Episode 8 - Holly and Fire

Christmas in Westville

Chapter 37

Fat flakes of snow blew wild in the winter dark, covering the streets of Westville in icy froth.

A warm glow game from the windows of shops all along main street, and the night was quiet. Families put the finishing touches on Christmas trees, trimming them with tinsel and holly. Bubble ornaments churning in orange red and yellow. Bright green, blue and violet lights adorned the stout pine tree near the Westville showboat.

Weeks removed from when a girl had gone missing. Millie Thompson had been found, the people of Westville could relax. They could fall back into the usual rhythms of small town life here in their spot on the mitten map of Michigan’s lower peninsula.

Joe Thompson watched the glitter of Christmas lights with reddened eyes, through the slats of a boarded-up window in the old abandoned high school office. He stepped back move into back into the hall into the utility closet, then flew open a breaker on the circuit and another. A weak undulating buzz followed the clank, followed by the sizzle and click of the school’s old intercom system, which was stuck on a local radio station, Sinatra’s “Jingle Bells” echoing the quiet empty halls.

His breath rose in plumes, illuminated by the flickering white emergency light and the glowing crimson EXIT sign near it.

Debris from a half-done demolition and intermittent vandalism crunched beneath Joe’s feet, broken glass clinking as he grit his teeth.

He was trying to resist the pull. The call. The command of the Red inside him.

That was useless. It had been this whole time. He stepped into the gymnasium, the basketball court where he’d played once, him and Casey both.

The jangling tune resounded all the more in here like a feverish nightmare. He thought briefly of brighter days, when there was a hope and a future. For him and for his family. He stepped up to where he’d left her. Still asleep. Still peaceful.

Millie was sedated. More morphine. He eyed the sirignes he’d used with disdain—stolen from Erin’s hospice nursing kit. A real family affair this has become. Revulsion rose in his gut, toward himself and his father and his damned dead grandfathers.

“It’s time,” said the Red. He heard the tick, tick, tick. He pictured his father.

Now, Joe had his own tree to trim.

He stepped toward the other end of the gymnasium, ignoring the unocnious body of Aly Fischer, toward the tarp that hung down like a curtain over the monstrosity nailed to the wall. He tore it off, revealing the macrabre jigsaw puzzle he’d been assembling for months. Amalgam bones. His grandfathers. Antlers ribs from multiple bucks, and their skins strung taut, torn and rotting over the vague shape resembling something that might have been capable of standing.

He climbed the stepladder, and straightened one of three skulls and cocked his head.

“Yes,” said the Red inside, a low purring growl. “Skin of the hunted… Bones of the guilty...”

“Blood of the Innocent,” Joe recited, a warm tears sliding down both his cheeks.

He stepped down off the ladder, and walked toward his beautiful daughter, peaceful in her chemical sleep.

Chapter 38

Casey had taken a detour on his way into town amid the swirling white, pulling into the Fischer’s driveway just outside of town. He knocked..

The house was dark. Door was locked. No answer.

Casey remembered something from Aly’s letter about Kathy Fischer heading up early to her sister’s place for the holiday, Aly and Liv to follow up Saturday morning. He got back in his truck and tore down the empty snow swept streets. The Friday before Christmas Eve and one of the worst snowstorms in recent memory meant empty roads. He passed the Family Affair parking lot—the stakeout spot where two months it had all been about to start on a fog-laden silent Saturday morning.

Everything was different now. Everything had changed.

And he had to make it right. To put an end to all the wrongs. Tonight.

He careened into the Shell gas station lot, just across from the PRINCE Milling offices, and killed the headlights.

Casey saw the lights on in Jack’s office on the second floor. It may have been late on a Friday night the day before Christmas Eve, but that never stopped Jack Thompson. Casey had at one time admired the man’s work ethic. But slowly he saw the cracks in that facade through the way it had affected Joe. The way it still affected him. Now those cracks were gaping chasms. They were caught in something—maybe something they couldn’t get out of—with Janus Global.

None of that changed the fact that all this time, as Westville worried and mourned for a girl missing, terror gripping the heart of the town Casey called home, they had been right at the black heart of it all. The bitter roots they themselves had grown. Crocodile tears doled out with no care like grain in the wind.

Casey grit his teeth, and stepped out his truck, slamming the door behind him. He ran over to the office door, and rapped on it hard. No answer. Again. Still nothing. He climbed the window near by, and managed to jimmy the old thing open. He dropped down and climbed up the stairs to the offices.

There at his desk, solemn and clutching something dull and golden in his fist—an old pocketwatch—was Jack Thompson.

He looked up at Casey, at first a curious, confused expression. Then he sighed. “Casey. Thought you were up north.”

“I was. Came down when I heard some news.”

Jack stood. “And what news is that?”

“Cut the crap Jack.” Casey stormed forward. “You’re going to tell me everything. Everything you’ve been hiding. The truth about Millie, and what was done to her and why.”

“You don’t know what your talking about—or what you’re dealing with,” Jack growled, the big man taking steps toward him. He was never a man to back down. But neither was Casey. Not anymore.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to Casey, his presence filling the room like a storm about to break. Jack grabbed something small off the desk. A single amber grain of wheat.

“You know what this is, Benson?” Jack asked, his voice low, almost reverent. He held up the kernel between his thumb and forefinger, turning it in the dim light. “A single seed of wheat. Small. Insignificant. But you know what happens to it?”

Casey didn’t answer, his fists clenched, every muscle in his body taut. Jack didn’t seem to care. He continued, his tone calm but weighted.

Jack’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. He continued, ignoring the threat in Casey’s tone. “This seed—it’s buried in the dirt, forgotten. It dies there. But then it grows, stronger than before. From that death comes life. We harvest it, grind it to dust, destroy it again. And from that dust, we make bread. Something new. Something vital.”

Jack stepped closer to the window, gazing out at the storm battering the silos, their shadows stretching like dark sentinels across the snow.

“You know what Janus gave us? Wealth. Power. The chance to make this town into something more than the backwater swamp it was. But none of that comes without a price. No harvest without the death of the seed. No bread without the mill.”

He turned back to Casey, his voice growing sharper, heavier. “Our family owes a debt, Benson. A blood debt. One that’s been passed down for generations. Millie... she was always going to be part of it. The first girl born into the Thompson line in two generations. The debt was hers to pay.”

Casey’s stomach twisted, his voice rising. “She’s your granddaughter, Jack. Your granddaughter. And you let them do this to her?”

Jack’s face tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I don’t lie awake at night, seeing her face? Hearing her laugh? But this... this was bigger than her. Bigger than me. Bigger than all of us.”

He paused, his knuckles whitening as he clenched the kernel. “Joe... he couldn’t do it. He was too weak to take her blood at first. And Janus—they don’t wait. They don’t care about your doubts or your hesitations. It was time. Our family’s debt was due, and there’s no walking away from that.”

Casey shook his head, his voice trembling with rage. “You had a choice, Jack. You always had a choice. Don’t stand there and pretend you’re some victim.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his voice growing colder. “You don’t understand what it means to carry this weight. To know the prosperity of your family, of your town, was built on something ancient and unforgiving. I tried to protect her. I tried to protect all of us. But Janus doesn’t forget. And when they came calling, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.”

He gestured to the kernel in his hand, his voice hardening again. “This seed doesn’t get to choose its fate, Benson. It’s crushed, turned to dust, so something greater can rise in its place. Millie’s blood... it was part of the cycle. The cost of everything we’ve built. And if I hadn’t done it, Janus would have taken her anyway. At least this way, it’s kept within the family.”

