Blood Red Road

I … woke up.
    You was … lookin fer me? says Jack.
    I think so, I says. Yeah.
    But you did find me, says Jack. You found me even though I was locked inside the Cooler. How?
    I move over, kneel next to him. Feel this, I says. I take Jack’s hand an bring it to the heartstone around my neck.
    It’s hot agin, he says.
    I take a deep breath. It’s a heartstone, I says. It only gits warm when I’m near you. The closer we are to each other, the hotter it gits. That’s how I knew where to find you.
    He don’t say nuthin. It’s the first time I ever seen Jack lost fer words. After a moment, he takes his hand away.
    Must be kinda annoyin, he says.
    I’m used to it by now, I says. Listen, Jack. I jest wanna say I—
    Shh! He holds up his hand.
    We wait. Listen.
    Silence.
    Silence.
    Then. A faint rumble. Like thunder in the distance.
    They’re awake, he whispers.

    Light the fires! Jack says.
    I scramble to my knees, hold my flint to the tinder at the base of the wood circle.
    I strike my flint. A spark arcs onto the dry tinder. It catches an I blow on it gently till I git a flame goin. It licks quickly up the twigs an branches. I check over my shoulder. Everyone else is doin the same with their own section. In no time, we got a strong fire goin an we’re standin inside our fortress of flame.
    We’re lucky with the night. The sky’s high an clear. The moon hangs low over the mountain tops an throws a wide silver path across the lakebed. We got a clear view in all directions.
    I hold my bow in my hand. Two bottles of vodka-soaked arrows stand by my feet. My knife’s in my boot sheath. I ain’t gonna think about havin to use it. It’s my last defense an usin it ’ud mean everythin else had failed.
    I feel calm. Clear-headed. Even though my heart’s bangin aginst my ribs.
    Emmi, I says, stay close to Tommo.
    Okay, she says.
    Silence. Silence. Silence. Essept fer the cracklin of the fire. I dart a look at Jack. His head’s lifted, like a wolfdog onto a scent.
    Then a creakin noise. A slow, painful groan. The kinda noise a old rusted shut door makes when it’s forced open. But it ain’t a door. It’s the ground.
    From somewhere deep below us, from somewhere down down down in the dark heart of th’earth, the lakebed’s ancient body is slowly bein forced open.
    The hellwurms is awake. An they’re comin up to feed.
    The ground starts to tremble. It starts to shake. Then it shifts unner our feet. I stagger. Epona grabs my arm, stops me fallin over.
    Holy crap in a cup, says Ash, her eyes wide.
    Everybody git down! yells Jack.
    Me an Epona throw ourselves to the ground. Throw our arms around our heads.
    The earth groans, deep in its belly, as it’s forced open. Over an over an over it moans its pain. Groanin an shriekin an shakin unner us, around us, it gits louder an louder. Till it takes me over, floodin my body, my breath, my brain till I think I’ll go mad.
    Then it stops.
    Silence.
    Slowly, we all git to our feet. My fingers is clenched tight around my bow. I look over at Emmi. She’s clutchin Tommo’s hand, her face white in the moonlight.
    Then, over the crackle of the fire, another sound.
    A rustle. The click of claws on dry earth. Somethin’s movin.
    It stops. Hisses.
    It can smell us, Ike says in a low hoarse voice.
    A high pitched shriek rips the night open.
    My heart leaps to my throat. My bowels clench.
    It’s callin th’others, Jack says. Git ready! An remember what I told you.
    Aim fer the eyeholes. An don’t let ’em git close enough to use their claws.
    Claws. No eyes, jest dents in the skin where they used to have eyes a long time ago. No point in havin eyes, Jack says, livin unnerground like they do, so they hunt by smell. They sniff out their prey.
    Their prey. Us.
    Then, not more’n thirty foot away, straight in front of me an Epona, a crack appears in the ground. It splits open, starts to widen.
    Here we go! Epona yells.
    A claw appears.

    The claw hooks itself onto the edge of the crack. It’s got three long scaly toes. Each toe ends in a hooked nail sharp enough to slash to the bone with one swipe. Then another claw hooks itself beside the first.
    Don’t be shy, I says. Show me yer face, you scaly-toe sonofabitch.
    An, almost like it heard me, a round head appears. Covered in scales an maggot-white with a dip in each side where the eyes oughta be. A long neck. The blunt head sways back an forth, the scales ripplin like tiny waves. It must be smellin us.
    That’s right, I