’t feel as cold anymore.
“What—what happened?” I croaked.
“I-I don’t know,” she said. “But the storm stopped, and the—the wraiths are gone.”
She kissed me.
As she pulled me to my feet, movement came from behind. We spun around and saw Credence emerge from the debris. She had her back to us.
Impossible, I remember thinking. She’s dead. I saw her die.
I guess I wasn’t too far off, actually.
Neither Ell nor myself had a weapon, but Credence did. In her hand was a small pistol. Slowly, she turned. Her brow was bloody. She was smiling, but most of her teeth had fallen out.
And then she opened her eyes. They were the color of TV static.
She began to laugh.
This is it. This is the end of the road. Killed by a crazy person, I thought.
Credence, still cackling, raised her weapon.
I grabbed Ell, rotated, and shielded her as best I could just as the pistol cracked.
There was no more laughing.
I waited for the inevitable pain of the bullet wound to come. It didn’t.
I looked at where Credence had once stood.
She was dead, lying amongst the rubble. She had blown out her own brains.
In the later days, after I had time to ruminate on all this, the conclusion I came to was simple: Credence had looked whatever came out of the fissure in the eyes. It had scrambled her already infected mind and, no longer able to take it, she decided to put an end to the misery the insanity brought her.
And I didn’t blame her. Not one bit.
Without fuel and without a vehicle, we decided to stay in the City. At least there was shelter and some sense of familiarity, despite all that had happened.
For two days, I had no idea what had become of Mia, Monica, Chewy, Nick Rider, and the others. Had they made it out safely? Were they still okay?
The snow had stopped, but it was still bitter cold; the wind blew hard, although not as violently as before. Leaving in these conditions without a vehicle would prove fatal. So all we could do was wait. And pray.
Yes, I prayed that the others were okay. As you know, I
