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“Laney,” someone was saying in a calm voice. “Laney, you need to stop screaming.”

Laney…

Laney…

Laney…

As Shane's brain slowly started to kick back in, he realized they weren’t alone. John was standing in front of him, his back against the wall, staring at the pool of blood with his mouth hanging open.

Fish face… he thought stupidly.

“Laney, stop screaming. Now.”

Cary. Cary is in Laney’s room.

CARY IS IN LANEY’S ROOM.

“RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” Cary roared.

Silence.

And then she started to cry, and Shane’s moved without thinking. He shoved Cary out of the way, traipsing right through the pool of blood, tracking bloody boot prints through the carpet as he sat down on the bed beside Laney. A wave of nausea rolled over him as he realized her legs were bare, pants around her calves...

She shrank away from him, her body wracked with dry sobs, as she stared at the thick stripe of blood from midway up the edge of the closet down to the rug.

“Laney, it’s okay baby, hey, it’s me, it’s okay…”

She tore her eyes away from the blood and looked at him. He reached for her, slowly, touching her face, her shoulders, her chest, her ribs, searching her for injury but not wanting to scare her. Her throat was red, swollen, and he felt his blood pressure rising.

“What happened,” came Cary’s voice, strangely calm.

“Nick,” Laney choked out. Her voice was so hoarse they could barely hear her. “He…” Her hand drifted to her throat, and she choked on another sob. “I fought him off.”

Shane stared at the back of Nick’s head, and he was struck with the sudden urge to kick the guy’s corpse.

“Is he dead?” Cary asked.

“I… I don’t know…” Laney struggled to say.

Shane knew. There was way too much blood for the guy to be alive. And there was a smell. He’d shit himself.

John, who was closest to the door, snapped his head up. “Cary, someone else is here.”

“Deal with it,” Cary said, his eyes locked on Nick’s body. John nodded once and disappeared around the corner.

Cary reached down and touched Nick’s neck. “He’s dead.”

Good.

Cary turned around and picked up the shovel.

“What are you doing?” Laney choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. But Cary ignored her, raising the shovel and bringing it down on the guy’s head with a disturbing crunch. He picked it back up, the metal now covered in blood, and rubbed it all over the trail running down the closet, and then raised it above his head and smashed the guy’s skull again.

Laney doubled over and vomited onto the floor.

Cary just kept beating the corpse, spraying himself with blood.

“Cary!” shouted a familiar voice. “CARY! WHAT DID YOU DO!?” It was Jerry.

“Jerry?” Shane heard himself say in a pleasant, normal voice. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s obscuring the evidence,” John said, re-entering the room.

Realization dawned. Cary is going to take the hit for this. He’s trying to protect Laney.

For the first time, Shane felt something almost resembling gratitude towards Cary as they watched him pummel his former employee into paste.

“Dusty! Don’t!” Jerry said urgently, but Dustin had slipped into the room, his mouth open in horror as he watched Cary bring that shovel down on the body over, and over, and over.

When Cary finally stopped, his chest heaving, he tossed the shovel down on Nick’s mutilated body and spat on him.

Dustin picked up the cordless phone, wiped the blood off the receiver with his shirt, and dialed.