“I really wish you would get on that bike and leave, little brother.”
“You think I want to survive if it means leaving you here to die? You think I could ever forgive myself for that? No way. We get out of this together or not at all.”
Ryan glanced at Aaron and saw a stranger. He saw a man. “Looks like you’re all grown up. I’m proud.”
“I had a great big brother as a role model.”
Brett came for them, swiping his arms but unable to use them fully yet – the last remnants of bone making them too rigid to whip. There was an inhuman quality to his gaze as he glared at Ryan, even as he spoke. “Your life is behind you, Ryan. All that’s left is the drudgery of growing old.”
Ryan swallowed, dreading that the words were coming from Brett. Were these his genuine beliefs, or was the fungus messing with his brain? The answer quickly became apparent. “That’s not Brett talking. Brett spent his whole childhood looking ahead. He couldn’t wait to grow up. Life was finally exactly how he wanted it, and you took it away from him. Brett, if you’re still in there, you were always the best of us – and I love you, man.”
Ryan and Aaron raced forward at the same time. Ryan swung his hammer at Brett’s misshapen skull, catching him in the temple while Aaron buried his three-tined pitchfork underneath his twisted ribcage. Flesh parted like butter. Bone shattered like eggshell. Brett screeched, a torrent of blood and brown fluid erupting from his foul jaws. Bugs slopped onto the ground alongside liquidised viscera. Aaron twisted the pitchfork and opened up a deep hole in Brett’s stomach. More bugs emerged from the gaping wound, falling onto the driveway. Immediately, a dark green stain started spreading throughout the gravel. They were ejecting the infectious oil.
Ryan pried his hammer out of the sticky brown hole he had left in his friend’s skull and swung it again. This time he planted the hammer right in the middle of Brett’s forehead. His skull parted, opening up to reveal chunks of decaying brain matter. The brown ooze spilled between the cracked bone and dripped down Brett’s ruined face. His body collapsed onto the driveway, Aaron’s pitchfork still buried in his guts. Aaron yanked it free and planted it in the mush that was the remains of Brett’s head. The last of it came apart.
Ryan bent over and vomited.
Still battling with Sean on the ground, Loobey cried out for help.
Loobey was losing his grip, and it was clear why. Sweat came from his every pore, the exertion far too much for his diminished reserves. Sean already had half his body free, lashing out with one of his tendrils and whipping it back and forth in the air. Loobey did his best to avoid the talon on the end.
Aaron retrieved his pitchfork from Brett’s skull and quickly came to Loobey’s aid. He planted the tines in the gravel, pinning Sean’s tendril underneath. It was just in time, too, because Loobey finally gave in, rolling aside and gasping for breath.
Sean was finally free of Loobey’s weight.
Ryan lunged with his hammer, attempting to plant it in the middle of Sean’s forehead – erasing whatever was left of his friend – but he was caught by surprise as an unpinned tendril whipped at the hammer and knocked it from his grasp. Instinctively, Aaron pulled his pitchfork free from the ground, causing him to unwittingly free Sean’s other tendril. Now unrestrained, Sean leapt to his feet. His skeletal face had cracked apart on one side, bugs scuttling out of the bony chasm.
Ryan turned and dragged Loobey to his feet. “Look, we need to go.”
“Can’t.”
Aaron thrust at Sean with the pitchfork, but Sean’s tendril lashed out and wrapped around the metal shaft. Aaron fought to hold onto it, but the pitchfork was quickly torn from his grasp. “Shit! We need to make a run for it.”
Ryan attempted to grab one of the bicycles lying on the ground, but Sean leapt in the way. He whipped both tendrils at the same time, trying to scissor Ryan in half, but he was able to lunge out of the way just in time. He spotted his hammer lying on the driveway and tried to make a grab for it, but once again Sean moved in the way. The monster was too fast, its whip-like appendages slicing through the air.
Loobey appeared and grabbed Ryan, but his grasp was weak, almost childlike. “Go, Ryan, please. You have to get help.” Ryan went to argue, but Loobey shoved him. “It’s too late for me.”
Aaron tried to get around behind Sean, edging slowly towards his fallen pitchfork. Sean saw the movement and lashed out at him, almost slicing his throat. The near miss filled Ryan with dread. He had to get his little brother out of there.
Ryan looked at Loobey. “We can’t leave you. I can’t leave you to die.”
“I’m already dead.” Loobey held up his arm. The back of his hand was sliced right open, blood flowing down the woollen sleeve of his coat. Mixed with the blood were tiny splotches of green. “Sean got me. Always said he’d be the death of me.”
“You’re not dying.”
“Yeah, mate, I am. I was dying before this weekend even got started.”
Ryan understood immediately. He had known Loobey too long not to sense the tone in his voice. “Your cancer is worse than you let on.”
Loobey nodded.
Nearby, Sean continued hunting Aaron. Ryan was desperate to go save him, but…
Loobey… He’s my best friend.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Ryan. I didn’t want to ruin your stag do, but there was no way I could miss it either. Just get out of here, okay? Get help. It’s your only option.”
Ryan turned and grabbed the pair of bicycles, propping them upright. He turned to Loobey and smiled, doing everything he could to keep his tears at bay. “Don’t worry about it,
