They Feed

by Jason Parent

  You worm. Mark had seen her. Abigail was sure of it, and she had nowhere left to go. She ran to the motor home and tried the door. It was locked.

  “Let me in, you asshole!” she shouted, pounding on the door. The rustling grew louder. The creatures drew nearer, their screeching carrying before them, toward the warmth of human blood.

  They poured in from everywhere.

  “Open the door!” Abigail cried. The sound of an engine, then a loud crash, came from somewhere nearby on the trail. She pounded harder on the camper door.

  “Sorry, this one’s occupied. Better try the next one.”

  The unearthly voices of the pursuing monsters pulsed through her like the blood in her veins. Sweat and tears fought to see which could blind her first. A gunshot rang loud and clear and close. Her heart beat at her chest as if it wanted what she wanted—to escape.

  Not into the camper. Not toward what’s behind it. Not back down the trail.

  Into the woods again. That was her only option, thanks to Mark. Abigail wasn’t the violent type, but she swore that if they both somehow made it through the night, she would hunt down Mark and kill him. But that was something she could think about later. There was no time for it now.

  The leeches were coming.

  Better to just run.

  Chapter 19

  Dakota spit dirt from her mouth. Her tongue tingled with pain. She could feel the imprints of her teeth in it after her chin’s collision with the ground. The ache dulled her other senses. She shook her head on straight. She hadn’t seen who had tripped her, but she could make a fairly educated guess.

  Scrambling to her feet, full of rage and spitfire, Dakota was ready to hunt down that bastard Mark. He wouldn’t be leaving those woods alive. Her hostility eased a bit when she felt hands helping her up.

  “Tyler?” Dakota couldn’t believe it—she was happy to see him. After all she had done to him, Tyler wouldn’t leave her behind. “Thanks,” she said softly. The dark hid her blushing cheeks, but she couldn’t hide the tone of humility in the one word she’d offered him. It sounded more like an apology than an expression of gratitude.

  “Don’t mention it,” Tyler said, dragging her forward. His fingers were harsh around her arm, ripping her from the ground. “No time for talk. Move!”

  If time had slowed after her fall, it now shot into overdrive like that moment in every war film after a grenade explodes and the slow-motion sequence ends. The sounds of human suffering bellowed in her ears. Reality, in all its harshness, had returned like a knife to her stomach.

  Tyler would know a little something about that. He should have left her in his dust. Yet there he ran, glued to her side, urging her forward.

  The others were gone, all except Bo, whose wails at last gave way to the Pale Rider, come to collect another soul for the underworld. Bo was fortunate that it was over, anyway. No more malevolent terrors awaited him in the woods. Maybe it was worse where he had gone, but somehow, Dakota doubted it.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “Not a clue.” Tyler coughed. He panted his words out between breaths. “But… you don’t want to… go back… that way.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder.

  “The trail is this way!” Merwin shouted somewhere in front of them. She strained to see anything beyond ten or twelve feet. The night was thick beneath wide branches fat with leaves. Come on, Merwin. Where are you?

  Tyler shifted left. Dakota followed, hoping he could see what she couldn’t. She had enough trouble trying to see the roots reaching out to trip her.

  “Go!” Merwin’s voice blasted through the air. “Follow the trail, and never stop running. Never look back!”

  “There.” Dakota pointed. “It’s Merwin!”

  Again, they adjusted their course—and nearly ran straight into a wave of hissing and slithering monsters. One crossed in front of Dakota. The filthy shit reared its ugly head back, exposing its suckers. The tentacles writhed like snakes.

  With her front foot rolling onto its toes, Dakota launched herself into the air. The globular leech folded in upon itself. Dakota thought it was ducking to avoid a collision. She thought she’d hurdle it easily.

  Not so. The creature went from shit pancake to shit bamboo shoot, stretching high with uncanny timing. Like an elastic that had been released, the creature’s elongated frame collapsed inward, resulting in a globe that rocketed straight up. It hovered in the air just long enough for Dakota’s unstoppable momentum to carry her into it.

  She saw its spine protract like cat claws. With no weapon, her knife and flashlight lost in her fall, Dakota was defenseless. Death seemed certain.

