The ground shook, no doubt the trolls approaching, and he knew he had to be quick. He grabbed the gas can and came around to the passenger door. He opened it so he could throw open the glove compartment, scrambling to find a lighter.
“What are you doing?” Day groaned.
“Gonna show these boys the light,” Seymour said with a quick grin.
Day’s brow furrowed and then her eyes widened. “Seymour! Look?—”
Giant hands grabbed Seymour and yanked him up into the air. He flailed, looking down now at a troll. He lost the lighter, heard it clink somewhere off on the pavement, and he scrambled to open up the gas can and dump out its contents all over the troll.
The troll didn’t seem to care, and he hurled Seymour across the lot.
Seymour hit the ground, something cut deep into his side, and he bellowed in pain. He had lost the gas can, and he grabbed at his injury, his fingers wet and sticky with blood. There was something sharp at the center of the pain, maybe metal or glass, and he lifted his head to see the troll coming right at him.
Fuck.
The lighter!
He’d heard it fall, but he had no idea where it was now.
“Hey!” Day screamed. “You! Ugly, shameful creature! Prepare to be ignited!”
The troll, of course, did not hear her.
But Seymour did, and he could see the lighter in her paw.
Day flicked it several times before there was finally a tiny flame, and she hurled it at the troll with precise aim.
This had to work.
It just fucking had to.
The lighter struck the troll, there was afwoom, and he was instantly engulfed in flames. He did not appear to be that bothered by it, and he continued stalking toward Seymour.
“Shit,” Seymour hissed. “Come on…”
The fire ate at the troll’s clothing, the fibers melting away to reveal greenish orange skin.
Skin that turned gray like stone the moment the sunlight hit it.
The troll screamed then, his steps now unsteady as he tried to smack at the flames. His clothing was too soaked and going up faster and faster, and every newly revealed inch of skin became stone.
Day hurried over to Seymour, gasping. “Seymour! You’re hurt!”
“I’m okay.” Seymour finally checked out his wound, finding it was a large piece of broken glass embedded in his side beneath his ribs. “Fuck, maybe I’m not okay.”
Day pressed her little paws against the wound, and she whined. “We have to heal you!”
The troll roared and convulsed, his upper shoulders and arms now stone as the flames continued to work over his body. His screams were ear piercing and horrible and seemed to resonate through the very ground. The fire ate away at his pants and hood, and he could no longer flee as his legs were now petrified as well. In mere seconds, it was over.
The troll didn’t move, and there was no sound except for the last few bits of fire crackling as the last of the troll’s gasoline-soaked clothing was consumed.
He was dead.
Fucking finally.
Seymour hugged Day close, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Seymour!” someone shouted.
