VAL
With both hands,I twirl the pitchfork above my head, flinging off vines. Drew’s pumpkin is relentless and I’m not sure how long I can keep it at bay with these wide swings until Shaun gets here. It’s going to take both of us to take this one down.
It’s getting too close so I swing again, but this time when I hit it, the handle breaks in half against the rind. The tine end bounces off the pumpkin and flies into the field. I’m left standing there with the useless bottom half.
Well, that’snotgood.
Drew’s pumpkin vines burst forward and snap tight around my throat.
Squeezing. Claiming. Promising.
My feet leave the ground and suddenly I’m dangling, legs kicking at empty air. Firelight smears into streaks of orange and red. Smoke claws down my lungs as the vine tightens, pulsing like it’s counting heartbeats.
My hands fly up. Nails dig into the vine. I pull. Fibers peel back under my fingers, gooey and sticky.
The vine lifts me higher, calculated, like it wants me to understand how small I am before it finishes the job. My shoulders burn. My neck screams. I sway four feet off the ground, then higher, my spine stretching as the vines extend.
My vision narrows.
Of course my brain chooses now to contribute.
Loss of oxygen can cause euphoria before unconsciousness.
Fantastic.
I claw harder. The vine answers by tightening. Pressure blooms behind my eyes. My tongue tingles, numb and buzzing. The sound that comes out of me barely qualifies as a noise. A thin, ugly wheeze.
I hear Shaun.
He’s yelling my name, raw and cracked, somewhere through the roar of fire. I force my eyes open and find him fighting toward me, axe hacking through smaller pumpkins that swarm his legs. Vines snap around his calves. He tears them free. Blood streaks his arm. His face is feral with panic and fury.
He’s still moving.
He’s trying to get to me.
I refuse to let him watch me die.
I bare my teeth and jam both thumbs under the vine, trying desperately to push it away. Sap bursts under my nails. The vine spasms and tightens in response, punishing me for trying.
Stars explode across my vision. Firelight flickers. My ears ring.
My grip weakens.
My hands slip.
They fall to my sides, useless and numb, fingers twitching like they belong to someone else. My chest burns. My lungs scream. The world dims at the edges, sound stretching and warping.
Not yet.
Not like this.
I suck in a desperate breath. Being this high up gives me the opportunity to drag in untouched smokey air. I try to think, wildly, furiously?—
I didn’t survive killer pumpkins just to get strangled by salad.
The pressure vanishes.
For a moment I’m weightless.