Casey took a step forward, his hands trembling with fury. “You’re a coward, Jack. You let them take her. You let them turn her into... into some tool for their sick plans.”

Jack’s gaze locked on Casey’s, unflinching. “I did what had to be done. You don’t have to like it. Hell, I don’t like it. But if you think for a second you can break this cycle, you’re a bigger fool than Joe.”

That was when Jack pulled a gun from behind his back. A Ruger trained at Casey’s head from five feet away.

The storm outside howled, the snow lashing against the window as the two men stared each other down. Jack’s face was a mask of resolve, but the cracks were there—regret and grief etched into every line. Casey’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming fast, but he held his ground.

Then, a radio sqeulched. Casey reacting out of reflex, clasping for the spot on his shoulder where his police radio would have been. Jack reached backward and the desk and picked up a walkie talkie, keeping the gun locked on Casey.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got some visitors.”

Even through the thin static of the radio, Casey recgonized a voice he’d come to loathe. It was Crawley.

“You’ve been protecting that creep all along too,” Casey yelled. “You’re pathetic, Jack.”

A sharp blast.

Jack fired the gun to the right of Casey’s head. He flinched, arms and legs shaking, ears ringing.

“I’ve got one too,” Jack responded.

“Group of kids came down the elevator.”

Kids. It had to be Liv and the others. Dread pooled in his stomach like tepid waters.

Jack frowned, then sighed. “Dispose of them any was you see fit.”

Casey was done hesitating.

He let impulse carry him, and ran toward Jack, tackling him as the Ruger went off again. Sparks flew from the ceiling light it struck showering down glass shards.

Jack growled and grab Casey’s face, shoving him off with unhinged ferocity. Casey rolled over, grabbed a shard of that glass as Jack scrambled for the pistol. Casey stabbed down on Jack’s hand, feeling the scrape on bone. Jack’s enraged scream filled the room in harmony with the howl of the storm outside. His other fist met Casey’s jaw with blinding force, white flashing in Casey’s vision.

He was dazed as he saw Jack getting up, and kicked at the man’s knee’s. He stumbled, dropping the gun. This time Casey was the one scrambling after it, and he grabbed hold of the gun, turned to train it on Jack.

But he was gone, the door to the stairwell swinging.

Casey picked up the radio that Jack had dropped—along with the dull gold pocketwatch with a dark stain over it’s face—and it squelched again as he did, Crawley’s voice on the other end.

“We’re putting them in Silo 3.”

Casey’s gut sank, but he didn’t hesitate. There wasn’t time.

Chapter 39

A crackle of static answered before a voice came through, gravelly and familiar.

“Dispose of them however you see fit,” Jack Thompson said.

“Take them up,” Crawley snapped.

The kids were herded down the hallway, their attempts to resist met with rough shoves. Crawley said something about a silo into the radio. His glowing eyes drilled into Olivia whenever she dared glance back.

They emerged into a large, open space dominated by a towering metal silo. A narrow staircase spiraled up its side, the steel glinting faintly in the red light. Snowflakes swirled through a gaping hole in the ceiling, the blizzard outside intensifying the biting cold.

“Up,” Crawley barked, motioning to the staircase.

Olivia hesitated, her mind racing for a way out. “You don’t have to do this.”

Crawley’s expression didn’t waver. “Move.”

They climbed the staircase, the metal creaking beneath their weight. The wind howled through the structure, biting at their exposed skin and numbing their hands. Olivia kept searching for an opening, a chance to escape, but the men behind them stayed close, their glowing eyes unblinking.

At the top of the silo, the wind was ferocious, whipping their hair and clothes. Kyle stopped, peering over the edge at the swirling snow below.

“You’re just gonna throw us off?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Ethan smirked. “Not exactly.”

One of the other men stepped forward and grabbed a large metal lever. With a grunt, he pulled it, and a hatch on the silo’s top slid open. The faint sound of shifting grain echoed ominously from within.

“Oh no,” Eli whispered, realization dawning on his face.

Crawley grabbed Olivia by the arm, yanking her toward the open hatch. She struggled, kicking and twisting, but his grip was iron-tight.

“Let’s see how long you last,” Crawley said coldly.

Olivia’s heart pounded. Inside the silo, the grain churned like a living thing, a slow, suffocating tide of golden kernels. The faint rustling sound was almost hypnotic, a sinister promise of drowning in solid ground. Olivia’s stomach twisted as she stared into the shifting abyss, the weight of inevitability pressing down on her.

“No!” Austin shouted, lunging at one of the other men. He managed to land a punch before being shoved hard against the railing.

“Stop!” Olivia yelled. “You don’t have to do this!”

Crawley ignored her, motioning for the other men to grab the boys. They struggled, thrashing against their captors, but the men were stronger, dragging them toward the hatch.

Olivia’s mind raced. She needed to think of something—anything—to stall them. But before she could form a plan, Crawley leaned in, his glowing eyes mere inches from hers.

“Say goodbye,” he whispered.

Olivia felt herself being pulled backward, the wind roaring in her ears.

Then, she was falling.

Casey rounded the corner of the silo’s platform just as Austin was slammed into the railing by one of the workers. His hands clenched around the Ruger as he stepped forward, but another figure lunged at him—a worker with red-glowing eyes and a murderous grin.

The man’s fist collided with Casey’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. Pain exploded in his cheek, but Casey recovered quickly, throwing his weight forward into the worker’s torso. They crashed against the silo wall, the air between them thick with the smell of sweat and grain dust.

“You’re all dead!” the man growled, his voice low and guttural.

Casey ducked a wild swing and delivered a sharp jab to the man’s stomach, but the worker barely flinched. Red light flared in his eyes as he lunged again, catching Casey by the throat and slamming him into the metal platform. Casey gritted his teeth, his vision swimming as the worker leaned in close.

Then out of nowhere a crutch struck out, tripping the red-eyed worker. The man stumbled forward, falling into the open hatch of the silo. His multi-pitched scream echoed briefly before the auger roared to life, grinding him down with a sickening crunch.

Eli’s face was pale and his eyes wide.

“You ok?”, Casey yelled. His vigourous nod gave no confidence.

“Come on,” Casey said.

Olivia had hit the edge of the open hatch before plunging into the grain. The world spun, and for a terrifying second, it felt like she was falling through water. Then the suffocating sea of kernels closed around her, gripping her legs and dragging her down.

“Help!” Olivia screamed, clawing at the grain, but her arms sank in deeper with every frantic motion.

Above her, Kyle and Austin’s voices cut through the storm’s howl.

“Grab her!” Kyle shouted, his body leaning dangerously over the silo’s edge as he extended his hand. Austin, wincing with the effort, reached down with the other.

“Stop moving!”, he yelled. “You’re sinking faster!”

Olivia forced herself to still, her chest heaving as the kernels pressed against her like a living thing. She felt Kyle’s hand graze hers, and she latched on, her nails digging into his wrist as he strained to hold her. The grain shifted ominously below her, a soft, rumbling groan that sent fresh terror surging through her veins. She felt herself sink another inch.

Gunshots cracked through the frigid air.

“Hold on!” Austin yelled, his tan knuckles white as he gripped her forearm. “We’ve got you!”

Olivia choked out a sob as her feet scraped something solid—the auger blade far below. Her pulse thundered in her ears as the boys hauled her upward, the grain rippling and collapsing where her body had been buried moments before.