  Tyler dove into her, his arms wrapping around her waist like a safety punishing an airborne receiver. The landing would not be soft. She braced for it.

  But Tyler twisted in the air, sacrificing his own body to cushion her fall. Dakota’s weight crashed down on him, her elbow hitting something solid but the rest of her shielded from impact. Tyler had broken her fall and, by the sound of it, one or two of his ribs as well. He grunted, and it turned into a breathless wheeze.

  Kinetic energy kept them rolling, a stroke of luck that popped Dakota back onto her feet.

  Tyler did not get up so quickly. The leeches had him surrounded.

  “Run!” he yelled. He grabbed a long, cylindrical object from the forest floor. It was a flashlight, no doubt dropped in their tumble.

  Dakota planted her feet. “I’m not leaving you.”

  A greasy black circle formed around Tyler and slowly began closing in on him. The creatures seemed to be in no hurry to make their kill.

  Are they savoring it?

  Dakota forced herself to watch, to search for a way to help him. She couldn’t leave him there to die. He hadn’t left her.

  “Run,” Tyler repeated. Though his eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape, his tone was calm, almost brotherly, like the brother she had lost to him—no, to those things—six years ago. He flicked on the flashlight and spun full circle.

  The leeches shrieked in unison. Those in the forefront scrambled over their kin to get away from the light.

  Some dove toward Dakota.

  “Run,” Tyler said again. “I promise, I will be right behind you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. The creatures were nearly upon her. Without any light to guide her, she ran, her thoughts as dark as the woods that trapped her.

  But not for long. Dakota sped into a break in the trees. Her eyes adjusted to the moonlight. She had found the trail, and she took off down it.

  “Come on,” Merwin’s gravelly voice broke the silence ahead. A car’s engine sputtered. “Turn, goddamn it.”

  “Merwin.” Dakota ran up to the beat-up Chevy Malibu. “Thank God you’re alive.”

  Merwin nodded. His eyes softened for a moment, then he fixed his jaw. “Neither of us will be much longer if I don’t get this car started.”

  He turned the engine again. The Malibu burst to life.

  “Tyler?” he asked.

  Dakota shook her head.

  “Get in,” he said.

  “Wait for me,” Tyler called, shooting from the woods and quickly covering the distance.

  “Tyler!” Dakota couldn’t believe her eyes. He was alive. How had he gotten away from them all?

  The answer was simple—he hadn’t. Her celebration had come prematurely. She gasped at the sight of what followed at Tyler’s heels. With the help of the stars, she could see more of the leech monsters than she had imagined possible. They filed after one another like lemmings, the leader of the pack constantly changing.

  No, Tyler was their leader. They were all, every one of them, following him.

  “Hurry!” Dakota shouted. She ran around the car, opened the passenger side door, and climbed into the back seat, leaving the door open behind her. Merwin sat behind the wheel. Tyler barreled into the front end of the car.

  As if it were the cue he had been waiting for, Merwin clicked on
the lights then the high beams. The avalanche rolling toward them parted like the Red Sea around the car. Merwin yanked the stick shift into reverse and slammed on the gas.

  “Stop,” Dakota commanded, shaking Merwin’s shoulder. “He’s not in yet.”

  “Just giving us a little lead time, darling. He’ll make it.”

  Merwin was right. Tyler sprinted around the open door and dove in as the car’s speed continued to rise. A leech attached itself to Tyler, its tail spreading like feces across the sole of his sneaker. Its head flopped outside the car. Tyler crushed it with the door as he slammed it shut. The creature burst like a balloon filled with sewage. Its black fluid spattered Tyler and the dashboard. The remains of the leech decomposed. All that remained was a dark stain on the carpet.

  “Here. Take this.” Merwin slung his rifle onto Tyler’s lap. “You watch the front. I’ll watch the back. Dakota, you’ve got double duty, left and right.”

  Tyler took the gun in his hands. He faced forward, a sentry guarding over unlikely wards.

  “I trust you still know how to use that.”

  Merwin’s words were callous, though Dakota doubted he meant to sound that way. Tyler nodded, keeping his eyes away from Dakota. Yeah, the sting kept on stinging. She still hated guns and the people who fired them, but she hated those fucking things outside even more.

