Burial Ground

III

10:42 p.m.

The pain was beyond anything he had ever imagined. Once those jaws had clamped down on his lower leg, no amount of thrashing or jerking could free it. Teeth like hacksaws had slashed right through his skin and muscle to find purchase on bone, and ground down with almost hydraulic force. His tibia and fibula had both snapped mid-shaft. He had no idea if his foot and ankle were even still attached. A flood of blood left his body as the creature twisted and tugged, drawing him back toward the cavern where the rest of the screeching flock waited.

Even if he managed to extricate his shattered leg from its grip, he would bleed to death long before reaching help. He was a goner and he knew it. All that remained was to die. The only thing now within his control was how painful that death would be. The hell if he was going to allow himself to be dismembered like all of the others. He was going out on his terms, not theirs.

And he was going out with a bang.

The distant egress of the tunnel faded to a pinprick of dim light beyond his outstretched arms. His fingers clawed for traction on the smooth rock, yet they were unable to slow him. The skin tore from his fingertips and his nails bent backward and peeled away. The ground was slick with his blood.

It was now or never.

In one swift motion, he flopped over onto his back. The pressure on his lower leg abated as the bottom half tore away in the mouth of the predator. He screamed in agony and pawed at his jacket pocket until his hand wrapped around the smooth, round object.

Blood gushed unimpeded from his ragged stump.

The respite was brief. Jaws clamped around his opposite calf and pulled him again in reverse.

He felt the metallic ball of the grenade in his left hand and drew a measure of comfort from its awesome power. With his right hand, he pulled the pin, and cradled death to his bosom.

Consciousness fled with his lifeblood. His head felt light, detached.

The sound of the shrieking creatures grew louder by the second.

His tibia snapped with the crack of a bullwhip.

He prayed the others would make good use of the time his life afforded them, because the whole blasted mountain was about to come down on their heads.

Colton slid out of the end of the tube into a living blackness filled with avian cries.

Talons impaled his chest.

Teeth sawed into his abdomen, his groin.

He arched his back and opened his mouth for one final scream---