I heard the sound of Harry’s butterfly knife flick open.

My ears caught the shuffling of feet all around.

Across the store, the clicking of Granny’s walker, though she didn’t seem to be moving in any closer.

But noise made it difficult to listen to the gnashers’ movements. The noise of the murmuring drugstore customers, all offering their rational explanations for why the lights had gone out.

A click near me.

And light shone in the darkness.

Harry held a pocket flashlight in one hand and his knife in the other. He shone it at my face for a moment then turned it over to Sheila and the girl in the red hoodie, who squinted at him and gave a friendly wave.

In the shadows behind them the Janitor’s face illuminated, his mouth open wider than should have been possible, and his teeth over Sheila’s shoulder.

“Sheila!” Harry shouted.

As if her name had explained everything, Sheila slammed her elbow into the Janitor’s nose.

As the gnasher recoiled from the impact, Sheila reached into her purse, drew a small handgun, and pointed it at him.

“Stay back!” she yelled, followed by a slew of profanities.

The Janitor raised his hands as if surrendering.

Crash!

My heart tried to leap out of my chest at the sound. I whipped my head around to see that Granny had knocked over the sunglasses rack.

Sheila screamed.

My eyes raced back over to her to see she was grappling with the Janitor. He had taken advantage of the momentary distraction and pinned her against a shelf of pill bottles. His teeth flashed in the low light, and strings of drool stretched between them as his jaws moved to cage her throat.

Harry dashed over, dropping his flashlight in the process.

The light rolled and spun on the floor, casting looming shadows on the walls and ceiling.

A sound like a steak-knife slicing a sirloin.

I felt a chill behind me, and when I turned Jesus Shirt pounced. His hands caught my shoulders and forced me back onto a shelf. The plastic bottles clattered to the floor in a cacophony.

Screams filled the air.

I shoved back against the gnasher, who encircled my throat in his rough, calloused fingers. Panic took me when I saw his mouth open wide, the rows of fangs exposed and thirsty.

I kicked him in the knee.

He barely flinched.

Both hands on his shoulders, I planted my feet behind me and pushed off the ground as hard as I could manage.

Jesus Shirt stumbled back, and we both crashed in a heap on the ground. His hands came loose from my throat. I made a fist and brought it down on his face.

I yelped. Pain shot through my fingers, making me suddenly aware of all the little bones I’d wrapped into a ball and brought down the gnasher’s solid forehead. I wasn’t sure if the crack I heard was from his face or my hand.

My heart stopped at the sound of a gunshot. A boom far more deafening than anything you hear in the movies.

The crowd stampeded out the front door in panicked screams.

I looked up at Sheila, who held the smoking gun in her hand.

The Janitor’s body lay against the wall, a black hole in his forehead from which crimson oozed out in gobs.

Fingers clasped around my throat again as Jesus Shirt recovered his senses.

I tripped backward and tried to kick him away, but his hands refused to release me. In my stumbling, my thumb found a glass bottle on the ground. I lifted it by the neck and smashed it over the gnasher’s head. His grip relinquished again, and orange juice flowed over his face.

Another shot. The Veteran fell back, away from the girl in the red hoodie, who’d crouched down onto the ground.

Harry motioned me over, and I ran to his side.

The Janitor stood again and reached for Sheila.

Sheila turned just in time and shot him in the head again, causing him to fall back once more.

“Bathroom!” Harry grunted at us.

Sheila grabbed the girl by the hood and yanked her along as the four of us scampered to the restrooms at the back of the store.

The gnashers followed suit, every one of them charging across the store, knocking shelves out of their way.

Ahead of us, Granny tossed aside her walker and sprinted toward the bathrooms to cut us off.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three shots to Granny’s chest caused her to topple over backwards.

“Men’s room!” Harry yelled.

The blue background and white stickman had just become signs of salvation when we arrived. We burst through the door, then kicked it shut again behind us.

Harry turned back and locked the deadbolt. “Hope that’ll hold for a bit.”

Sheila shook her head at him as she ejected the clip from her pistol and reloaded with a second one. “I shot that guy in the face,” she said, her voice wavering. “Twice. He still got back up.”

Harry turned to me, a confused look in his eye. “That’s right. And I stabbed him in the chest, but he just kept coming.”

Slam!

The door shook as something (or someone) crashed into it. Outside we heard the grumbling and snarling of the gnashers gathering around.

Please, God! Please make the lock hold until the police arrive!

The bathroom was almost pitch-black, save for the light coming in through the barred window on the other side.

Barred window...

We were trapped.

“Hey!” Harry snapped his fingers in front of my face to bring me out of my daze. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Those… freaks out there… they don’t die.”

