“There it is,” Cindy gasps, panic forcing the words out too fast. “I can see the gate.”
There is a thick, ugly crack that splits the air and cuts the sentence short. Beth turns just in time to see the bolt hit. It punches through the side of Cindy’s neck and tears out the other side in a violent burst of flesh and arterial spray. Blood erupts in a hard, pulsing stream, splattering the snow and striking Beth’s exposed arms and hands.
Cindy’s eyes go wide as her body staggers. Her mouth opens and closes without sound, jaw working uselessly as her throat fails her. Blood bubbles between her lips, spilling down her chin and soaking the front of her dress. She reaches for Beth with shaking fingers, hands slipping in her own blood as her knees begin to give way. Cindy collapses mid-step, knees buckling, body slamming into the snow. She tries to breathe. The sound that comes out is wet, choking, wrong.
Beth drops beside her, hands shaking, pressing uselessly at the wound, whispering over and over, “Cindy, no. Stay with me. Please.”
Cindy’s eyes flutter. Her chest hitches once more. Blood spills from her mouth and runs into her hair as her body finally goes slack.
On the ridge above them, a silhouette lowers a crossbow with mechanical calm.
Then it is gone.
Beth doesn’t remember standing up. Her body just goes, pushed forward by panic she can’t stop. Her legs feel numb, the cold doesn’t register, and the burn in her lungs barely reaches her. All she hears is Chris yelling her name behind her and the heavy crunch of boots tearing through the snow.
Chris catches her arm and spins her around hard enough to make her stagger. His hands are shaking violently. His face is streaked with blood, smeared across his cheek and jaw.
“Hey, look at me,” he says, his breath hitching with every word. “We can make it. Just keep going.”
He turns to run. Branches snap hard to their right, followed by the heavy rush of movement cutting through the snow. Beth barely has time to register the shape breaking from the trees before the killer hits him.
The axe is driven straight into Chris’s stomach with full force. The blade buries deep, tearing through fabric, muscle, and organs in a single violent motion. The impact knocks the air out of him instantly. His body jerks forward, then locks in place, back arching as his mouth opens in a silent scream. Blood spills immediately, pouring down over his hands as he instinctively clutches at the handle lodged in his abdomen.
“CHRIS,” Beth screams as she lunges toward him. “Chris!”
His eyes are wide with shock, pupils blown out as his body begins to tremble. His lips quiver as he tries to breathe. He coughs hard, and blood bursts from his mouth, splattering Beth’s bare arms and the snow between them. Red flecks cling to his teeth and run down his chin.
“Beth,” he wheezes, his voice thin and broken. “Baby. Run.”
The word barely makes it out. His knees buckle as his strength gives way. The killer stays close. Gloved hands wrap around the axe handle still buried in Chris’s stomach. Chris feels it before he sees it. His entire body seizes as a strangled sound tears out of his throat.
“No,” he gasps. “Stop.”
The axe is ripped free and driven in again with brutal force. The blade tears deeper through his torso, shredding what little resistance remains. His body collapses forward as blood pours freely now, soaking his shirt and spreading beneath him.
Beth stumbles backward as her legs buckle beneath her. The air leaves her lungs in a single rush and her vision narrows until there is nothing but Chris on the ground. His body twitches once and then goes still.
The killer lifts their head and turns toward her. Snow clings to their clothes and blood coats their hands. They raise one finger and point straight at her.
Beth’s mind blanks under what she’s seeing. Whatever thought she had falls apart, and her body moves on instinct alone.
She turns and runs.
She runs until her chest burns so badly it feels close to splitting, each breath shallow and frantic. Her calves scream with pain, muscles tightening and threatening to fail as her bare feet strike frozen ground, roots, and rock. Trees blur together as she pushes forward, her breaths breaking into panicked sobs that barely keep her upright.
The chainsaw starts behind her. The engine catches with a rough, uneven roar that cuts through the forest and the storm. The sound climbs rapidly, growing louder and more aggressive as the motor revs higher. Metal screams against metal as the chain spins faster, the noise tearing through the air and closing the distance behind her.
“No. No. No. Please,” Beth cries, words tumbling out of her in raw sobs as she crashes through branches that tear at her face and arms. She slips on ice and mud, goes down hard, rolls, slams into a tree, then staggers back up.
The chainsaw roars again, closer this time.
Beth’s foot comes down wrong as she runs. A jagged rock punches straight through the sole of her foot. The impact steals her balance instantly. Her ankle twists as her weight collapses onto the injury, and she goes down face first. Her chin slams into frozen dirt with a muffled crack that rattles through her skull. Pain detonates up her jaw and into her ears, leaving her stunned and gasping. She tries to scream and only manages a wet sob.
Beth scrambles backward, palms digging frantically into the ground as she fights to put distance between herself and the sound. Broken sticks drive into her hands and wrists. Blood smears across the snow in streaks as she drags herself away, her injured foot trailing uselessly behind her and leaving a thick red trail wherever it touches.
The chainsaw revs again.
Boots crunch closer, each step pressing into the snow. The figure steps into view. They are tall, shoulders broad beneath dark clothing dusted with snow. Their grip on the chainsaw is relaxed. The blade is still running as it drags behind them, chewing into ice and stone. Sparks burst where metal strikesrock. The air fills with the stench of fuel and hot oil layered over blood and pine.
