"Hurry." Timmy pushed her legs.
"I'm trying."
They cleared the barrier and kept running. Karen stumbled over a rock, but regained her balance. She gasped for air. Timmy was tiring as well. Despite days spent riding bikes and hiking through the woods, he was at the limits of his physical endurance. His lungs burned, and his leg muscles were beginning to cramp. A sharp pain jolted through his ribs. Clenching his teeth, he rubbed the sidestitch and tried to keep moving.
"Wife," the ghoul screeched. "Return to me, now. You cannot forsake me. My kind must live."
Karen sobbed, but didn't look back. Behind them, they heard their pursuer crash into the pile of shattered timbers.
"Woman, I will not warn you again."
Desperate to put more distance between themselves and the creature, Timmy and Karen pushed on while the ghoul clambered through the wreckage. They reached a crossroads, with side tunnels branching out in three different directions. Over the ghoul
's enraged shouts, Timmy heard a new soundthe muffled rumble of a diesel engine. It was the backhoe. It had to be. Sure enough, farther up the tunnel, dirt showered down from the surface. Confused by the falling debris, Karen weaved right and darted into one of the side tunnels.
"No," Timmy shouted. "That's the wrong way!" If she heard him, she gave no indication. She passed beyond the reach of his flashlight beam. He paused for just a moment, unsure of what to do. The ghoul growled, and then surged forward. It reached for him, talons clicking together. Timmy ran after Karen. Bones crunched under his feet. The tunnels began to shake. The first thing Clark Smeltzer was aware of was the noisea loud, steady rumble that made his head throb and his teeth ache. It thrummed through the very earth and cleaved the air around him. A machine, by the sound maybe a motor. The second thing he noticed was that the pain in his head was minor compared to the rest of him. Each breath brought fresh jabs of agony in his chest and sides. His face and throat felt like they ' d been burned. He tried to move and found he couldn 't. He' d been tied up with bungee cords. Clark took a few shallow breaths and then leaned forward, trying to loosen his bonds. His muscles screamed, and so did he. His voice was lost beneath the din of the machine. The bungee cords tightened, then went slack, tightened and slacked, as he slowly rocked back and forth. The rubber bands squeaked against the tombstone' s marble surface. Finally, they slipped down his body. He pulled his arms free and unfastened the cords. Clark squinted at his hands through crusted eyes, saw halfdried blood, and then touched his cheek. He shivered. The action brought more pain. His fingers came away red, fresh blood coating the already dried blood.
Fucked me up, he thought. Damn thing fucked me up good.
He shuddered. It was very cold. But that couldn't be right, could it? Coldin the middle of June? His teeth wouldn't stop chattering.
He forced his eyes open further. Only one of them obeyed. The other stayed shut. He turned his head slowly, seeking the source of the rumbling noise, and more pain ripped through him, causing his entire body to spasm. Clark clenched his hands into fists and forced his head to turn. His remaining good eye widened in surprise. Somehow, Barry had gotten inside the utility shed. The little bastard had picked the lock and hijacked the backhoe. As Clark watched, the scoop threw another clod of earth into the sky. He was digging up the cemetery obviously taking revenge for the beating Clark had handed down to him earlier.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You little fuck. What are you doing?" Barry ignored him.
"Don't pretend you can't hear me, you son of a bitch. Get off that fucking backhoe!
I mean it."
The engine revved higher. The machine rolled forward, the front end bouncing over a tombstone.
"Barry! You mind me, boy."
Fists still clenched, Clark stumbled to his feet. So his worthless son was pissed off about getting his ass beat? He' d teach him now. This was vandalism, plain and simple. Barry was about to get a beating he 'd never, ever forget.
"Okay. I warned you. You still ain't learned. This time, you don't get another chance." Clark staggered forward, grinning through the pain. Blood ran into his one good eye, and he saw red.
Karen moaned.
Timmy turned around and pointed the flashlight back the way they'd come.
"Oh God… Oh God…
Karen kept repeating it over and over. Timmy wasn' t sure if she was praying or just going into shock. If it was a prayer, it had gone unanswered. They had reached a dead end a mound of dirt and rock sealed the side tunnel off from the surface. An ashgray bone protruded from the center of the pile. All around them, the walls trembled. Timmy could hear the backhoe very clearly now, and it was easy to figure out what had happened. This tunnel had led to a grave. With Barry digging above them, the soil around the grave had collapsed, sinking down into the chasm below. Now they were trapped. Timmy stared back down the tunnel. It curved away into the darkness, sloping downward.
He wondered if there was time to run back out to the main passage and find another route. But even as he considered this the pale luminescence thrown off by the ghoul ' s body lit up the tunnel walls beyond the bend. Timmy shrank away, placing himself between Karen and their pursuer. She reached out and took his hand. Numb with terror, he barely felt it when she squeezed.
He thought of Katie, and how her hand had felt in his. He thought of his parents, and wished he could see them again, one more time, if only to tell them that he was sorry. He thought of Doug.
"I don't want to die," Timmy whispered. "Please." The walls around them shook and rumbled. Dirt spilled down on them, showering their hair and shoulders. Coughing, they brushed it off. A cloud of dust filled the narrow passageway, obscuring the flashlight beam. Their hands squeezed tighter. When the dust cleared, the ghoul had rounded the corner and stood several yards away. The creature cocked its pointed head and laughed.
"There is nowhere left for you to flee. You have offered good sport, boy, and for that I am grateful. But it is time to end this charade.
I will make your death quick, not out of kindness or pity. Believe me, I would relish the chance to flay your skin slowly for your transgressions. But I must still deal with what is transpiring on the surface. Did you and the grave digger ' s son really think to shake the foundations of my kingdom?"
Timmy licked his lips, too frightened to respond. His nostrils and the back of his throat tasted like dirt. His mouth was dry.
"Never mind," the ghoul said. "Tonight, you shall both feed me. And feed my wives, as well."
Karen squeezed Timmy's hand so hard that his knuckles popped. The ghoul raised its claws and took a menacing step forward. Timmy's eyes were drawn to the knife woundor where the knife wound should have been. It had healed already, and the only sign that Deb had even stabbed the creature was the dried blood on its thighs and legs.
The tunnel shook again and the ceiling rustled. More dirt showered down upon them all. The ghoul stumbled backward. Timmy and Karen pressed themselves against the wall, holding their breath so they wouldn 't choke. The sound of the backhoe's engine swelled, filling the tunnels.
You were right, Barry, Timmy thought. We shouldn't have tried to do this ourselves. We should have just told the adults. We can't fight a monster…
The cloud of dust dissipated, and the ghoul lunged for him. Barry struggled with the gearshift. It vibrated in his hand, refusing to budge. The backhoe rocked back and forth, the front end swaying precariously several feet off the ground. He'd spotted a fresh sinkhole and had tried to back up so he wouldn' t drive over the depression. He was afraid the ground might give way. In the process of turning around, he ' d driven up over a tombstone and was now stuck. He pushed harder on the stick. The gears made an awful grinding sound. Black smoke belched from the exhaust pipe.