Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Now, I think and wave at Aubrey. I run for the door, pulling the planks over it and securing them into place. The sound attracts snarls and footsteps from inside and I have just enough time light the fuel-soaked cloth, a bright flare that momentarily illuminates the porch before I duck back into the darkness.
The fire races along the fuse, a bright serpent crawling toward the cabin with hungry intent. The explosion is more violent than I anticipated—a whoosh of igniting fuel that nearly blows the door off its hinges. Flames engulf the entrance in seconds, spreading rapidly across the kerosene-soaked wood, hungry tongues of fire climbing the walls and reaching for the roof.
Meanwhile I hear glass breaking and another whoosh from the other side of the cabin, Aubrey tossing her firebomb inside the loft.
The hungry ones react with immediate panic—inhuman screeches filling the night as they find themselves trapped in the inferno. Some try to escape through the burning door, only to be driven back by the intensity of the flames. Others scramble toward the windows, clawing at the boards we’d secured hours earlier to keep out the cold. A few try to go through the ones they’d already broken through in their attempt to get us, but there are so many of them that they bottleneck, writhing, stuck, as the flames engulf them from behind.
“It’s working,” Aubrey breathes beside me, her face illuminated by the growing blaze, eyes reflecting the dancing flames. There’s no triumph in her expression, only grim satisfaction as the fire consumes the cabin—and her sister’s body along with the creatures that caused her transformation. Eli, Red, Hank, maybe Cole too.
The roof catches now, the entire structure becoming a beacon in the night, casting wild shadows across the snow-covered clearing. The screeches from inside grow more frantic, then begin to fade as the hungry ones succumb to the one thing that can truly destroy them.
As we watch, the burning roof collapses completely, sending a fountain of sparks and embers into the night sky. The main structure follows, walls falling inward, the entire cabin reduced to a burning pile of timber.
“We should go,” I say. “Get down to lower elevation before sunrise. Find help, and fast.”
She nods and is about to say something when a snarling noise cuts above the roar of the flames.
36
JENSEN
The sound is primal and hungry. Aubrey and I spin toward it simultaneously, weapons raised. There, illuminated by the inferno that was once the cabin, stands Adam—his pale form silhouetted against the dancing light, eyes reflecting an unnatural blue.
“He wasn’t inside,” Aubrey breathes, disbelief evident in her voice. “He saw the trap.”
Or he escaped.
But there’s no time to process the failure of our plan. Adam launches himself toward us with that unnatural speed, covering the distance between us in seconds. I shove Aubrey aside and pivot, narrowly avoiding his first attack as clawed hands rake the air where I’d been standing.
“Run!” I shout, bringing my rifle to bear.
Aubrey rolls to her feet with impressive agility, gun already tracking Adam’s movement as he circles back for another attack. Her first shot cracks through the night, catching him in the shoulder. The impact spins him but doesn’t slow him.
“We need fire!” I yell.
Adam’s lips pull back in a grotesque parody of a smile, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. Unlike the mindless snarls of the other hungry ones, there’s terrible intelligence behind his eyes. He circles us predatorily, keeping the burning cabin at our back, using it as a shield against any attempt to drive him into the flames.
“Lainey fought you for three years,” Aubrey says, her voice steady despite the terror I know she must be feeling. “We can finish what she started.”
Adam’s face contorts at the mention of Lainey’s name, a guttural growl emanating from deep in his chest. His features twist with something that might almost be grief if it weren’t so perverted by the hunger. He tilts his head in that unnatural way I’ve come to associate with the hungry ones, studying Aubrey with predatory focus.
“You abused her,” I growl, the rage I’ve been suppressing finally finding voice. “Controlled her. Turned her into something monstrous. And now you’ll burn like the rest of them. I pray only she knows true peace.”
I fire a shot at his kneecaps, hoping to slow him down, to buy us time to think. The bullet blasts his knee open, blood and bone flying, staggering him momentarily. Aubrey takes the opportunity to put more distance between us, circling toward a fallen tree that offers some cover.
Adam’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. His gaze fixes on Aubrey with hungry intensity. The McAlister blood—he can smell it in her.
“We are ending this,” she says coldly, her gun aimed at his head.
Adam’s response is another snarl as he gathers himself to attack again. I edge toward a fallen branch—a potential improvised weapon if I can get it into the flames.