Page 99

Cameron

N ate walked ahead of me, his steps faster with each stride. He wasn’t running, yet somehow he moved with a speed that was otherworldly. Ahead of us, the bait shop stood against the backdrop of the trees.

“Nate?” I called, my voice echoing as if I was screaming into a cave. “Nate, let me explain.”

He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Instead, he moved faster, heading straight toward the building.

“Nate, I’m sorry! I should have told you sooner.”

I tried to run, to sprint toward Nate, but my legs felt like they were caught in mud or syrup. When I glanced down, though, there was nothing holding me back.

I frantically looked around, but Nate had vanished into the fog.

“Nate?”

My worry for him broke whatever spell my legs were under, and I sprinted forward.

“There you are,” a growling voice called from the mist ahead of me. A shadowy form came out of the fog, moving closer.

I froze, heart thudding in my chest.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“Your mate.”

Rick appeared from out of the misty shadows, but it wasn’t the Rick I knew. This was a monster. Face twisted and covered in fur, eyes yellow as if he was mid-shift.

“No.” I took a step back. “No.”

“Yes. Mine.” Rick smacked his palm to his chest. “All mine.”

Saliva hung from his jaws in foamy strings as if he was rabid. His canines were nearly as long as a wolf’s. Even his hands looked strange, halfway between human hands and paws. It was horrifying.

“Come here, my love,” Rick said, and lunged for me.

Shouting an inarticulate scream, I dodged away, trying to get to Nate. I ran as fast as I could, Rick’s breathing and heavy footfalls right behind me.

Ahead, the bait shop came into view. The front door was slowly swinging shut. Had Nate gone through? Was he inside now?

Before I could stop myself, I rammed my shoulder into the door and fell into… my apartment?

On my hands and knees, I glanced around. Mom and Gael stood in the kitchen. Mom held a giant metal whisk, stirring it around a huge bowl. Gael stood beside her, gazing into the basin. They turned toward me, completely oblivious to Rick slamming his fists against the door.

“Cameron.” Mom gave me a wide, toothy smile, her teeth bigger and sharper than usual. “I’m so happy.”

“Mom, we have to run!” I scrambled to my feet. “Rick is ? —”

“He’s amazing,” Mom said, lifting the whisk from the bowl.

Thick brown batter dripped in globs from the massive whisk, but never landed in the bowl. Instead, they floated in the air, and Gael leaned forward, snapping one of the floating bits from mid-air. He moaned in delight and wiped his mouth.

“So good, Mama,” he said, his lips stained with the brownie batter.

“Rick is such a good boy,” Mom said as she walked toward me. Gael followed close behind her. “He’ll make an honest woman out of you. Being a wife and mother will do you good. I can’t wait to see you with his baby inside you.”

“No!” I grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. “I don’t want him, Mom. I won’t do it. Never!”

“Cam, are you going to give me a little niece or nephew?” Gael asked. When he gazed up at me, his eyes shimmered with fervent glee. “Are you gonna let Rick put his cock in you and put a baby in there?”

The words horrified and sickened me, but before I could respond, the front door burst inward in a mass of splintered wood and snapped hinges.

“Cameron,” Rick said, looking like his old self, but with a psychotic glint in his eyes. “You need to come here. You’ve been a bad girl, and you need to be punished. And I know exactly how.” He grabbed his crotch. “Get over here.”

I shoved my way past Mom and Gael, stumbling as I tried to run down the hall. I barely managed to right myself. Rick was fast at my heels. An instant before he could grab a handful of my hair and yank me back, I slid into my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

“Oh, little pig, little pig? Let me in,” Rick crooned. “Or the big bad wolf will blow your house in.”

The door shuddered in its frame and fell inward, hitting the floor with a loud bang.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed, throwing a lamp at him.

He caught the lamp. Before my eyes, it turned into an ax.

“Maybe I’ll just chop those pretty feet of yours off?” Rick asked, hefting the ax and giving it a practice swing. “Can’t run with no feet, can you?”

He lunged forward, and I jumped out of my window, bursting through the glass. I’d rather take my chances with gravity than a madman with an ax. Shards of razor-sharp glass rained down on me, but none cut my body. Behind me, I could hear Rick laughing as I fell.