  Shit pancakes rained down onto the car as if the night sky itself were shattering. Some bounced off and rolled away. Others clung. Scratching sounds came from the roof. Two black blobs smeared the front windshield.

  Merwin steered with one hand, his body twisting so that he could see out the back window. He never flinched, no matter where the creatures’ gurgling and screeching came from. The Malibu bounced, rocked, and chugged its way down the narrow path, Merwin showing the precision of a Formula One driver in keeping the car out of the trees.

  Dakota glanced over her shoulder, thinking she could help guide Merwin, and what she saw to her right seized her attention. Several black globs, ranging from softballs to beach balls in size, rolled out of the woods like boulders caught in a landslide.

  Merwin must have seen them, too. He slammed on the gas and bulldozed his way through them. Some hit the fender and continued across the path. Others went under the car, making a rocky road even rockier. Still others ended up beneath the tires, squishing like rotten fruit beneath a mallet, which Dakota found the most satisfying. The sound brought her so much joy that she almost giggled.

  We may die tonight, but we’re taking a shitload of them with us.

  The path was clear and widening. Dakota couldn’t recall when exactly they had crossed into the camping area, but there they were. The parking lot wasn’t much farther at the rate they were traveling.

  Her gaze returned forward. All humor left her.

  Oh. My. God.

  A much bigger ball of slugs rolled toward them, a dark figure against a slightly less dark backdrop, matching speed with the Malibu just outside the range of its high beams. As it continued, other creatures joined the mass as if they were Play-Doh thrown hard enough to stick. They disappeared into the central mass, which grew bigger with every second.

  “When we turn,” Dakota said, “that thing is going to hit us.”

  “Then I will just have to drive us backward all the way down to Mexico.” Merwin didn’t turn to look. It was as if he could sense the evil forming in front of him and doubled his concentration on the road behind.

  Dakota tapped the damaged rifle, still in Tyler’s hands. “Why don’t you give it a reason to think twice about following us?”

  Tyler didn’t respond. His gaze was lost inside that terrible ball. It was just as well. Dakota doubted that it was a good idea for any of them to open a window.

  Then she saw what he was watching. The rolling ball was evolving, taking shape. A head, human in form, sprouted from the top as if it were the smallest sphere of a snowman. Shoulders came next, then arms. An upper torso rose from the black consortium. It reached out with oily fingers as if calling them home into its embrace.

  Tyler sat still. His head seemed locked in place, his gaze fixed outside the front windshield. The monsters became a man, but not any man Dakota knew. A man with a wrecking ball for legs.

  “Stop them,” the doppelgänger hissed. “We hunger.”

  “Who is it talking to?” Dakota studied the figure. “Who is that?”

  Tyler turned enough for Dakota to be able to make out the side of his face. He was crying. His knuckles were bone white as he gripped the rifle against his chest.

  “My father,” he whispered. He drove what remained of the butt of the rifle into Merwin’s head.

  Chapter 20

  Mark heard Abigail screaming outside, a few choice curse words directed his way, but he didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her. She wasn’t his responsibility. He hadn’t told her to come out to the woods. He hadn’t set those hunger-crazed nasties loose on everyone. He hadn’t done shit.

  Fuck her.

  Besides, the party mobile belonged to Mark. Well, it was his dad’s, anyway. That bitch could find her own place to hide.

  Had she really thought he’d risk his own life to save hers? He’d have to be pretty damn stupid not to be afraid of something that was trying to eat him. Fear had made Mark close that camper door, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it, at least not to himself. He didn’t want to die. He’d come to Galveston State Park to drink and trash his dad’s motor home—and, when that other bitch, Dakota, had showed up, to get his dick wet. He had not gone there to have slugs eat him.

  The night had started out so well. Mark had done a great job of getting himself liquored up. And he had cornered Dakota. The “fuck” part of his plan had been there for the taking. She didn’t want to at first, but that never stopped him. Bitches always spread their legs eventually.

