Blood Red Road

says. Over here. I’m real tasty.
    I pull a arrow outta the vodka. Nock it to my bowstring. Dip the arrowhead into the fire at my feet. It flames up right away. I take aim.
    The hellwurm slithers outta the crack. Gits up on its hind legs.
    Uh … Jack, I says. You didn’t say they could walk.
    Sorry, he says. I fergot that bit.
    The wurm’s three times my height. Two long arms with claws, an claws on its feet too. A wide slash of a mouth with lots of sharp teeth, good fer tearin flesh. You can see right through its death white skin to its beatin heart an other innards. It gives off the most gawdawful stench. Like a three-day-old corpse in a small room on a humid day. I gag. So does Epona.
    It throws its head back an shrieks.
    I let fly with my arrow. Straight at the right eyehole. A hit. The wurm’s head bursts into flame. It screams an staggers backwards into the crack it jest come from.
    Nice shot, says Epona.
    But there’s more comin. From all around us. Hunnerds of ’em by the look of it. The lakebed’s alive with their scuttlin stinkin bodies.
    We start pickin ’em off with our crossbows, as fast as we can. Epona an me, Jack an Ike an Ash. Emmi an Tommo fire away with their slingshots, dartin in between us to git a closer shot.
    Hellfire, Jack, I says. You didn’t say there was this many.
    They must of bin busy breedin, he says. He shoots me a grin, but I can tell this is worse than he especkted.
    The night rings with the screams of the hellwurms an our shouts. The air’s filled with the filthy smell of ’em an the crackle an smoke of the fire.
    I keep firin. Dip the arrow, nock, let fly, hit. Dip, nock, let fly, hit.
    Around me, everybody else is doin the same. Em an Tommo run around stuffin arrows into our bottles but, no matter how many wurms we shoot, more keep comin.
    There’s too many, says Epona. We ain’t gonna do it.
    I’m gittin low on arrows, I says.
    Me too, says Ash.
    More arrows here, Emmi! I yell.
    That’s it! she cries. There ain’t no more!
    Jack grabs my arm as I’m about to fire. By the silvery white light of the moon, I can see his face is all streaked with smoke from the fires.
    Git outta here, he says. Take Emmi an Tommo. Ash an Epona’ll cover you.
    My heart stops. There’s a roarin in my ears. You want us to go? I says.
    He nods. Ike an me’ll stay, he says.
    No, I says.
    I pull myself free. I grab twig bundles, shove ’em into the fire. They catch light an I launch ’em at the wurms. More screams as they burst into flame. Beside me, Jack keeps on shootin his bow.
    If you leave now, he says, at least you got a chance of findin yer brother.
    Ferget it, I says.
    I snatch my bow agin an start firin.
    Use the torches if they git too close! yells Ike. Don’t waste yer arrows!
    I look around. The hellwurms is closin in. Closer an closer they come. Some slither along the ground, some walk upright, their heads swayin. They won’t try to cross the fire ring, but once it starts to die down, that’ll be it.
    Jack pulls the bow outta my hand. If you don’t do this, he says, everythin you bin through to find yer brother counts fer nuthin.
    I stare at him. I feel like my throat’s closin up. Leave him. Leave Ike. But I gotta find Lugh. I’m so close to findin him.
    You know I’m right, he says.
    Okay, I says. We’ll go.
    Saba! yells Ash. Behind you!
    I whirl around.
    One wurm, bigger’n the rest, darts forwards through a dyin section of the fire ring. Jack grabs my arm an goes to yank me back but the wurm’s claw flashes out. A hot pain slashes through my right shoulder. I cry out.
    A blast rings out an the wurm’s head explodes in a million pieces. Putrid flesh an blood splatter down on me like rain. I look over my shoulder. Ike’s holdin his bolt shooter. He gives me a little salute.
    You all right? says Jack.
    I close my mind to the pain. Like I used to do in Hopetown.
    I’m fine, I says.
    Time to go, he says. He grabs up a torch in each hand an lights ’em. Ash! he yells. Epona! C’mere!
    They start to run over to us.
    The ground rumbles. We all stagger an I grab onto Jack to keep from fallin.
    The wurms stop. They raise their heads. Then they scatter.
    Jest like that. They scuttle an slither across the lakebed an disappear back down inside the cracks.
    They’re gone. An all that’s left is the smolderin corpses of hunnerds of hellwurms.

    We stand inside our circle of dyin fire an stare. There ain’t a sound but the hiss of the embers. Nobody moves. It’s