Snod could see Terrell’s skin was still actively bubbling and slipping off. The DD was working, but
it still wasn’t enough. He needed more, but they were out of ammo.
What did it matter?
He was dying.
Terrell was taking his time, drinking every last drop of his blood. Snod could feel darkness beginning
to close in around him, wishing to God he could see Frankie just one more time.
Obe!
Frankie...?
Your pocket! Lorenzo says to check your fucking pocket!
Snod couldn’t move his hand very much with Terrell still holding it down, but he could move his
fingers. His pocket, yes, he could reach his pocket, and he felt...
The DD pens that Lorenzo had made!
There was no way he could pull it out to stab Terrell, but a wild idea came to him in his desperation.
He felt the tip of the syringe, turned it against his own leg through the thin fabric, and jammed it down.
Frankie... I love you...
Obe! No! What are you doing? I’m almost free, I’m...
It was like a switch had been flipped. The bond was broken again, and Snod reached for the second
syringe. He heard Terrell starting to choke and pressed the second needle into his thigh.
“What... is this?” Terrell groaned, releasing his iron grip and starting to gag.
Snod didn’t even feel it when he hit the floor. He distantly wondered if he would have a concussion
from his head being slammed around so much. He wanted to laugh, knowing potential brain damage
was the least of his problems right now.
Terrell had taken too much; he was not ever going to leave this house alive.
Though his vision was blurring, Snod could see Rees’ body a few yards away. His eyes were closed,
and he looked peaceful. Snod was certain he was dead, trying to turn his head to find Ephraim. He
couldn’t see him, groaning quietly from the effort.
Snod did have an excellent view of Terrell, watching black liquid pouring down his face as his skin
began to burn and melt away. He was screaming, trying to keep his flesh from sloughing off, steam
wafting from his body as he fell to his knees.
It was done.