Behind them, Casey let out a feral cry, tackling one of the men. The two collided with the silo railing, grappling and twisting in a chaotic flurry. The man was larger, stronger, but he fought like an animal, delivering a knee to his ribs.

“Get back!” Olivia yelled as Austin and Kyle finally dragged her free from the grain. Her legs trembled as she collapsed on the catwalk, gasping for air.

The sound of the auger filled her ears, and the heat from the grain bin seeped through the platform. “We have to get out of here!”

As they began to descend the stairs, Crawley reappeared below, his shotgun glinting in the red light of the emergency lamps. He fired, the blast deafening, sending a spray of pellets toward Casey, who barely dove for cover behind a rooftop ventilation duct, his glowing eyes locking onto the kids.

“Climb now!”, Kyle glanced back at Casey, hesitation etched on his face.

“Go!” Casey shouted from behind cover. “I’ll deal with him!”

Olivia didn’t wait. She grabbed Eli by the arm, dragging him toward the catwalk that spanned the gap between the silo and the mill’s rooftop. The wind tore at them as they crossed, the metal beneath their feet slick with snow and ice.

“Look out!,” Kyle yelled, shoving his cousin and forward into her.

Buckshot exploded and ricocheted. Kyle fell to the ground. Olivia looked on in terror as Austin and Eli cried out to him. Another blast forced her on as Crawley’s maniacal laughter echoed.

Casey grit his teeth as another shotgun blast ricocheted off the vent he was hiding behind. Crawley was methodical, circling closer, his boots crunching against the snow-covered rooftop. Casey’s mind raced. The Ruger only had two bullets left.

Crawley paused, reloading, his glowing red eyes scanning the rooftop.

“Benson,” he called out, his voice eerily calm. “You think you can protect them? You can’t even protect yourself.”

Casey didn’t answer. He steadied his breathing, his eyes fixed on Crawley’s head as he rose slightly from cover. Crawley raised his shotgun, aiming for the catwalk where the kids were crossing.

Casey fired.

The bullet struck Crawley dead between the eyes, his head wrenching backward.

They pulled Kyle to his feet. He wasn’t bleeding that Olivia could see, but had hit the ground hard in his effort to get them clear of the blast.

They barely had time to catch their breath before the last remaining worker—his chest soaked in blood but his eyes still glowing—lunged at them. He snarled, swinging a crowbar wildly as he chased them toward the massive PRINCE Milling sign.

“Keep moving!” Olivia yelled.

They reached the edge of the rooftop, snow falling in thick sheets around them. The worker closed in, his crowbar striking sparks off the metal frame of the sign.

“Get back!” Olivia screamed, grabbing a loose pipe from the ground and swinging it at the man. It connected with a dull thunk, but he barely flinched.

As the worker lunged for her, Austin lashed out. Olivia seized the moment, climbing onto the sign’s frame and leaping onto the man’s back. They both fell, the worker teetering on the edge of the rooftop.

Austin shoved with all his might. The man’s glowing eyes widened in shock as he tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the snowy void.

Olivia collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving. But their relief was short-lived. A shotgun blast tore through the air, shattering two letters of the PRINCE sign.

Crawley, still standing despite the shot to the head, raised his shotgun again, his body swaying like a puppet on strings. Red seethed from his body, the air alive with static.

Casey didn’t hesitate.

He fired the Ruger’s last bullet.

This time, Crawley’s body crumpled. His glowing eyes dimmed as he fell backward, disappearing into the snowy alley below.

Casey lowered the gun, hands shaking.

Chapter 40

All was silent atop the silo roof, the snow falling thick and fast, muting the world in an eerie hush.

The PRINCE sign loomed behind them, two of its letters shattered, the rest of it flickering and buzzing from Crawley’s shotgun blast. Casey stood at the edge, staring down at Crawley’s crumpled body far below on the utility road. Even from this height, he could see the trail of blood pooling around the man’s head, his face frozen in that unsettling, maniacal grin.

“Holy shit!” Kyle blurted, his voice trembling as much from fear as the cold. “You shot him.”

“Glad you noticed,” Olivia muttered, her breath visible in the icy air. “But yeah... holy shit.”

Casey’s hands were shaking, the adrenaline mingling with the bitter cold. His rib throbbed, and his knuckles ached from the earlier brawl. He turned away from the edge, trying to steady himself as the muffled shouts of the trapped men below rose through the open silo hatch.

“We need to get down from here,” he said, his voice clipped. “Now.”

Just as he turned toward the staircase, a blood-curdling screech cut through the stillness, carrying over the snowy expanse like a blade scraping metal. Everyone froze.

“What the hell was that?” Austin whispered, his eyes wide.

They turned toward the sound. Across the river, the old high school loomed, its dark windows glowing faintly in the distance. Then, as if summoned by the screech, the windows pulsed with an ominous red light, flickering like a heartbeat in the storm. Every streetlight and the ambient glow in buildings on main street and houses across the river went dark. Then, only the lights closest to main street flickered on again, the rest of the town remaining in blackout.

“I think we know where Millie is,” Olivia said.

The storm raged around them as they descended the silo’s interior staircase.

Each step groaned beneath their weight, the steel trembling like it might give way under the pressure of the night’s chaos. Below, the factory floor was alive with the eerie hum of machinery, automated lines creaking and whirring as though oblivious to the carnage that had unfolded. Emergency lights flickered erratically, throwing long shadows that stretched and twisted like specters against the cold concrete walls.

Casey led the way, his hand gripping the railing, his every nerve on edge. As they reached the final turn, his flashlight caught the body of one of the red-eyed workers draped across a conveyor belt, his head hanging at an unnatural angle. Blood trailed from his temple, pooling on the metal surface below. Casey swallowed hard, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and guilt. He’d shot one man for certain, possibly killed another in the silo. What court would ever believe his defense? Possessed mill workers and undead curses wouldn’t hold up under cross-examination.

They reached the ground floor, the dim light casting their faces in stark relief. Casey raised a hand, signaling the kids to hold back.

“Let me check first,” he muttered.

He cracked the factory door open, the icy air biting his face as he peered into the night. The storm was relentless, wind howling through the alleyways and whipping snow across the parking lot. Crawley’s body lay crumpled on the utility road like a discarded marionette, his face frozen in a grotesque grin. Beyond him, Main Street was deserted, eerily still except for the storm’s fury. The festive glow of Christmas lights strung along lampposts clashed violently with the scene. Wreaths adorned with cheery red bows swung wildly in the gale, while snow-laden garlands sagged from their anchors. The once-picturesque holiday decorations now framed a battlefield of life and death.

Casey took a breath and glanced back at the kids, who stood huddled together, faces pale and taut with fear.

“Let’s move.”

They stepped cautiously into the snow-dusted parking lot. The storm tore at their clothes, the icy wind slicing through even the thickest layers. Casey led them toward the Riverwalk, but just as they crossed the lot, a deafening roar erupted behind them.

Headlights pierced the darkness, blazing like twin suns and illuminating the swirling snow. A diesel engine snarled to life, tires spinning wildly on the slick road. Casey turned just in time to see the massive tractor-trailer lurch forward. The driver’s face glared back at him through the cracked windshield, eyes glowing crimson like molten coals.

“To the sidewalk!” Casey shouted, shoving Olivia toward the Riverwalk.

