The Chevelle roared. Ludwig turned as the front fender caught his kneecaps. Bones snapped like celery sticks; Ludwig screamed; the Chevelle bounced as it ran him over. I scrambled out of the way. The Chevelle roared backward, then shot forward again.Crack-crack-crack-crack. Rib bones, right in succession. The car swerved back again, and Artemis leaned out the driver’s window.
“Is he dead?” she yelled.
I rose to my feet, scooped up the axe, and crept towardLudwig’s motionless form. Mostly motionless. His legs were mangled and his chest was flattened, and one of his arms looked like pink taffy, but his eyes snapped to me and his lips curled away from his teeth.
You know why people generally have an easy time killing spiders? It’s because spiders are not at all like humans. When a human body is smashed to a pulp, but the head is still staring at you and gnashing its teeth like it wants to eat you, you stop seeing it as a human body. It becomes some straight-upExorcistnonsense, and that axe in your hand looks like a pretty good spider smasher.
The blade sliced squarely into his throat. Chopping through the human neck wasn’t as easy as TV made it seem. They don’t mention how much blood there’s going to be, or how there’ll be a little bit of whistling and a little bit of gurgling, and how the soft tissue will give way and the spine will hold out a little longer. Prosthetic fingers also don’t help; Ludwig ended up with a neck like ground beef before it was over.
I wouldn’t call it therapeutic. It was just necessary.
Tad Thompson’s head rolled to the side. His smashed body writhed for another moment before smoke began rising from his jeans and a fire caught underneath him. It engulfed him in seconds, and then it was gone. All that was left was a sooty imprint on the ground where a body had once been. Even the blood on the axe flared and disappeared.
The head remained, motionless and bloodied.
Artemis stood by the hood of the Chevelle.
“That’s going to be hard to explain,” she said.
Bach had clambered to his feet and shuffled over to us, and now leaned down to pick up Ludwig’s head by its remaining hair. Ludwig’s own fire had cauterized the gaping neck.
I looked Bach up and down. “Are you—how are you still moving?”
“If you don’t cut off the head, our bodies heal, no matter how bad the damage.” He sighed. The skin was flaking off his lips. Even firestarter bodies could be harmed by fire. “Eventually.”
“So he won’t?” Artemis motioned to Ludwig.
“No. Just get him back through his entrance.”
“Good luck with that,” said Ludwig.
Artemis grabbed my arm so hard she almost broke it. I swung the axe up. Bach sighed again and turned the head around. Ludwig glared at Artemis first, then me.
“You think I’m going to let you get rid of me? I’ll just come back again. And next time, I’ll possess someone really important.” He looked at Artemis. “Maybe your mother.”
Without so much as a blink, Artemis punched Ludwig so hard his head went flying out of Bach’s grip. It landed at the twenty-five-yard line with a heavythumpand rolled until coming to a stop.
Glancing approvingly at Artemis, Bach shuffled to retrieve the head again.
“Zora, do you have a bag somewhere? Something we can put him in?”
All I had was my school messenger bag inside the Chevelle. I dumped out the few papers and pens and the last remains of Aunt Greta’s pruned mums, then held it open while Bach dropped Ludwig’s moaning head inside.
“His entrance is in the mines.” I turned to Artemis. “The chasm.”
Artemis nodded. Then she looked toward the fence, where people were now climbing through the hole. “We have to go now, before someone stops us. This is going to be all over the news tomorrow.”
Bach suddenly turned and looked out over the woods.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Sammy,” he said. “He heard what’s going on.” He turned to me, a smile curling up his ruined mouth. “Can you two handle Ludwig?”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
“Good. I’ll take care of Sam.” He started limping toward the far end of the field, toward the woods. As he walked, his stride lengthened, his movements stronger. “Go, now,” he called over his shoulder. “And don’t believe a thing Ludwig says.”
31
