Coulter and Wayne

Greg pulled ahead, finding not only her completely unharmed but also Coulter and Wayne.

Of course the latter down a hand and with a sheen of sweat and unhealthy paleness.

Coulter hadn’t fared much better with his creepy cricket limbs splintered in clean smooth halves of meat. Blood pooling from multiple bite wounds, his bare leg washed in red.

And of course growls began to approach.

“The cars?”

“Nah magic based,” Mario reported. “Can’t pick or force.”

“Shit,” Coulter hissed.

“Well over the fence now!” Wayne insisted. “We can figure out transport and stuff later.”

Their resources were essential. Thus Greg tossed his bag over first, before cupping his hands to support Mario.

Beside him Coulter handled Wayne and Talia and undoubtedly had room for him too.

The sight of the gleaming leg intact and stretching him to nearly eight feet tall was in a way infuriating. An ever present itch at his eyelids he could never explain and had to shove aside NOW.

He rolled his eyes at the professed hand.

Still he said nothing.

On their ascent Coulter began to quake.

Not only was he off balance but he’d summoned three more legs, tearing out of his back to kick out at the goons snarling their frothed mouths.

Three whimpered at the savage whips they received.

Greg clasped the fence, face set in grim resolve.

He climbed the links, scuttling with all his speed and skill.

The tangles caught his sock tight, twisting and turning but refusing to yield.

Coulter grunted. “Greg! Oh good God,” he said looking so pale as if he weren’t being set upon by literal wild animals. “I should have let you go first.”

“Whatever it’s fine!”

“Just be quiet,” argued Wayne.

“No,” he argued just as heatedly, chest heaving in the blinding heat of righteous mania.

Long as some survived, long as their map survived and they escaped they had won today.

Only Wayne wouldn’t have it. He had promised after all.

With a terrible jerk and almost crack his now red, bleeding foot was left bare and free.

He flipped over the chain link, helped along by a thrust.

Until he realized what that meant.

The wolves knew it too, Wayne knew it as he smiled.

Now shielded in a hexagonal barrier they were massacred.

Someone, Talia, realized he had had the sense to cover his eyes. Bone parted from flesh and something rolled.

Coulter was flat on his side, all his limbs torn. Pain exuding from his expression, gritting his teeth against the awful claws digging about on his spine.

Not even his finger moved. He was completely paralyzed.

“Run,” said a voice. A voice much stronger and richer than his own.

Red hot coals stroked at his insides.

“Run unless you’re such a sadist.”

“You’re a sadist!”

“Sick freak.”

“Sadist!”

Greg ran. Oh he ran alright.

He ran hard and tirelessly screaming to the blue sky and air smelling of wet earth, honey, and lavender.