The truck roared, its wheels skidding across the icy pavement as it careened toward them. Casey raised his gun, the muzzle flaring as he emptied the clip into the windshield. The glass spiderwebbed with cracks, but the vehicle didn’t slow. He dove out of the way just as the truck slammed into the corner of the PRINCE Milling office building. The impact shattered glass and brick, sending chunks of debris flying into the storm.

The trailer jackknifed, skidding across Main Street in a screech of tortured metal. It smashed into the five-and-dime on the opposite corner, its force sending a cascade of snow and debris into the air. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then the groaning of twisted metal and the hiss of ruptured steam pipes filled the night.

“Son of a bitch,” Casey muttered, pushing himself up from the icy pavement. His ribs screamed in protest, and his palms burned where the cold had bitten through his gloves.

Austin and Kyle rushed to him, their faces tight with fear. “Are you okay?” Austin asked, his voice trembling.

“I’m fine,” Casey grunted, brushing snow and grit from his coat. He glanced at the wreckage. The truck’s cab was embedded in the five-and-dime’s facade, smoke curling from under the hood. The crimson glow of the driver’s eyes had vanished, but Casey wasn’t convinced it was over.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, straightening and ejecting the empty clip from his gun. He shook his head as he slid the weapon back into its holster. “To the station.”

A couple hard fought blocks later, the group stumbled in, snow swirling in behind them before Casey slammed the heavy glass door shut. The air inside was heavy and still, carrying none of the usual hum of activity or the soft crackle of police radios. Instead, the only sounds were their labored breathing and the faint whistle of the storm outside.

Casey flicked the light switch near the door. Nothing happened. He muttered a curse under his breath and turned to the kids.

“Stay close,” he ordered, pulling his flashlight from his belt and clicking it on.

The beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the front desk and rows of filing cabinets. Papers were scattered across the floor, fluttering slightly in the draft from the storm. Casey’s stomach churned. This wasn’t right.

“We need to gear up,” he said, motioning them toward the supply room at the back of the station. “Grab anything useful—flashlights, batteries, ammo if you see it. But stay together.”

The kids nodded, their faces pale but resolute. Casey led them deeper into the station, the beam of his flashlight sweeping over overturned chairs and a shattered coffee mug near the break room door. The heavy stillness was oppressive, and every creak of the floorboards underfoot set their nerves on edge.

When they reached the supply locker, Casey grabbed a box of shotgun shells and began reloading his weapon. He felt around in his pocket, and felt the pocketwatch. He set it down on the desk, then handed flashlights to Olivia, Austin and Kyle. The latter two looking expectantly at the spare revolver and shotgun.

“Can either of you handle a gun?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

Kyle nodded nervously. “Dad’s taken me to the range. I’m decent.”

“By that he means his dad takes him to the arcade where he shoots zombies,” Austin quipped, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kyle.

Casey couldn’t help but see the ironic paralell to whatever nightmare they were locked in. But that didn’t change the fact neither of these boys had any place using a real handgun without training. Casey grabbed a spare bright orange flare gun instead.

“The hell is this?”, Kyle hissed indignant.

“In case of emergency,” he smirked, not able to help himself. “Just keep the safety on.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kyle said.

Olivia, standing nearby, checked her flashlight, her jaw tight with determination. “What now?” she asked.

“Now we—” Casey stopped mid-sentence as his flashlight beam caught something near the hallway. A dark smear glistened on the floor, trailing away toward the chief’s office.

“Stay here,” he said sharply, but Olivia was already moving forward, her own flashlight trembling as she followed the blood trail.

“Olivia!” Casey hissed, but she didn’t stop. He had no choice but to follow, shotgun raised and ready.

The trail led them to the slightly ajar door of Chief Frank Hart’s office. Casey pushed it open with the barrel of his shotgun, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside, the beam of his flashlight revealed a horrifying sight.

Chief Hart was slumped against the wall, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Blood soaked his uniform, pooling on the floor beneath him. His face was pale, his lips trembling as he tried to speak.

“Chief!” Casey rushed to his side, kneeling down to support him. “What happened?”

Hart’s eyes flickered open, unfocused but struggling to find Casey’s face. “Travis,” he rasped, the word barely audible. “It... it was Travis Johnson.”

Casey’s stomach dropped. “Travis? He did this to you?”

Hart gave a faint nod, his hand twitching toward Casey’s arm. “Not... himself. Eyes... red. Couldn’t stop him... Kept going on about the needing to…to,”

“To Seethe…” Casey finished for him.

Hart nodded. “You were right son… I’m sorry.”

“Just hang in there Frank. We’ll get you help.”

“Just go after him. Don’t—let him hurt anyone else…”

His head slumped forward. Casey shook him gently, then harder, but Hart’s breathing had slowed to nothing. He was gone.

Casey closed his eyes briefly, his jaw clenching. Then he looked up at Olivia, who was staring at Hart’s lifeless body in stunned silence.

“We have to go,” he said, his voice grim.

The group moved quickly toward the exit. Casey led them back into the biting wind, the storm raging with renewed fury. Snow whipped across the empty streets, obscuring their view, and the distant twinkle of Christmas lights felt like a cruel joke.

The cruiser sat parked out front, its roof already covered in a layer of snow. As they piled in, Casey scanned the area, his senses on high alert. The decorations lining Main Street flickered in and out of focus, the cheerful wreaths and garlands a jarring contrast to the blood and chaos they’d just witnessed.

Casey slammed the cruiser into gear. The tires skidded briefly before catching traction, and they tore down the empty streets. His eyes darted between the road and the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see glowing red eyes materialize out of the snowstorm.

It was time to end this. One way, or another.

Chapter 41

They skidded into the high school parking lot, the headlights of the cruiser illuminating the round brake lights of Aly’s VW Beetle, and further into the lot by the brick of the gymnasium exterior, Joe’s silver pick-up near the frost and snow laden array of demolition equipment and yellow construction vehicles.

“Aly,” Casey breathed.

Casey slammed on the brakes, and he opened the door and jumped out. The kids followed suit.

“Everyone stay here,” he said, stepping toward the double entry doors.

“What if you need backup?”, Kyle asked.

“Let’s hope I won’t.”

Olivia stepped forward as if to argue or assert herself. Instead, she said, “We’ll be here. Just—find them.”

Casey nodded, and walked inside, flashlight in one hand and pistol in the other.

The hallway was dark, only a dim erratically flickering series of emergency lights and the red EXIT signs at either end. Glass, drywall and random debris crunched beneath his boots, and he came to the middle of hall, and turned left into the gymnasium doors.

The first thing Casey noticed shining his flashlight in, were the piles of bones on tarps. Pieces of what looked like whole skeletons, but picked apart. The skulls all notably missing. There were animal bones—deer he thought. A musty stench hung along with the copper tang of old blood.

Then he saw the gaping hole in the gymnasium floor. It could have been part of the demolition, but it looked oddly haphazard and out of place. He walked further in, guiding his flashlight over it. Inside was another body, skeletal and intact—piece of cloth wrapped tight around the mouth. One eye was missing, the body alarmingly intact. Almost mummified.

A rustling prompted Casey to jolt and look up.

Joe stood there facing him, his right hand stained with blood, his brow low and flat, staring into nothing but at the same time right at Casey—or right through him.

“Joe,” Casey breathed. “What is this?”

He stood there, silent, unmoving, and the closer Casey stepped he saw the darkness beneath his friend’s eyes, and something else in them. A glint of red.

Casey glanced left, and saw Millie laying there in a nightgown, her arm bleeding.