My descent stopped before it had really begun. Rather than crashing into the pavement outside my apartment, I slammed into the thinly carpeted floor right in front of my cubicle at work. The breath burst out of me as I rolled across the floor.

“Cameron? You’ve got to get up,” a woman said, doing her best to drag me from the ground.

“I need help,” I begged, clawing at her shirt. “He’s after me. Please.”

The woman didn’t react. She put a finger to her lips. “The new editor is here,” she said, pointing behind me. “And he’s not taking no for an answer.”

“She’s right, you know,” I heard Rick say.

Spinning in place, I found Rick walking toward me. The ax was gone, and he was holding a folded newspaper in his left hand.

“Please, no,” I sobbed, backing away again.

“You need to stop running, Cameron,” Rick said, and held up the paper so I could see the headline.

Cameron Torres and Rick Masters Welcome a New Bundle of Joy .

The picture below the headline caught my attention: me smiling happily, holding a swaddled baby in my arms. The baby stared up at me with a twisted, grimacing smile, sharp teeth stuck out from the thing’s lips at odd angles.

I was naked, my left breast a mangled and bloody ruin.

Streaks of crimson painted the baby’s cheeks, fangs, and lips.

Unsure what else to do, I stumbled backward, turning and running away again.

“You need to be careful,” Rick called. “For the baby.”

The Chronicle was different than I remembered. New doors had appeared, along with extra hallways and stairs where there had been none before. Rick continued to follow me, chanting the word “baby” over and over again.

Up ahead, I spotted an office I knew. Brent’s office. My real editor. Maybe he could help me? Rushing forward as fast as my legs could carry me, I grabbed the knob, turned it, and hurried inside.

Instead of Brent’s desk and framed newspaper stories, the walls were covered in pastel-colored animals frolicking in meadows and forests. A giant mobile turned lazily above a crib.

“You’re going to make a beautiful mother,” Rick said from behind me.

I turned slowly, my horror and fear so strong, I couldn’t run. Not anymore. There was nowhere to go, anyway.

Rick stood there in a three-piece suit, his hair slicked back and a pipe sticking jauntily from his lips. He looked like a stereotypical ’50s TV father.

“You and I will lead this pack,” Rick added, puffing on his pipe before using it to point at my stomach. “And that little one will be our pride and joy.”

My stomach suddenly felt heavy. Looking down, I gaped in shock at the massive, swollen belly. Deep inside, a fluttery movement sent a horrified thought through me. An alien was growing within me. Rick’s baby. The thought made my skin crawl, and I tried to take a step back.

The floor of the nursery held my feet like glue.

The wood had softened, turning into putty.

My feet sank into it as if it were quicksand.

No matter how hard I pulled at my feet and legs, I sank deeper.

I jerked my head from side to side, looking for someone to help me, but all I found were the painted animals on the walls.

The creatures looked back at me, menacing smiles on their faces, a deep red glow in their eyes.

The smiles became leers, and soon every creature had morphed into a wolf.

Rick knelt beside me, watching placidly as the floor started to swallow me up.

“When the baby comes, you’ll be able to quit your silly little job.

You can stay home all day. Cooking and cleaning, and changing diapers.

” He flapped a hand at me. “All this dumb writing and researching will be a thing of the past.”

Sliding ever deeper into the thick and gelatinous floor, I screamed for help. But there was no one.

Finally, I called out for Nate.

Rick chuckled. “Nate? Oh, he won’t be any more trouble for us.”

He snapped his fingers as the floor swallowed me up to my chin.

A woman in a maid’s outfit appeared, rolling a huge, brass room service cart.

Atop the cart, a wolf was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Steam billowed lazily up from his roasted and blistered skin. An apple sat in the dead wolf’s mouth.

Nate’s wolf.

A gut-wrenching sadness enveloped me, and I opened my mouth to scream, but before any sound could come out, the floor slipped up across my lips, filling my mouth.

Right before I slipped fully under, the last thing I saw was Rick standing over Nate’s dead body, a carving knife in hand.

An instant before the ground covered my eyes and ears, he smiled at me.

“White meat or dark meat, Cameron?” he asked, then threw his head back and laughed.