Across the room, the girl in the red hoodie shuffled off into one of the bathroom stalls and closed the door.

I looked up into Harry’s eyes. There was no use trying to hide it anymore. I had to tell him the truth, whether he’d believe me or not. “I said before, those people are monsters.”

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, geez… you weren’t kidding…”

Sheila stared at me with wide eyes.

“They’re called ‘gnashers,’ and they feed on human blood.”

“Like vampires?” said Sheila.

“Yeah, like that,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “But crosses, holy water, garlic, none of that stuff works on them. They don’t die from stakes to the heart either.”

“Or bullets to the face…” Sheila grumbled.

Click.

All our eyes snapped to the door as we saw the handle switch from locked to unlocked.

The Janitor has a key!

The door started to open and a hand reached inside.

Without another thought, Harry and I threw ourselves up against the door. It smashed the wrist of the gnasher reaching in. Harry stabbed the hand with his knife over and over, until it retracted through the gap, allowing us to slam the door shut again. Harry gripped the knob to keep it from turning, then switched the lock back into place. The lock started to turn again, and just when it was half-way up, Harry twisted it into the locked position again, as violently as he could.

Snap!

Something metallic broke.

The key?

In any event, after the break, the deadbolt stayed in the locked position.

On the other side of the door I heard the Janitor bellow with rage.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but kept his back against the door to hold it shut. “Ok, we’ve slowed them down a little more, but they will break through eventually. Cops probably won’t be here yet. How do we kill ‘em?”

“They can die from stoning, burning, drowning, or being buried alive,” I told him. “But I can’t do it. I… well, you know how I can heal? The other side of that is I can’t kill.”

Harry gave me an incredulous look. “So, bullets and knives won’t kill ‘em, but rocks will?”

“...Yeah…” it hadn’t yet occurred to me why this might sound strange.

“Oooookay, then,” Harry said, “Do we have any rocks in here?”

We both looked down at the floor, at the concrete floor.

“Will that work?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

From within her purse, Sheila produced a small bottle of hairspray and a cigarette lighter. She smirked, then opened her mouth to say something, but Harry groaned and doubled over in pain, gripping his stomach.

“Harry!” Sheila cried and ran to his side.

Harry retched and vomited blood, which splattered on the bathroom floor and splashed up against my legs.

I ran to Harry and held a hand against his stomach, trying to heal him.

Slam!

Slam!

The gnashers were at the door again. Perhaps drawn either by the smell of the blood or the sounds of Harry’s suffering.

The stall in the corner swung open, and out walked the girl in the red hoodie, her face paler even then before. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” I said, holding fast to Harry’s stomach as he flailed and thrashed around. “Sheila, I’ve got him! Guard the door!”

Sheila reluctantly let go of Harry and picked up her hairspray and lighter again. She faced the door, holding both at the ready, saying prayers under her breath.

The girl in the red hoodie stood with her back against the wall and stared in horror as Harry convulsed and seized, his eyes rolling back in his head.

I closed my eyes and widened my palm over Harry’s stomach, until he finally stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal. Stabbing pain shot up through my palms, up to my elbows.

Slam!

Slam!

The gnashers’ unsuccessful onslaught on the door continued.

Sheila glanced back at Harry, joyful tears pouring from her eyes when he gave her a look that told her he was all right again.

“Did you swallow some pills?” asked the girl in the red hoodie.

Harry shook his head and gave her a questioning look.

For a brief moment, I could swear I saw a look of guilt on the girl’s face.

Crash!

The outer wall exploded inwards and white dust filled the air. Tiny shards of glass peppered us all as we crouched and covered our heads with our hands.

The roar of an engine pulling away.

I turned to see the demolished outer wall of the drugstore restroom, and beyond it was the cowboy’s blue Toyota. The cattleman gnasher sat behind the wheel, flashing his terrible smile. He revved up the engine, a wild look in his eyes. Those malicious pupils locked on me, and he shifted the car into drive.

All four of us shouted different incoherent things as we scurried into the corner furthest from the truck. The blue Toyota crashed through the demolished remains of the wall, shattered the first two sinks, and finally came to a stop half-way into the bathroom.

The broken pipes on the walls sprayed like fountains.

With the driver’s side door up against the wall, the pickup’s passenger door popped open, and just under it I saw leather riding boots hit the floor.

“The children!” he demanded, his voice low and scratchy. He slammed the passenger door shut and stood beside the truck with a machete in his hand. “Surrender the young’uns and you two live.”

The girl in the red hoodie looked at us with a pleading, desperate expression.

Sheila jumped to her feet, flicked her lighter, and sprayed a stream of flame at the Cowboy.