“What the hell did you do?”, Casey yelled. He moved for Millie. That was when Joe raised his head, and when he did a piercing head splitting static made Casey double over, his head feeling like it was in a vice.

“This can’t be stopped.” It was Joe’s voice, but another one too. Deeper and wrathful, laced with whispers of many others.

Casey righted himself, the initial brunt of the hiss ebbing.

“It ends tonight,” Casey said.

Joe glanced at the gun in Casey’s hand. “Are you going to shoot me Casey? Your best friend?” The deeper voice in Joe took over more now.

“I don’t want to hurt you Joe. But I’m getting Millie out of here, and I’m going to bring you in.”

Joe snorted. Then laughed. Then bellowed out more laughter which turned into a scream that sent a chill running down Casey’s spine, his eyes wide and full of rage, full of red, wet streams down his friend’s gaunt and stubbled cheeks.

Casey ran toward Millie, and Joe made for Casey in slow deliberate strides. Casey trained his gun on Joe.

“Don’t make me do this,” Casey whispered.

Joe didn’t respond. He kept moving toward him, a jagged edged, ancient looking knife in his grip.

“Drop the knife!”, Casey yelled, his throat tight and voice desperate to do anything but to have to shoot his friend.

His finger flicked to the trigger.

Joe seized, clasped at his neck and stumbled, and Casey saw the figure behind him.

Aly stood there with a syringe in her hand as Joe tumbled down to the ground.

“You can’t… stop this..”, Joe hissed. “No one can.”

His eyes closed.

Casey swore, then ran to Aly, who was shaking. “What happened?”

She shook her head, and started sobbing. “I was supposed to meet Erin today and when she didn’t show I thought I should check on her. Found her at the house unconscious, Millie and Joe nowhere. The power was out and the phone line was cut so I was driving to the station for help, when I saw Joe’s truck and—”

Casey put his hands on her shoulders to settle her. “It’s alright now. Come on.” He knelt down to Millie, checked her breathing and pulse. “Help me get her up.”

They pulled Millie to her feet, Aly taking her beneath her other arm. Millie groaned, her eyes fluttering open, and mumbled something.

A blood red glow slowly filled the room.

Casey turned, and saw the source.

From the hole in the middle of the room, a red glowing orb arose, it’s crimson mirror sheen bending and blurring the air around it, wisps of iridescent mist swirling. Casey’s mind shot to the day Millie had gone missing. The strangeness of the mist in the woods.

It hovered there, the static hiss returning, and he winced against it. He felt Millie tense too, and she whispered something.

“Ska…dega…mutc...”

The orb starting to shift and shimmer, the piercing sound of the hiss growing louder as Aly looked on wide-eyed. It shot suddenly across the room in an eye-blink, straight into the effigy of bone and rotting hide.

There was a silence heavier than lead, until red light shimmered throughout the figure, and it jutted and jerked into motion, raising itself up onto two skeletal legs, long claws of red glowing bone protruding from crooked arms, and the surreal array of skulls and antlers a scarlet emanation in each eye socket.

Casey did and said all he could think of.

“Run.”

Chapter 42

Olivia pressed her hands to the icy window of the cruiser, her breath fogging the glass as she strained to see through the swirling snow. The red glow emanating from the high school windows pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and sinister.

“What’s taking so long?” Kyle muttered, bouncing his knee anxiously.

“Maybe they’re trying to find another way out,” Austin suggested, though his voice betrayed doubt.

Eli was silent, his gaze fixed on the school. Olivia clenched her fists, the unease in her chest growing heavier with each passing second. The storm howled around them near the empty side street, dead Christmas lights from the outage swinging wildly in the wind.

Then she saw movement at the entrance.

“There!” she yelled, shoving the door open and stepping into the storm.

A figure stumbled out of the side entrance, clutching something—or someone. As they drew closer, Olivia realized it was Aly, bloodied and pale, struggling to carry Millie’s limp form. Casey appeared behind them, his face drawn and tense, his gun gripped tightly in his hand.

“They’re here!” Olivia shouted back at the others, who spilled out of the cruiser and rushed toward the trio.

Aly collapsed into the snow as Olivia reached her, dropping to her knees to help. Millie’s gown was smeared with blood, her face ashen, but her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

“What happened?” Olivia asked frantically, her hands hovering over Aly’s trembling shoulders.

Aly tried to respond, but before she could, the air split with a deafening crack. The front doors of the high school exploded outward in a hail of glass and twisted metal.

Olivia froze.

The creature that emerged was like nothing she’d ever imagined. Towering above the snow, its grotesque form was a fusion of deer and human remains, its jagged antlers encircled by skulls, their empty sockets glowing red. Its skeletal claws scraped against the ground as it moved, emitting a shriek that tore through the night—a sound of grief, rage, and unending hunger.

“Oh my God,” Kyle whispered, stumbling backward.

Casey didn’t hesitate. He stood, placing himself between the monster and the kids. “Get to the road! Now!”

Casey shouldn’t have known what he was looking at, and yet somehow he did. This monstrous amalgam of bone and skin, crowned with a deer skull and flanked by human ones, every socket blazing red like hot embers. When it screamed, its voice carried the pain of countless souls and mingling griefs and wrath.

This was the thing that had been haunting Westville. It was the source of everything.

He raised his pistol in a two-handed stance, his heart hammering faster than the gun’s hammer mechanism as he fired. He emptied the clip. If any bullets hit their mark, the creature didn’t show it, apart swirls of irraedecesant air mingling with the snow, like the sheen of oil in water. Just like the trans-dimensional distortion Heiser had described. This thing was between worlds. Halfway between reality and some other liminal space. He wouldn’t be able to hurt it. But from what he’d seen it do to the building it sure as hell seemed to be able to hurt him.

It tore toward him, its long, skeletal limbs crossing the parking lot in monstrous strides. Casey turned for a split second to see the kids and Aly scrambling toward the road. They were clear.

Good.

“Here!” he shouted, waving his empty pistol in the air. “Come on, you ugly bastard!”

The Skadegamutc’s glowing eyes locked onto him, and Casey darted to the side as its claws swiped down, shattering the pavement with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow nearly knocked him off balance, but he righted himself and sprinted toward the river. He slipped on the icy pavement, catching himself just in time. The creature was gaining with every stride, its unnatural limbs propelling it forward. Casey’s chest burned, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he pushed toward the boat launch.

If he could get it onto the ice, maybe—just maybe—he’d be able to stop this thing or slow it down enough.

The dock came into view, the aluminum glinting under the faint light of the storm. Casey sprinted onto it, the structure creaking under his weight. He turned, ready to face the monster again. But it wasn’t there. His heart stopped as he scanned the parking lot, the beast’s glowing eyes no longer visible. There was only a strange oil-like afterimage swirling in the air. It seemed impossible. Something that big couldn’t dissapear entirely that quickly, could it?

Then, A diesel engine growled to life close off to his right as bright headlights pierced the snow. He raised his arm over his eyes, just in time to see the winter dark silhouette of a bulldozer roaring toward him.

Olivia had only driven a car a couple times in her whole life. Neither of those times had it been a police cruiser or during a blizzard.

She skidded and slipped all over the street, much to the protest of the others in the back, her sister holding cradling Millie’s head and Austin holding her friend’s legs awkwardly in place so she wouldn’t go flying. Kyle was shouting things she mostly couldn’t understand laced with several creative choice words combined that she had to give fleeting credit for.

