Then the shed door slams shut.
Hard.
The bang splits the shed and rattles the rafters. My heart jumps straight into my throat.
“Damn door,” I bark, spinning around. “First thing getting fixed in this shithole.”
The grinder roars behind me, its metal growl filling the space like a threat. The only light comes from a thin blade under the door, slicing across the dirt floor.
I move along the wall, palms scraping over splintered wood and rusted nails, hunting for the pull cord. My boots scuff in spilled pulp.
Then something shifts.
Not wind. Not the building settling.
Athump.
Another.
Slower. Heavier.
My pulse hammers in my ears. “Hello?” The word comes out weak.
I edge toward the worktable, fingers skating over cold metal. Wrench. Trowel. Sticky handle of the lantern. My skin crawls with unease.
Thump.
Closer.
I finally feel the rough cord for the light and pull.
The bulb flares to life, harsh and yellow.
I wish it hadn’t.
My brain locks up, skips like a broken record. My stomach drops so hard I almost sit down where I stand.
That’s Drew’s body.
No.
Not anymore.
Vines cinch his arms and chest, biting into torn flesh. A jack-o’-lantern sits where his head should be, grin crooked, mouthslick and dripping. Blood tracks down his jacket and patters to the dirt, pooling around his shoes like he’s melting into the floor.
More pumpkins roll into view. Big. Glossy.Wrong.Their vines slither and twitch, tapping the boards like curious fingers.
My prize pumpkins.
I step back.
The vines answer by creeping closer.
Behind me, the grinder howls. Hot air and vibration crawl up my spine. The blades sound eager now, like they’ve been waiting their turn.
Out of the corner of my eye, another pumpkin plants its root into the dirt and rises.
“Jesus—”