The sound from the gnasher’s throat was more animal than human, but the suffering in that voice still haunts me. The Cowboy thrashed and stumbled around, until he fell head-first through a stall door and into a toilet.

Steam and smoke rose from the stall, but the Cowboy was still and silent.

Crack!

The door bent inward around the middle.

The gnashers would be through soon.

“Get in the truck!” Harry shouted.

All four of us clambered over rubble and debris, coughing on the dust and smoke.

Sheila climbed in first and took the driver’s seat.

The girl in the red hoodie was next, and she clambered into the cramped back seat.

Harry gestured for me to go before him, so I did, and I too clambered into the claustrophobic back seat.

The door crashed open, and the Sinner was the first of the gnashers to stumble in, followed by the Son of Darkness and Jesus Shirt.

Harry hopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

The Sinner threw himself on the truck’s hood and crawled toward the windshield.

Sheila shifted the vehicle into reverse.

The Son of Darkness ran for the passenger door. Harry locked the door just as his fingers found the handle. The gnasher’s fist cracked the side window.

The engine roared and the truck flew backwards. The gnasher on the hood slid off and hit the ground with a hard thud.

The brakes screeched as the truck came to a halt. Sheila jerked the wheel as far as she could to the left, then shifted the vehicle into drive.

All of the gnashers rushed out through the collapsed wall, shrieking and jeering as they drew close.

Thump!

A dark shape fell from the drugstore roof, and the truck jolted up and down as something heavy hit the flatbed.

I looked back just in time to see a gnasher in hunting camouflage crawling on all fours. He held in one hand a metal pipe. With one swift motion, he smashed the truck’s back window in, sending shards of glass scattering inside.

I yelped. The girl in the red hoodie screamed. Harry turned his head to see.

Sheila stepped harder on the gas, and the truck accelerated. She peeled around the corner and the truck jerked up and down as its tires touched the asphalt of the main road.

The gnasher in the back reached his arm in through the broken window. His fingers grasped at the girl in the red hoodie. She shrunk back against the wall and slashed at the gnasher’s hand with an exacto-knife she’d pulled from her pocket.

Harry reached back and stuck his butterfly knife into the gnasher’s forearm. The whole length of the blade sunk in, until only the handle was still visible.

I picked up a shard of glass and stabbed under the gnasher’s armpit.

The gnasher bled, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the onslaught. His index finger and thumb caught the girl’s red hood and pulled it into his grip. Once his grip was firm, he yanked on her hood, causing her to tumble forward, towards me.

I wrapped my arms around her and held tight.

Harry dug through Sheila’s purse, pulled out her pistol, and aimed it at the gnasher.

“Wait!” I cried out, terrified that he’d miss his target and hit one of us.

Bang!

The ringing in my ears persisted long after the deafening shot.

But the gnasher fell back and lost his grip on the girl’s hoodie.

Sheila drove the truck over the curb and onto the sidewalk.

The sudden bump threw the gnasher out the back of the truck with a sickening crack as his body hit the pavement.

All of us took a moment after that to catch our breath as Sheila drove on, into the dust storm. None of us could see much of the road ahead, but it was bound to be safer than what lay behind us.

We sat in silence, none of us really sure which direction we were going. We just followed the road in the stolen vehicle.

Soon, what little we could see of our surroundings looked less like the town of Lusk and more like rural landscape.

Harry finally broke the silence when he offered his hand to shake the girl’s. “I’m Harry. I didn’t get your name.”

The girl in the red hoodie stared up at him from her corner, her face still pale with shock. The silence was just long enough to make me wonder if, maybe, this girl couldn’t really speak.

“Candice,” she said, finally breaking the silence and taking Harry’s hand.

“Good to meetcha, Candice,” said Harry.

Candice forced a smile, though it fled quickly from her face.

Harry pointed with his thumb to Sheila, “This is my wife, Sheila.” He pointed to me next, with his index finger. “And this is Stephen. We met him in Lusk.”

Candice looked at me and gave a slight wave.

I scratched the back of my head. “So, I’m guessing you’d like an explanation for all that? You know, all that happened back there, in the drugstore.”

Candice opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and merely nodded her head.

“Ok, this is going to sound crazy, but--”

“Crazier than what I just saw?” Candice interrupted. “All the freaks with the… those monstrous fangs… and they were all after me…” She shuddered and pulled her knees in closer to her chest.

My eyes widened with surprise. “You could see their fangs?”

She gave me an incredulous look. “How could I not? They were enormous!”

I turned to Harry and Sheila, “Could either of you see them?”

Harry shook his head. Sheila said, “No, I couldn’t. But I could see them trying to bite us.”