“That thing was coming for us! Did you see—I mean holy shit what the hell was that?”

“Skadegamutc,” Olivia said flatly but louder than she meant to, as they carreened over a curb and into the station parking lot.

“We have to get her inside!” Aly yelled. Austin opened his door and together they pulled Millie’s limp and pale frame out of the backseat. There wasn’t time to think, but if there had been Olivia would have been thinking about her friend looked like the corpse she never had been. She wouldn’t lose her now. Not after everything.

They made their way to the station garage side entry door they’d come through earlier over treacherous icy cement.

The screech came sudden and shrill, and Olivia’s heart leapt into her throat.

She turned and saw it there behind them, too many eye sockets burning red in the night, the cruel crown of twisted antlers basking in the crimson glow. It’s skeletal arms raised, claws reaching into the frigid dark.

“Go!”, Olivia screamed, some madness inside of her impelling her to step toward the thing.

Kyle stepped up right next to her, raised the bright orange flare gun as he winced, and fired off a blinding bright projectile.

It struck true, and the creature writhed and screamed what sounded like a hundred human screams at once, all agony and rage echoing in the cold silence. The sparking fire of the flare spread for a moment across the thing’s torso, until with all the suddeness it had appeared, it flashed from view right before there eyes, leaving behind only a glistening ireidescence.

“That worked,” Olivia said matter of fact, out of breath and shaking all over.

“Uh-huh,” was all Kyle could manage in response.

Aly came up from behind them and pulled Olivia inside. Ahead Austin and Eli had Millie over their shoulders. They got her settled inside on a holding cell bed.

Aly knelt down, examining the fresh cut on her arm. It was still bleeding, and Aly started wrapping a bandage around it to stave it off. Millie was pale, quavering, and her head was darting back and forth, her eyes closed but fluttering beneath the lids.

“It’s like she’s having a nightmare,” Austin breathed.

More like still having one, Olivia thought.

Eli stepped forward to help Aly, who was struggling to get the bleeding to stop. “Here,” he said, “someone hand me a shirt.”

Austin took his sweater off and removed the t-shirt beneath, handing it to Eli.

“Tournakit,” he said, as went to work.

“The first-aid badge alluded me,” Kyle said. “Nice work.”

Eli beamed half-heartedly, the weight and terror of the night and the monster looming outside in the storm hanging over them. Along with—

“I’m going after Casey,” Aly said.

Olivia nodded. “I’m coming too.”

“No. You stay here with Millie. Keep them safe.”

“But—”

“Please Liv. She needs you.”

Olivia looked back at Millie, and knew Aly was right.

“Be careful.”

Aly nodded. Kyle caught her as she ran out, and offered her the flare gun. “It worked before. Maybe burning it would work again.”

Aly nodded again, but gestured to the gun. “One shot in those.” She went to the storage locker across the hall and grabbed a fresh one along with a couple road flares.

“Right,” Kyle mumbled, cursing himself.

Olivia moved over to Millie, her movements more erratic now, sweat beading down her forward and fast whispering murmurs coming from her lips.

“It’s time… for the guilty ones… to pay.”

Chapter 43

Snow swirled violently across the riverbank, each flake a jagged shard against Casey’s skin as he sprinted toward the Slate River.

His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, mingling with the howling wind. Behind him, the roar of the bulldozer’s diesel engine tore through the night, a guttural growl that refused to be drowned out by the storm.

Casey glanced over his shoulder, the headlights of the massive machine lighting up swirling snow. Travis Johnson sat in the cab, his red-glowing eyes burning with an unnatural fury, his hands gripping the controls with inhuman determination.

“Come on,” Casey muttered, his boots skidding on the icy path leading to the frozen river. He had to make it. There was no way he could outrun the bulldozer forever.

The river’s surface stretched out before him, a deceptive expanse of smooth, snow-dusted ice. He hesitated for a split second. It wasn’t safe. But then again, neither was staying here.

The blade tore through the snow behind him, throwing up chunks of ice and dirt. Casey made his decision. He darted onto the frozen river, the ice groaning beneath his boots with each step. The bulldozer followed, its massive treads crunching onto the edge of the ice. The weight of the machine sent cracks spiderwebbing outward, but Travis didn’t stop. He pressed forward, the engine’s growl growing louder as the bulldozer picked up speed.

Casey ran faster, his boots slipping as the ice trembled under the weight of the machine. His heart thundered in his chest. He didn’t have a plan—only the desperate hope that the ice would give out beneath the bulldozer before it reached him.

A deafening crack split the air, echoing across the river. Casey risked a glance back and saw the ice buckling beneath the bulldozer’s front treads. The massive machine lurched, its weight driving it downward. Travis didn’t react. His glowing eyes remained fixed on Casey as the bulldozer tilted forward, its blade slamming into the ice.

With a final, earsplitting groan, the ice gave way. The bulldozer plunged into the freezing water, the engine sputtering and choking as it disappeared beneath the surface. For a moment, Travis clung to the edge of the ice, his crimson gaze locked on Casey. Then, with a guttural hiss, he sank into the black depths.

Casey staggered back, his chest heaving. The cold bit into his lungs, but he forced himself to keep moving, his boots crunching through the snow as he made his way back to the parking lot.

As he reached the edge of the lot, a hand clamped onto his shoulder, yanking him backward. Casey twisted, his fist flying instinctively, but it was caught mid-swing. Travis stood before him, water dripping from his soaked clothes, his eyes blazing brighter than ever.

“You can’t kill me,” Travis growled, his voice a guttural rasp that seemed to echo from somewhere far away.

Before Casey could respond, Travis shoved him forward. He stumbled, his knees hitting the frozen ground. When he looked up, the towering form of the Skadegamutc loomed above him.

Its grotesque body seemed to pulse with life, the red glow emanating from its many eyes casting monstrous shadows across the snow. Its claws glistened in the light, each one as long as a man’s arm.

Casey braced himself, his fists clenching as he prepared for the inevitable strike. But the creature didn’t move toward him. Instead, it turned its baleful gaze to Travis.

“No!” Travis shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. “I did what you wanted!”

The Skadegamutc raised one skeletal claw and drove it straight through Travis’s chest. Any scream he made was short-lived, cut off as the creature began to draw the crimson light from him. Casey watched in horrified fascination as the glow faded from Travis’s eyes, his body shriveling and withering until nothing remained but a skeletal husk. The Skadegamutc dropped him, the brittle remains crumbling into the snow.

Casey staggered to his feet, his heart pounding as the creature turned its attention back to him. Its many glowing eyes locked onto him, and it began to move, its claws scraping against the ground.

The roar of an engine shattered the tension. Casey barely had time to dive out of the way as the cruiser careened into the creature, its massive form slamming into a snowbank and a pile of rubble from the nearby building. The impact sent a shower of snow and debris into the air, momentarily burying the Skadegamutc.

Casey scrambled to his feet, turning to see Aly behind the wheel of the cruiser, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. Olivia sat in the back seat, her face pale but determined.

“Get in!” Aly shouted, throwing the passenger door open.

Casey didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed into the back seat, grabbing the shotgun from the floor. “Go!”

The cruiser sped off, skidding onto the icy street.

Chapter 44

“What’s wrong with her?”, Olivia shouted, looking to Eli as Millie continued to thrash and writhe, yelling things that they could half understand.

“I—I don’t know…”, he gulped. “The bleeding is stopped but maybe she’s been injected with something, or had some sort of infection.”