  Then somehow, Mark’s best-laid plans had fallen apart, and he’d gone from having a good fuck to getting fucked in the ass faster than his boner could deflate. He considered opening the door. The mature woman outside would likely throw herself all over him, forever grateful to Mark, her savior. Grieving the loss of her husband, she’d seek comfort in any way she could. She’d practically beg for Mark’s cock.

  But that would mean opening the door. The shrieking outside was growing closer. The bitch wasn’t worth it. He removed his finger from the latch and counted Abigail dead. Mark did wish her good speed, though. The faster Abigail ran, the farther she’d lead those things away from him.

  Good luck.

  He laughed then sobered as he concentrated on his own predicament. “Why aren’t the fucking lights on, you fucking moron?” He hit the switch by the door. Nothing happened.

  He growled. “Turn on the goddamn lamp.” As much as he wanted to hit Luc, getting the lights on was Mark’s first priority.

  A desk lamp rested on a small table at the end of the sofa bed. Luc sat in the way, huddled on the floor with his knees tucked against his chest. He rocked back and forth. “I didn’t mean to leave you,” he murmured. “I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Who the fuck are you talking to?” Mark kicked his friend in his ribs. “Get a grip, man. Bo’s dead, and we will be, too, if you don’t get the fuck out of my way.”

  Luc didn’t seem to notice. He continued to sway, muttering something to his dead brother.

  The woods outside sounded alive, electric. As always, Mark had to take matters into his own hands. He cursed his useless frat mate under his breath. Luc was lost to the world, lost within himself. Fuck him.

  Mark shoved his way past Luc and seized the lamp, tore off its lampshade, and tossed it aside. He smiled as his fingers turned the small black switch. It clicked, but the light bulb remained unlit.

  It’s not plugged in. Mark grabbed the cord and pulled it out from behind the table. As he ran his fingers along the thin wire, it wasn’t long before he found the problem.

  “What the fuck?” Mark stared down at the damaged wi
re, whose plug end was missing entirely. Shrieking, gurgling, and hissing came from outside. Luc moaned in response. Mark threw his hand against the wall, screaming out his frustration and fear.

  The halogen! A giant camping lantern sat along the back wall of the camper. It was shaped like a bucket and had a metal handle that swung over the cover and cylindrical bulb. Mark lifted it off the floor. It went from heavy to light in less than a second as its rechargeable battery fell to the floor. The bottom of the light was missing. Its insides were chewed to bits. Black slime covered Mark’s hand.

  He threw the lantern against the wall. Something skittered away from where it landed.

  “Fuck!” Mark stumbled backward. He squealed in terror as he collided with something solid and alive behind him. It was Luc, who was standing now and had broken his fall.

  “Get out your flashlight,” Mark said, turning back to where he had spotted movement only a moment before. He saw nothing. He didn’t hear anything, either. The ugly, unnatural sounds emanating from the creatures outside had stopped.

  They’re inside. Mark fumbled in his jacket’s inner pocket, his fingers at last curling around the flashlight he’d claimed from Dakota after he had tripped her. The flashlight didn’t go on when his thumb clicked the button. Mark shook it, and it rattled strangely. Damned thing better not be broken. Maybe it had loosened in its fall. Fighting off panic, he twisted the top on tight and tried the switch again. The flashlight came to life.

  He aimed it at the floor. Shallow black puddles rose shrieking from the corner. They slithered through a hole in the floorboard and were gone. The suckers had scratched or eaten their way through the Winnebago’s frame.

  Mark trembled. He stepped back onto Luc’s toes. The big man didn’t budge.

  When Mark turned to face him, his flashlight following, a huge slithering mass rose high above Luc’s head. The leech’s mouth was exposed, and in it was half of Luc’s cheek. It gurgled and squirmed like a hypnotized cobra, spattering blood everywhere as its tail coiled tighter around the young man’s neck.

  Luc’s eyes were open wide, and Mark could still see life in them. The big man’s stare was lost, hopeless, the look of someone who knew his death was upon him. Luc’s arms rose. They grasped at air, groped Mark’s jacket. Luc’s expression begged for help, but Mark had none to give. He planted his heel in Luc’s gut and pushed him back. Then he shined his light directly at the thing around Luc’s neck.