Page 85 of Girl, Sought

Not human screams, or even animal screams. This was the sound of something completely Other, like a tortured machine no longer able to contain its rage. It dopplered towards her in a rising howl, and beneath that, the slap of sprinting feet.

Ella rolled up into a shooter's crouch, and in the instant before that searing sodium glow fritzed and popped like flashbulbs in her skull, she saw him.

Lawrence Winters.

The accountant-turned-collector was hurtling towards her in a fever-dream of whirling limbs and feral eyes.

Coming for her.

Ella had time for one shot, and it completely missed the mark. The bullet screamed past him and shattered glass somewhere in the distance.

Then he was on her, impossibly fast, the smell of him filling her nostrils as they slammed together. Ella collapsed onto her back as Winters mounted her. He clutched her right arm with both hands and pinned it to the ground, then he reached for her gun. Ella grabbed Winters’ hair with her free hand, but three, four, five deafening gunshots momentarily seized her. She looked over and saw a smoking Glock, now devoid of bullets thanks to Winters’ quick-thinking. He’d discharged the entire magazine.

‘You,’ Winters spat. ‘You ruined everything.’

Ella bucked, trying to throw him off. But Winters had gravity and 180 pounds of batshit crazy boring her down into the unforgiving tile. She snarled in wordless defiance, then drove her head forward and felt cartilage crunch as her forehead smashed his nose. Blood splattered hot across her face, her neck. Winters reeled back with a shriek, more enraged than pained.

She pressed the tiny advantage, drew her uninjured leg up and pistoned her knee into his crotch. A cheap move – a Ripley special. Once, twice, a third time for good measure. He made a noise like a stepped-on frog, folding in on himself. Ella heaved and finally bucked him off. She sent him sprawling across the blood-smeared tile as she rolled to her hands and knees.

There were shards of glass in every direction – a byproduct from the gunblasts that Ella had only just noticed. She caught sight of a beefy one, one that could use a knife substitute. It was so close, so close.

But then clawed fingers sank into her calf. Winters dragged her back, now laughing as he did. Ella turned back and saw those picked fingers that the teen witness was talking about. Signs of a man with high anxiety, low self-esteem a little bit of masochism under the surface. But apparently, that version of Winters was long gone.

Ella kicked, felt her heel collide with yielding flesh. Another kick, this one fueled by desperation and the pure animal fury of the trapped. Winters howled as something crunched under her assault - cheekbone, eye socket, the hell if she knew. She scrambled to her feet again, but Winters was already on the move. She caught a glimpse of his back as he pounded up the stairs.

She dragged herself upright and limped after him. The fight had renewed the pain from her burns, but she could cream them up once this was over. She bounded up the stairs, reached the walkway and found it empty.

‘Winters!’ she screamed. ‘What’s the matter? Too scared?’

Silence.

A spike of dread pierced her guts, because what if Winters had found another way out of here? Another window, a secret hatch, whatever.

No. She refused to even entertain the possibility. He was here. She couldfeelhim, that skin-crawling awareness of his presence. He was close. Watching. Waiting.

Ella reached the end of the walkway. Peered around the corner, expecting - praying - to see Winters' figure skulking in the shadows.

But there was nothing. Just another stretch of gloomy hallway lined with more shattered display cases and toppled shelves.

She bit back a scream of pure frustration. Dug her nails into her palms until blood welled, using the sting to center herself. She had to think. Had to figure out his game. If she were him, where would she go?

A shadow passed nearby - too fast, too solid to be imagination. Her instincts screamedambusha fraction of a second too late.

CRASH.

Ella whirled, heart in her throat. Behind her, something had been launched in her direction. Something big. It hit the walkway in an explosion of bones.

The skeleton came apart like a morbid jigsaw - femurs spinning one way, a pelvis shattering another. The skull went cartwheeling into darkness.

But the rain of bones was just theatrical misdirection, because all of her thoughts were lost as something broke across her skull. Chemical-sweet preservative fluid drenched her face, burning her eyes, filling her nose with the reek of ancient formaldehyde. The world started to fade at the edges, reality bleeding out like watercolors in rain. She staggered back against the wall as her knees buckled.

Dimly, distantly, she heard Winters' high, keening laugh. A sound that would haunt her nightmares for years to come if she lived that long.

Then blessed oblivion swallowed her whole. She spiraled down and down, aware of nothing but the taste of her own blood and the knowledge that she'd failed. She'd let the bastard get the drop on her.

She could stay here, she realized. Let go. Slip away into that soft, dark place where monsters couldn't reach her, and the only screams were silent ones. It would be easy. Peaceful, even. No more fighting, no more chasing.

But then, at the very edges of her awareness - a sound. Faint at first, muffled, as if filtering through layers of wool.

---