Bentley Little - The Walking

She was waiting for them.

It was a vision of hell. The marsh ended and the ground was smoldering rock. A fence made of burned stakes surrounded a patch of brown tufted weeds and the decomposing corpse of what looked like a deformed elephant. There was a massive hole in the ground' That where I put her body."

--so black it seemed to suck up all available light, and hideous stone carvings lay tipped over and broken all the way to the foot of the butte.

Isabella stood upon a pile of ill-formed bones. Smiling at them. Hal shot at her.

He didn't wait for Miles' okay but simply drew his weapon and fired. As Miles expected, the bullets had no impact. They

cent rock. You couldn't kill what was already dead.

She floated toward them, her eyes locked on Miles'. They were the coldest eyes he'd ever seen, embedded in a face that was.." beautiful.

Yes, she was beautiful. He'd noticed it'at the lake, but it seemed more pronounced now. She was in her element. This environment flattered her, brought out her best features. She was dead, but he had never seen anyone look more alive. Her beauty was of a type he had never beheld before, a strange exquisite wildness. The only thing that marred the illusifias that odd tilt of the head, the weird angle at which her neck seemed permanently cocked.

Her eyes were working on him, trying to seduce him perhaps but either the necklace protected him, or his own feelings were so true and solid that nothing could dislodge them.

He hated her.

She stopped, stood before him, flat on the ground. "Miles," she said. "Miles Huerdeen. I knew you would come." Her voice was soft, musical, but had an edge to it, too. He had the feeling that, like her eyes, her voice was trying to work on him.

"What did you do to my father?" he demanded.

"I was helping your father," she said. "I want to help you, too. We must stick together, our kind. They all want us dead..."

She didn't know he was aware of her plans. She didn't know that he knew what she was.

He still had that advantage, at least, and Miles watched her while she spoke, trying to figure out what he should do.

He was not sure what he'd expected. A magic sword to appear? A spell?

May had provided them with fetishes of protection, he'd been given visions. Up until now he'd been

supplied with whatever he needed, and he'd expected that to continue..

But there was no sword, no magic spell, nothing. He wak alone with Isabella, and it appeared now as though he would have to physically attack her if he hoped to stop her an put an end to her plans of mass destruction. ;

He dropped the lantern and punched her hard in the gut. Isabella was caught unawares, but she was not hurt. How could she be ? She was dead. Her astonishment lasted only a few seconds. She spun away from him, out of his reach, causing him to stumble on his follow-up. His chance to use the element of surprise to his advantage had failed. Now they both knew where the other stood.

"You wanted to know about your father, she said softly. "Bob's in hell. I put him there. He was evil, one of the devil's disciples, and I sent him where he belonged." Her gaze held him. "Do you know why your parents split up, Miles? Do you know the real reason? Do you know why your sister never comes around?"

"Don't listen to her," Claire ordered, grabbing his arm. "Do what you have to do." What he had to do? He didn't even know what that was.

Isabella smiled. "How many guys do you think Claire fucked while you two were apart? How many huge dripping cocks do you think she sucked and sat on? More than five? More than ten? More than twenty?"

Images accompanied the words: his father taking his mother an ally against her will, sticking his huge hairy hands up Bonnie's nightdress when she was still a child; Claire bobbing up and down between a mustached man's legs, stopping suddenly, her eyes widening as the man ejaculated what was clearly an unexpectedly large amount of semen into her willing mouth.

The scenes cut straight through to his gut, but he could not let himself be swayed or lose focus. He rushed her, hands

out, pushing her hard onto the ground and falling on top of her, punching her midsection.

She was wiry. And much stronger than he would have even thought! not been used to enhance simple physical prowess. She withstood his blows and with one knee to the stomach sent him off her, falling sideways, trying desperately to draw breath.

Their positions were suddenly reversed. In one fluid motion she was on top of him. She kneed him again, this time in the crotch, then reached for his necklace, clearly not believing that she would be able to even touch it. But apparently the necklace's power was restricted to witchcraft, and though it could repel spells and conjurings, it could not fend off a direct assault. Her fingers curled around it, and the string yanked free of his neck, coming apart in her hands, the green glow winking out of existence as individual teeth clattered onto the rocky ground.

He saw a look of triumph in her eyes, felt the crackle of power in the air.

Then she was knocked sideways, off him.

And Hal and Claire were upon her.

Both were still protected, Claire's bracelet shining brightly, a glow emerging from the top of Hal's pocket, where he kept his talisman, and they were attacking wildly, like a team of predatory animals, not giving her an opportunity to right back. Once again, she was not being hurt She was dead

---but, not being able to use her powers, she was forced to fend them off. A harsh growl escaped from her lips, a tremendously deep noise that sounded as though it had come from a much larger creature.

Hal held down her arms, head-butted her in the chest.

Claire had grabbed a rock and was sitting on Isabella's legs, bashing in her knees.

Mile still felt the crackle of energy about him, and he had no doubt that she was about to finish him off, to kill him and absorb his life force or whatever the hell it was that ii she did; but before that happened, he leaped up, ran over, and grabbed her head with both hands.

She screamed, began thrashing wildly.

And he pulled off her head.

The break was clean, and he realized her head had not been reattached properly to begin with. That was why it had been held at such an odd angle. :::

He dropped the head, feeling dirty and disgusted by the sensation of it in his hands: the sliminess of the skin, the coldness of the flesh. Her body had stopped moving instantly, going limp, the thrashing ceasing upon disconnection with the head.

He helped Claire up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet, though she would have had no trouble getting up on her own, and gave her a warm hard hug, kissing her full on the lips, grateful that she was alive, grateful to be alive himself.

Jesus, Al breathed, standing and rubbing an obviously hurt knee.

Miles glanced back toward the black hole in the ground.

He thought of his dream, the old cowboy.

"That's where I put her body."

Whatever useful knowledge he possessed had come from that dream, and he quickly grabbed Isabella's slack arms.

"Pick her up," he told Hal. "We'll throw her in the hole."

There was no argument, no hesitation. Hal grabbed her legs, and the two of them lifted the unnaturally heavy form and staggered over to the edge of the massive pit.

"On three," Hal said.

They began swinging the body back and forth to gain momentum.

"One... Two... Three!"

They let go, and Isabella's body fell into the hole, disappearing instantly, swallowed by the deep lightless black. They looked down, waited, but there was no flash of light as she was consumed, no sound of thump or splash as she reached the bottom.

She was simply gone.

Or rather her body was

The head was sOil there, lying on the smoking ground at Claire's feet.