Page 120 of Death Valley

Outside, the night has deepened, clouds starting to obscure the moon and stars, leaving only our flashlights to illuminate the darkness. The temperature continues to drop, our breath forming clouds that hang in the still air. Perfect conditions for fire to spread quickly through the dry timber of the cabin.

“Remember the plan,” I say as we prepare to split up. “Leave the blood trail in a wide arc leading to the cabin. Once inside, they’ll probably be drawn to Lainey. That gives us time to circle back and light the fuse, barricade them in, and then you throw the bomb into the loft. Then we head downslope, put as much distance between us and this place as possible.”

Aubrey nods, checking her gun one final time. “If anything goes wrong?—”

“Nothing will go wrong,” I insist, though we both know it’s a lie. Everything about this plan could go wrong in a dozen different ways. But it’s the only chance we have to end this, to destroy as many of the hungry ones as possible before they can spread their curse further.

Still, I grab her and pull her toward me, kissing her deeply.

“Don’t die, city girl,” I whisper against her lips.

“Same goes for you, cowboy.”

We part ways, Aubrey moving in a wide arc to the west while I take the eastern approach. The blood mixture is spread sparingly—droplets flicked from our fingers onto the snow, creating a scent trail that will be impossible to resist.

Once the trails are laid, we station ourselves on opposite sides of the cabin, waiting in the darkness for our prey to arrive. Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, the cold seeping through my wet clothes despite the exertion of our preparations. Just as I begin to wonder if our plan has failed, a sound reaches me through the still night air—the snap of a branch, deliberate rather than accidental.

They’ve found the trail.

From my position behind a massive pine, I can see movement in the forest—pale figures moving with that unnatural grace that distinguishes the hungry ones from humans. They follow the blood scent, heads low, nostrils flaring as they track the invisible path we’ve laid for them.

The first of them emerges into the small clearing around the cabin—a figure I recognize with a jolt of grief and horror. Eli, his transformation nearly complete now, only the barest trace of humanity remaining in his movements. Behind him come others—Hank, Red, faces I don’t recognize but bearing the same hallmarks of transformation: the waxy pallor, the too-fluid movement, the hungry intensity of their posture.

Those fucking eyes.

They hesitate at the edge of the clearing, as if sensing a trap. Then a figure I recognize immediately steps forward from their midst—Adam, now fully transformed and clearly in command. He gestures toward the cabin, a deliberate, eerily human movement, and the others respond immediately, moving toward the structure with single-minded purpose.

I hold my breath as they file inside, one after another. Ten, fifteen—more than I expected, their pale forms disappearing into the cabin’s dark interior. Adam stands apart at first, watching as his pack enters, a calculating intelligence evident in his posture that separates him from the others. He’s waiting, observing, sending his subordinates in first before he follows.

A smart leader. A dangerous one.

Movement at the edge of my vision—Aubrey, circling around, keeping to the shadows behind the cabin and moving with impressive stealth despite her exhaustion. She crouches there, watching me.

We wait until it seems like the last of the visible hungry ones has entered the cabin. This is our moment—the best chance we’ll have to ignite the trap with maximum impact.

Now, I think and wave at Aubrey. I run for the door, pulling the planks over it and securing them into place. The sound attracts snarls and footsteps from inside and I have just enough time light the fuel-soaked cloth, a bright flare that momentarily illuminates the porch before I duck back into the darkness.

The fire races along the fuse, a bright serpent crawling toward the cabin with hungry intent. The explosion is more violent than I anticipated—a whoosh of igniting fuel that nearly blows the door off its hinges. Flames engulf the entrance in seconds, spreading rapidly across the kerosene-soaked wood, hungry tongues of fire climbing the walls and reaching for the roof.

Meanwhile I hear glass breaking and another whoosh from the other side of the cabin, Aubrey tossing her firebomb inside the loft.

The hungry ones react with immediate panic—inhuman screeches filling the night as they find themselves trapped in the inferno. Some try to escape through the burning door, only to be driven back by the intensity of the flames. Others scramble toward the windows, clawing at the boards we’d secured hours earlier to keep out the cold. A few try to go through the ones they’d already broken through in their attempt to get us, but there are so many of them that they bottleneck, writhing, stuck, as the flames engulf them from behind.

“It’s working,” Aubrey breathes beside me, her face illuminated by the growing blaze, eyes reflecting the dancing flames. There’s no triumph in her expression, only grim satisfaction as the fire consumes the cabin—and her sister’s body along with the creatures that caused her transformation. Eli, Red, Hank, maybe Cole too.

The roof catches now, the entire structure becoming a beacon in the night, casting wild shadows across the snow-covered clearing. The screeches from inside grow more frantic, then begin to fade as the hungry ones succumb to the one thing that can truly destroy them.

As we watch, the burning roof collapses completely, sending a fountain of sparks and embers into the night sky. The mainstructure follows, walls falling inward, the entire cabin reduced to a burning pile of timber.

“We should go,” I say. “Get down to lower elevation before sunrise. Find help, and fast.”

She nods and is about to say something when a snarling noise cuts above the roar of the flames.

36

JENSEN

The sound is primal and hungry. Aubrey and I spin toward it simultaneously, weapons raised. There, illuminated by the inferno that was once the cabin, stands Adam—his pale form silhouetted against the dancing light, eyes reflecting an unnatural blue.

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