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There’s a fucking knife that just left Hardy’s hand and is currently buried in the middle of my chest. My body falls to the ground. My body falls – but I’m still standing.
I look down at my hands, slightly transparent with a faint glow. My hand moves to the other. I tap my palm. I can still touch myself but… I kick a rock. It doesn’t move.
‘You’re dead,’ he says again.
A shake quakes my hands. There’s a building panic. Panic. Alarm. Confusion. But then those feelings are shoved aside because indignation is a weapon I wield dead or alive.
‘Well, I am now!’ I huff, looking at my dead body. ‘Thanks a lot, asshole.’
‘Look, Miller, it hurts me to do this.’
Can I get back in it? Can I just take the knife out and jump back in? I move towards my body.
‘Then don’t?’
‘Do you think I have a choice?’
‘You’re not taking her.’ Walker reappears beside me. Hardy startles. I can barely hear them over the white noise filling my head, the gravity of the situation having only just caught up to me. I’m dying. I’m going to die. Or I’m already dead. I can’t very well live with a knife sticking out of my chest now, can I? My breaths become uneven, but are they even my breaths if I no longer have a body? Fear, anger, worry, and dread catches up with me at record speed and crashes into me in an emotional pile-up.
What does this mean? I look at Walker but he’s woefully quiet. There’s no witty remark or quick banter anymore.
‘Is it true?’ My voice cracks and my eyes well with tears.
‘Miller, I—’ He’s speaking to me but he won’t look at me.
Oh.
Oh.
The ground has begun to shake. The sky has darkened. Rain falls in fat droplets, and gale-force winds have rolled in. It’s tearing at the trees. Ripping up the grass.
Hardy has moved closer.
‘Come on, Miller.’ He reaches a hand towards me, but Walker is there to break contact.
‘I said you can’t take her.’
‘You’re right.’ Nodding, Hardy looks at the ground. ‘You’re stronger than I am. I could never take her from you. Alone.’
I feel something sinuous and gnarled slip around my ankle and tighten like a lasso. I fall face first as a light goes off and I’m dragged backwards. A scream wrenches from my lips as shadows consume me, hold me down, wrap around me and plunge me into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Chicken Saviour
Look, I’ll be honest – it came as a surprise, but I’m ready to accept my fate. All I ask is that we get it over and done with quickly. I hate things that drag on, and this is bordering absurdity. This being-dragged-through-a-haunted-forest-by-my-ankle bullshit is not for me. Kill me, fine – but is it too much to ask that people be prompt?
Apparently, yes.
With whatever is going on, Big Bird seems to have run into a spot of trouble. He keeps hissing and screeching like he’s frustrated.
Me and you both, brother.
I would have at least thought I’d merited a single rescue attempt, but we’ve been at this a good five minutes now and NADA! Walker and Hardy are long gone, left behind in the clearing. Stars know what’s going on over there. Every now and then I see flashes of green neon through the trees. I have no idea what’s going on.
I can hear a thumping bassline shaking the trees, and horns blaring, and a series of lights began to strobe, but that’s really nothing out of the ordinary for Bantom. With any luck, maybe Big Bird’s prone to epilepsy. But he shows no signs of stopping. He just keeps on batting those big fuck-off wings and trying to do that weird static thing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was trying to make off with me.
There’s a storm brewing above. The sky is pulsing, like it’s about to throw up, and fat raindrops have begun to fall. At least the wet makes it easier to slide against the earth.
