Page 103 of Death Valley

“The loft!” Jensen grabs me, pulling me toward the ladder. “There’s a window up there—might be our only chance!”

I hesitate, looking back at Eli still secured to the cot. His eyes are open now, that unnatural blue fully manifested, watching us with predatory focus as he strains against his bonds.

“We can’t help him,” Jensen says, reading my hesitation. “He’s already gone.”

He’s right, I know he’s right, but leaving Eli feels like another failure in a string of them, another soul lost to these mountains and my inability to save anyone.

I do have some bullets left. But whatever peace they bring him would be temporary.

Just then there’s a snap and a collective snarl as the window finally gives way entirely, the hungry ones pouring through the opening like a pale, writhing flood.

“Aubrey, now!” Jensen’s voice cuts through my paralysis as the first of the hungry ones fully breaches the window, dropping to the floor with feral grace. It’s Red, or what used to be Red—his transformation complete, humanity erased by the hunger thatnow drives him, his brains hanging out where Jensen must have bludgeoned his skull in.

Behind him comes another familiar face—Cole, his features twisted in a permanent snarl, beady eyes tracking our movements, though most of his body is missing, gaping wounds of tissue, muscles and bone that have been eaten away. More follow, a nightmare parade of blue-eyed horrors flooding into the cabin.

I climb, following Jensen up the ladder to the loft as fast as I can. Behind us, the hungry ones surge forward, reaching with desperate hands, teeth snapping at the air mere inches from my boots as I pull myself beyond their reach.

Jensen is already at the small window, smashing out the glass with the butt of his rifle, his bloody axe in his other hand.

“It’s a drop,” he warns, peering into the darkness beyond. “Snow’s deep, should cushion the fall. Ready?”

“Then what?” I ask.

He can only shrug. His guess is as good as mine.

Below us, I can hear the ladder creak under weight, the sound of claws moving with frantic speed up the rungs.

“Go!” I urge Jensen. “I’m right behind you!”

Jensen doesn’t hesitate, squeezing his large frame through the narrow opening and disappearing into the night. I follow immediately, barely clearing the window before pale hands grasp at the empty air where I’d been moments before.

The fall seems to last forever, the cold night air rushing past me, then impact—softer than expected as the deep snow cushions my landing. I sink up to my chest in the drift, the cold a physical shock after the cabin’s relative warmth.

“Here!” Jensen’s hand finds mine in the darkness, pulling me free of the snowbank. “We need to move, now!”

Behind us, more shapes drop from the loft window—the hungry ones in pursuit, their movements graceful and deadly as they hit the snow and immediately begin to give chase.

We run, half-stumbling through the deep snow, the moonlight our only guide. The forest looms ahead, dark and threatening, yet our only hope for shelter from the relentless pursuit.

“This way!” Jensen gasps, pulling me toward a gap in the trees.

I follow blindly, trusting his knowledge of the terrain, the burn in my lungs and the ache in my legs secondary to the primal need to escape. Behind us, the hungry ones gain ground with every step, their enhanced strength and speed making the snow seem no obstacle.

The trees close around us, branches clawing at our faces, roots hidden beneath the snow threatening to trip us with every step. I can hear them behind us now, their breathing—a collective, hungry panting that seems to surround us from all sides.

“Almost there,” Jensen begins, then the ground disappears beneath our feet.

We’re falling.

Tumbling down a steep slope hidden by snow and darkness. I clutch desperately at Jensen’s coat, trying to maintain contact as we roll and slide down an embankment, snow and ice and stone all blurring together in painful impact after impact.

We land hard at the bottom, the breath knocked from my lungs in a painful whoosh. For a moment, I can only lie there, stunned, every part of my body registering new pains.

“Aubrey!” Jensen’s voice brings me back to awareness. “Are you alright?”

“Still alive,” I manage to gasp, sitting up slowly to assess the damage. Nothing feels broken, though my body is one massivebruise, and I can feel blood trickling from a cut somewhere on my forehead.

Jensen looks little better, a gash across his cheek already crusting with blood in the freezing air. He’s lost his hat in the fall, his dark hair matted with snow and ice.

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