The poor boy looked like he might cry, and Olivia found she shared the sentiment. She leaned in toward her friend and grabbed a hold of her shoulders. Millie growled when she did, and her eyes flashed open, her teeth gritting as they revealed red.

Olivia’s chest clenched and her stomach felt sick. She heard the whispers. The static hiss.

Then she realized.

“She’s connected to it.”

“Connected to what?”, Austin asked, shivering next to her and still shirtless, having his sweater and shirt caked with Millie’s blood.

“The Skadegamutc. She.brought it back.” Olivia swallowed and leaned in closer to her friend. “Mil, it’s me. It’s Liv.”

Millie snarled, her head jerking side to side.

“You don’t—” Olivia drew a deep breath, “You don’t have to live in this nightmare anymore. You can fight it.”

But could Casey and her sister fight that thing?

Millie’s body convulsed again, her back arching off the cot as though an invisible force was trying to tear her apart. Olivia gripped her shoulders tighter, her knuckles whitening. The faint static hiss that had been haunting them grew louder, the sound filling the room with an electric charge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Austin, pale but resolute, stepped closer. He glanced at the glowing watch on the desk, then at Millie. “It’s the pact. Blood bound their family to the Skadegamutc. If we break that connection—”

“How?” Olivia snapped, the roar of the static nearly drowning her out.

Millie’s eyes flew open, crimson light pouring out in streaks that painted the room in eerie red. Her lips parted, but when she spoke, the voice was not her own. It came in overlapping tones—childlike, mournful, wrathful—a chorus of souls entangled in torment.

“Blood binds the guilty… blood makes us innocent…”

The air grew heavier, oppressive, like a weight pressing down on their chests. Millie’s gaze locked onto the pocket watch. Her hand shot out with unnatural speed, fingers curling around the tarnished metal. Her blood smeared across its surface, and the ancient timepiece glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the hissing static.

“Millie, stop!” Olivia cried, but before she could intervene, Millie’s scream cut through the air like a jagged blade.

The scream wasn’t just sound—it was a wave of force. Olivia and the others stumbled backward, clutching at their ears as the station lights exploded, plunging them into chaos. The pressure in the room spiked, as though reality itself was tearing at the seams. Windows shattered outward in violent bursts, sending shards of glass cascading into the snowstorm outside.

“Millie!” Olivia yelled over the deafening roar. She lunged forward, grabbing her friend’s hand despite the searing heat radiating from the watch. “I’m here! You’re not doing this alone!”

The crimson glow in Millie’s eyes intensified, bright enough to burn like a second sun. Her scream deepened, layered with anguish and fury, reverberating through the walls. The air blurred, warping like heatwaves in the dead of summer. The sound of the static reached an unbearable crescendo, and then—silence.

For a long moment, the only sound was Olivia’s ragged breathing. The pressure lifted, leaving the room eerily still. Millie collapsed back onto the cot, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The glow in her eyes faded, replaced by exhaustion and pain. Her fingers loosened their grip on the watch, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy clink.

Olivia leaned in close, brushing sweat-dampened hair from Millie’s face. “Mil… are you okay?”

Millie’s voice was barely a whisper. “It’s… here.”

Eli, who had been pressed against the far wall, straightened shakily.

Millie turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with Olivia’s. “It—can’t hide anymore.”

Austin’s face paled, his voice trembling. “It’s fully in our world, does that mean we can…?”

Eli’s eyes widened as the realization clicked. “Yes! That’s it—it’s vulnerable now. No more astral plane, no more half-existence. It’s here, in our reality, bound by its laws.”

Austin nodded slowly, his voice steadier now. “In our world, it can be killed. Just like anything else.”

“With fire,” Kyle said.

Olivia stared at them, her chest tightening. She radioed the cruiser.

For a moment, Casey dared to hope they’d left the creature behind.

But then the snowbank exploded outward, and the Skadegamutc emerged, its skeletal form rising into the night like something out of a nightmare.

“Drive faster!” Casey yelled, racking a shell into the shotgun.

Aly swerved around a corner, the tires barely gripping the icy road. The creature was gaining on them, its glowing eyes piercing through the storm.

Casey rolled down the window, bracing the shotgun against his shoulder as he took aim. The first shot rang out, the recoil slamming into his shoulder. It barely slowed the creature down.

“Come on,” he muttered, racking another shell. “Come and get us.”

Aly’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel as the cruiser fishtailed down Main Street, headlights slicing through the storm. Casey sat beside her, his shotgun resting in his lap, reloading with trembling hands. His ribs screamed in protest every time the vehicle jolted, a reminder of the Skadegamutc’s earlier assault.

“Keep it steady!” Casey shouted over the roar of the engine and the howling wind.

“I’m trying!” Aly snapped, jerking the wheel to avoid a drift of snow that had overtaken the street. Behind them, the shadow of the Skadegamutc loomed, its towering form barely visible through the swirling flakes. A red glow pulsed in its eye sockets, illuminating the skeletal antlers jutting from its grotesque head.

The creature’s guttural screech cut through the storm, rattling the windows of the cruiser. It moved with terrifying speed, its claws tearing through snowbanks as it gained on them. Casey twisted in his seat, bracing the shotgun against the doorframe. He aimed and fired. The blast lit up the storm for an instant, the buckshot hitting one of the skulls near its head. It cracked and splintered, but the creature didn’t stop.

“You hit it?” Aly asked, her voice tight with fear.

“Yeah,” Casey said, racking another round. “But it’s still coming.”

The cruiser barreled down Main Street, the Christmas lights strung between lampposts casting fleeting patches of warmth against the icy darkness, all of which were pulsing wildly between dim and blinding, as if a constant unstable power surge was flowing everwhere.

The street ahead was empty, eerily quiet save for the howling wind and the cruiser’s engine. Casey glanced backward and out each side of the vehicle, their macabre pursuer nowhere to be seen.

“Where is it?”, Aly asked, voice trembling as they pulled into the parking lot of Fischer’s.

Casey tightened his grip on the shotgun, his eyes scanning the darkness. They got out the cruiser slowly, the cold night air and blur of snow feeling less like any sort of covering and more like any giving flake might materialize into skin, bone and claw.

The radio squelched, and Casey reached inside and grabbed it, thinking that finally some backup might be on the way.

“You guys hear me?” Olivia’s voice.

“We’re here.”

“It’s fire. You can kill it now. But it needs to be burned!”

A deafening screech cut through the night, and their eyes were both drawn up to the gleaming white steeple above the brick of the United Methodist Church, one long arm and it’s six claws wrapped around and scraping into the structure like a knife into bone. It’s scarlet gaze froze Casey with terror, until he managed to snap out of it and push Aly away and toward the restaurant entrance.

“Inside!,” Casey yelled.

He raised the shotgun as the creature leapt down from the steeple, skidding chaotically down the slant of the roof in a scrape of shingles and snow, landing with a crash on the parking and then darted with terrifying speed across the road.

Casey squeezed off two shots before spinning and running into the restarant door. He slammed it shut pressing himself against it, only to be flung backward as the thing slammed into it, the skeletal arm and claw reaching in as Casey scrambled back. upright. It was too big to get in and reach them, but its other arm broke through the glass clasping and stabbing at the ground.

Aly pulled on Casey’s arm, near hyperventalition as she breathed and swore.

It pulled its arms away, out of the door and back through the shattered glass of the window. They heard it moving around, looking for a way in.

“How about that idea?”, Casey said.

