Kaitlyn's heart started to race as she turned back ahead. She hugged her handbag to her breasts. She could see the bus stop now—it was just ahead. But it didn't ease her fears. What was she going to do when she reached it? The bus was still ten minutes away. A lot could happen in ten minutes. A lot could happen in two minutes.

Her mind whirred at the possibilities. She could call the police. But what would she tell them? That she thought the man behind her was stalking her, for no other reason other than he was simply there on the same dark and lonely street?

Kaitlyn looked over her shoulder again. He was still following, his hands still tucked into his pants, his face still lowered. He was actually quite a big man, tall and broad and possibly muscular beneath his heavy sweater. She hadn't realised that back in the bar when he'd been sitting hunched over his table in his lonely corner. It made her heart skip a beat.

She turned back and to her relief saw two more men up ahead. They'd just turned the corner further down the street and were walking towards her. Both were dressed in identical heavy cloaks and broad-rimmed hats. Maybe she could ask to join them. Maybe she could ask for help. Maybe they could chase "Grey Hoodie" down, tackle him and kick him in the guts.

The bus stop came and went as she kept walking. The realisation that she was actually doing this made her heart thunder. Things like this never happened to her. She could hear him behind her. In her increasing terror, his footsteps were sounding as loud as a beating drum. He was walking faster. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she also picked up the pace, her heels clacking much too loudly against the footpath. It was difficult in her heels. How was she going to run?

'Wait, Kaitlyn!' came his familiar husky voice. 'Stop! Keep away from them!'

She whipped her head back over her shoulder. Grey Hoodie was almost running now. With a shriek, she raced towards the two men. 'Help me!' she cried. 'He's chasing me!'

Both the men looked up. Only metres away, she slowed, then stopped. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right about them. Though she couldn't think what. It was just a feeling. An instinct. Run. Run! A cold shiver darted up her spine. Clutching onto her handbag like it was a shield, she started to back away. The two men kept walking towards her steadily, wordlessly. A streetlight they passed beneath blinked out.

'Kaitlyn!' Grey Hoodie's footsteps were like thunder now.

She turned back and raised her hand against a sudden sharp light that split the night. There came the squeal of tires and the roar of an engine. Vaguely, she saw that Grey Hoodie was sprinting, the lights from the vehicle speeding on the road behind him casting him in a blinding glow. Everything felt so surreal, like she was dreaming.

The car roared past. Kaitlyn screamed as it left the road, veering onto the footpath straight towards the two men.

All she could do was watch.

One dove out of the way into the bushes. The other wasn't so quick. With several nasty thuds, he rolled up the bonnet, onto the roof and down the other side. Kaitlyn turned her head with a wince as he hit the footpath with a sickening smack. It was a sound she would remember forever. When she turned back he was a mangled lump on the ground. The car had pulled to a stop on the footpath further ahead, its headlights illuminating the trees of a nearby park.

Silence fell. The streetlight blinked back on. Frozen, Kaitlyn stared.

'Kaitlyn.' A warm hand slid into hers.

With a shriek, she turned. She tried to rip herself away, but he was so strong! 'Let go. Let go! LET GO!'

'Hey! What's going on over there?' Both Kaitlyn and Grey Hoodie looked over their shoulders. Three young men had stopped and were watching them from further down the street.

Kaitlyn's heart leapt hopefully. 'He won't let me go! He's been following me and now he won't let me go!'

She tried to yank out of his grasp again and this time she slipped free, staggering backwards in surprise. His hood fell back and she saw him for the first time—much too clearly. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with his face? It was ... it was ...

Bright.

Kaitlyn backed away. Her handbag slid off her shoulder and hit the ground. She turned at the sound of a moan. It was the man who'd been hit by the car.

Grey Hoodie seized her again, gripping her wrist so hard she cried out.

'Look at him,' he said, his breath hot against the back of her neck. 'Look at him.'

The man moaned again as Kaitlyn obeyed.

From somewhere behind her, she heard the thudding footsteps of the three men racing over to help. They were yelling something but the blood thundering in her ears muffled their voices. All she could do was stare.

The man was getting up—or trying to—flopping around like a dying fish, tangled up in his cloak. He'd lost his hat and Kaitlyn could see long, black hair sticking to his face. Clearly broken, his left arm was dangling by his side. His legs weren't any better. In fact, they were so much worse, sickeningly worse—bent in the wrong direction. It was confusing and it took her several moments before she realised that it wasn't his legs that were the problem. It was, in fact, his neck. He was facing the wrong way. He was facing the wrong way.

AND HE WAS ALIVE.

As though caught in a dream, Kaitlyn turned her head as the driver's door of the car opened. Someone climbed out. Vaguely, she heard the trio of men come to a stop somewhere behind her.

'What the fuck is going on?' one of them said.

'Lady, are you all right?'

'What the hell is that?' another spoke in horror, clearly referring to the man with the broken neck.

'Jesus, forget about her. Let's get the hell out of here!'

Their footsteps faded down the street. Now Kaitlyn was alone with these strange men and this inexplicable twisting, lurching, impossible ... thing.

'Impossible,' Kaitlyn whispered as she watched him.

'No, it's very much possible. All too possible.' Grey Hoodie loosened his grip from around her wrist.

The man from the car also wore a hoodie, the red beam of the car's rear lights making him gleam eerily. He was holding a red jerrycan in his left hand. The squirming man tried to get up, only to flop back down again with a grunt.

'If she is the one, we need to get moving,' the new man said.

'She is the one,' Grey Hoodie replied.

Kaitlyn opened and shut her mouth stupidly. Were they talking about her?

Mutely, she watched as the new man walked over to the squirming man and poured out the contents of the jerrycan on top of him. For a moment she couldn't think what it might be. Then she smelled it—petrol.

'Be careful, there's another one around,' Grey Hoodie said.

With a nod, the new man reached into his pocket and pulled something out. There was a sharp scratch. A small, orange glow flared between his fingers.

Kaitlyn sucked in a breath.

He flicked the match and the man caught ablaze. Just like that, he went up in flames. Kaitlyn felt nothing. She felt empty. Watching calmly as the man burned alive. Why wasn't she doing anything? Why wasn't she screaming? It was a strange thing to watch, the way the flames seemed to roll up his clothes. It didn't seem real. And she suddenly wondered if this was all just a trick. Was she just the unwitting player in the middle of a prank?

The fire lit up his face and it made him seem like he was eyeless, as though two empty sockets were gazing back at her. It was as though he was already dead.

Then the flames utterly consumed him and they were suddenly so high they jabbed at the sky like pointing fingers. His screaming filled the night. It was so loud, so screeching. She'd never heard someone scream like that before. He flailed about, waving his one good arm, before throwing himself on the ground. He tried to roll but the flames were much too hot to douse. Kaitlyn's eyes drifted to one side. Her head suddenly seemed so heavy, rolling on her neck. She felt cold. Her knees buckled but Grey Hoodie wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her against his chest before she could fall.

'You will come to understand,' he breathed in her ear.

She flopped in his arms as he turned her around and hoisted her over his shoulder. Kaitlyn didn't fight. She didn't move. She wasn't even sure she was breathing. The footpath rolled past as he walked. Vaguely, she thought his boots looked new and expensive. Her lungs filled with the smell of smoke and burning flesh and petrol fumes. Her ears rang with the sound of screaming.

A cold, prickling sensation began at the back of her neck before trickling down her spine. It swept through her body in an icy wave.

Blackness devoured her.