I turned back to Candice. “Usually, most people can only see the gnashers’ fangs if they intentionally let their guard down. See, they put out this… it’s like a signal. It causes most people who look at them to see something ordinary. Sometimes, though, they turn it off. Usually so they can scare their victims.”

Candice rolled her eyes. “But what are they?”

“Monsters, basically,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t know for sure where they come from. If they’re born that way, cursed to become that, or if they’re made by other gnashers, but they’re monsters. They drink blood. Human blood.”

“So, why are they after me?” Candice asked. Though, by the nervous look on her face, I suspected she already suspected the answer, and desperately hoped her suspicions were wrong.

“I’m not sure.” I bit my lower lip. I knew the question I had to ask her, but it was such a delicate one to approach that I had to be careful in my phrasing. “Earlier today we were at a gas station and Sheila started bleeding from her wrists.” A look of recognition crossed Candice’s face, and she glanced away. “Sheila, what did you cut your wrists on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sheila shrugged. “That’s just the thing, I didn’t cut them on anything. All of a sudden, gashes appeared and I was bleeding.”

“So glad you were there,” Harry said, reaching back and patting my shoulder.

I saw the confused look on Candice’s face, so I told her, “I healed Sheila’s wounds. I’m what the Bible calls a ‘peacemaker.’” Candice flinched at the mention of the Bible, as if it were a curse. “Anyway… so, when I was there, I saw a gnasher there too. The one who drove this truck. And he had his eyes on you. Well, I think it was you. Were you at the Conoco earlier?”

Candice tensed up, her eyes wide, as if she’d been caught stealing from her mother’s purse. “Umm… yeah…” she mumbled.

I continued, “Then, at the drugstore, I saw half a dozen gnashers, and they were all watching you. As you know, all heck broke loose--”

Candice smirked. “Did you really just say ‘heck’?”

Harry chuckled.

“You know what I mean!” I snapped, now too frustrated with her to be as gentle as I should have been. “You were shoplifting pills when we found you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off, “Don’t start. I know that’s what you were up to, because when we were locked in the bathroom Harry started convulsing and vomiting.” I pointed an accusatory finger at her face. “You came out of the stall and specifically asked if he had taken any pills.”

A look of recognition, followed by the sting of betrayal crossed Harry’s face.

Candice shrunk back further into her corner and pulled her hood forward, until it concealed her eyes.

“Tell the truth now,” I said, my tone still far harsher than it needed to be. “Did you swallow a handful of pills when we were in the bathroom?”

For a few seconds, the only sounds in that vehicle were the howling of the dust storm outside and the occasional rattling of the partially-dislocated bumper.

“Did you?” I insisted.

“Yes!” Candice spat and swore. “Yes, and in the gas station bathroom I cut my wrists. Are you happy?”

“But you didn’t die?”

“Oh, this one’s a regular Einstein!” Candice snapped. “No, I didn’t die!” She swore and cursed again.

“How many times?” I asked. “How many times have you tried to kill yourself and failed?”

Candice folded her arms. “What do you care?”

“You wanted to know why the gnashers are after you.” I leaned forward, making it harder for her to avoid looking at me. “I do too. Now, tell me, how many times have you attempted suicide?”

Candice paused a moment longer, glancing between me and Harry. Both of us stared intently. Harry was clearly enraptured in this mystery now, silently begging her for the answer.

She licked her lips, then finally spat out. “Six! Six times!” Harry and Sheila both drew in sharp breaths at her confession. “Slit wrists, toaster in the bathtub, pills, running car in the garage, jumped in front of a speeding semi-truck, and hanging. Every time, my injuries healed up instantly, like I’m in a comic book or something, only my life’s Hell.”

After a moment of stunned silence, I said, “Revelation 9:6. And in those days people will seek death and not be able to find it.”

“Is that for real?” Harry asked. “I mean, is that really what it says?”

“I’m paraphrasing a little,” I told him. “But the gist is the same. People wanting to die and being unable to. Candice, you are one of those people.” She groaned at this and buried her face in her folded arms. “You can’t die, and others suffer the wounds you inflict on yourself.” A chill washed over me as the pieces connected in my mind. “And that’s why the gnashers want you so badly. If you can’t die, they can feed on you forever.” I trembled. “It’s why they want me, too. I can heal people, so they want me to heal their victims so they can feed on them again. Candice, you said your life was Hell before, but if they get a hold of us they’ll give us a real taste of Hell.”

..........

“Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse: the blessing, if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God which I command you today; and the curse, if you do not obey the commandments of the Lord your God, but turn aside from the way which I command you today,”

-Deuteronomy 11:26-28