She swallowed, pulling out two road flares. “Kyle used that flare gun, and it hurt it.”

“And the Skadegamutc can only be truly killed by being purged with fire…” Casey recited, remembering the passage from the book that Olivia had been on about all those weeks ago.

Aly headed for the kitchen and spurred into motion, turning on the stovetops. They clicked and hissed out gas, the alarming smell killing the restaurant.

“What are you doing?”, Casey asked.

“Making a fire.”

Just then a harsh crack and creak from above them. The rooftop groaned wherever creature stepped.

Multi-colored christmas lights that hung from the awning flickered and went dark. The ceiling collapsed, a heap of gray skin and jagged bones breaking through, the anglular skull and its maw snapping, the array of antlers breaking the glass display cases of clowns.

Casey raised his shotgun but hesistated. The gas was filling the room all the more.

Casey grabbed Aly’s arm. “Get out the back, get as far away as you can.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“And I’m not letting you die.”

A deafening shatter and crash came through the door of the restaurant, shards of glass, wood and rended metal scattering across the tiled floor like jagged stars.

The Skadegamutc’s shadow loomed immense and unnatural against the backdrop of the snowstorm outside, antlers stabbing into the ceiling, twisting as though it contained a dozen writhing figures. The thing’s claws scraped against the walls, leaving deep gouges in the wood paneling, and its skeletal face split in a toothy grin that seemed to stretch wider than any human jaw could manage. Casey barely had time to raise his shotgun before it lunged.

The blast of the shotgun reverberated through the air, but the buckshot seemed to slow the creature for only a moment. It howled—a sound that reverberated in the chest and churned the stomach.

A claw lashed out, striking the shotgun from Casey’s hands and sending it clattering across the floor.

Before he could react, its claws were on him, pinning him against the wall like an insect mounted in a collector’s case. Pain lanced through his shoulder—the same shoulder that had been stabbed by Crawley—as the talons pierced his jacket and bit into flesh, warm blood soaking the fabric.

Looking into the deer skull with it’s natural dead grin and those leering red sockets he sensed it reveling in satisfaction. It knew, somehow. And he heard it then…

The guilty ones… You are the guilty ones…

“Get out of my head!”, Casey yelled, and struggled, his legs kicking against the air as he tried to gain some leverage, but the creature was unyielding.

Its other hand reached for him, bony fingers curling as though to crush his skull, when Aly’s voice broke through the din.

“Let him go, you bastard!” Aly stepped forward, gripping a length of broken chair leg like a club. Her face was pale, but her eyes were blazing with determination. She swung the makeshift weapon with all her strength, aiming for the creature’s head.

It reacted instantly, the free arm swiping through the air, striking Aly with a force that sent her flying backward into a row of booths. She crumpled to the floor with a gasp of pain, the chair leg rolling out of her hand.

“Aly!” Casey shouted, his voice raw with panic.

He thrashed harder against the creature’s grip, but it was like struggling against iron.

The Skadegamutc’s skull-like face turned back to him, its hollow eye sockets glowing with a sickly, red light. Its grip tightened, and Casey could feel his breath being crushed out of him.

Then, from the shadows near the kitchen, a figure emerged.

Joe Thompson stepped into the light, his face pale but his expression set with grim resolve. His eyes flickered with the same red glow that filled the Skadegamutc’s sockets, but it was different somehow—fighting against the light instead of succumbing to it. A strange, crackling red aura surrounded him, mist-like tendrils curling from his skin. In his hands, he held a fire ax, the blade glinting in the dim light.

“This is over,” Joe growled, his voice rough and layered with an unnatural echo.

The Skadegamutc hesitated, its head tilting as though it recognized him. Joe didn’t wait for it to react further. With a roar that was both human and something else entirely, he swung the fire ax in a brutal arc.

The blade connected with the creature’s arm, severing it at the elbow with a wet, sickening crunch. The Skadegamutc screeched, a piercing, inhuman sound, and its severed arm fell to the floor in a heap of blackened, writhing sinew.

Casey dropped to the floor, gasping for air and clutching his bleeding shoulder. Joe stepped over him, standing between Casey and the creature. The Skadegamutc’s nine-foot frame reeled, clutching its stump, but its hollow gaze fixed on Joe with renewed fury.

“Casey,” Joe said without turning around. His voice was calm, almost detached, despite the chaos. “Take Aly and go. Get out of here.”

“Joe, I can’t—” Casey began, but Joe cut him off, his tone brooking no argument.

“Take care of my Millie girl.” Joe’s eyes met Casey’s for a brief moment, and in that instant, Casey saw everything. The guilt that Joe carried for what he’d allowed to happen. The love he felt for his daughter. The knowledge that this was the only way he could make amends. There would be no coming back for Joe.

Casey tried to rise, tried to argue, but Joe turned and shoved him with supernatural strength. The force sent Casey sprawling across the floor toward Aly, who was beginning to stir. Before Casey could get up, Joe snatched the road flare from Aly’s fallen bag and turned back to face the Skadegamutc.

“Go!” Joe shouted, his voice filled with authority and something else—a primal, otherworldly power that left no room for hesitation.

Casey scrambled to his feet, grabbing Aly under the arms and dragging her toward the back exit. He cast one last glance over his shoulder as Joe struck the flare against his thigh, igniting it in a blaze of bright, red-orange light.

The last thing Casey saw before he shoved the door open was Joe charging the Skadegamutc, the flare blazing in one hand and the fire ax in the other. The creature’s screeching howl followed them into the night.

The explosion came seconds later.

The force of it knocked Casey and Aly off their feet, the heat of the blast rolling over them even in the frigid air.

Casey shielded Aly with his body as debris rained down around them, the snowstorm turning into a swirling maelstrom of ash and embers. He turned his head to look back at the restaurant, now a towering inferno. Flames licked at the night sky, casting flickering shadows across the snow-covered ground.

Out of the flames stumbled a figure. Its skeletal frame wreathed in fire, staggered forward. Its movements were jerky and uncoordinated, its once-formidable presence now reduced to a shambling husk.

Casey rose to his feet, shotgun in hand, the barrel aimed at the orb. His finger tightened on the trigger, and the shotgun roared one final time. As it collapsed to its knees, its burning flesh and bone crumbled into ash and an iridescent mist.

A glowing red orb, pulsating like a heartbeat, rose from the remains of the creature. It hovered in the air for a moment, its light pulsing brighter and brighter as if searching for something, erratically shunting side to side, then shot away into the snow strewn dark.

For a few moments, there was silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames as they both looked on in shock, at the sky and at the flaming wreckage in turns.

Then, in the distance, the wail of sirens grew louder. Emergency vehicles, county sheriff’s cars, and unmarked federal SUVs arrived in a flurry of flashing lights and shouting voices. Reeves and Lochlear stepped out of one of the SUVs, their expressions grim as they surveyed the scene.

Casey stood in the snow, the shotgun still in his hands, as Aly leaned against him for support. The two locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them.

As Reeves and Lochlear approached, Casey lowered the shotgun and looked back at the burning remains of the restaurant. Somewhere in the flames, was Joe. What remained of him burning. The rest of him at peace.

“She’ll be alright,” he whispered to no one. “She will.”

All that had happened in the last hours shot through his brain as he watched dying flames doused by firetrucks. Casey held onto the hope that—for once—the nightmare had truly ended.

But when he caught Lochlear’s solemn gaze from across the lot, he knew the relative peace in this afterglow wouldn’t last near long enough.