by Colleen Foley
Seth would wake in the car, for all the good it would do him. I’d called Jimmy. He’d be safe.
followed a single vine now. I’d had to remove my shirt. It ran
straight to the middle of my chest, a round, black, pulsing thing. No
oddity there, eh? It becoming a tumor?
I felt her, somewhere ahead as I ran past small mounds. A burial ground.
pain stopped. I wanted to dig at my chest, unearth the thing inside. I
dug earth and rotted leaves instead, like a hoard of rabid gophers.
Then I fell to her.