Page 81 of What Rough Beast

“Hailey,” Micah says. He tries to step forward, but his leg folds and he goes down, still talking. “I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry—”

She blinks, eyes glittering, turns to me.

And then she punches me in the face.

Fifty-Three

Micah

Ava goes down, and I crawl, knowing only that she’s in danger, that something is wrong, that if I’m going to do anything with my life, be anything other than a coward and a piece of shit, it’s now.

“Ava!” I move toward her as she sits up, blood flowing from her nose, confusion on her face.

“What . . . ?”

It’s that night again, her eyelids flickering, confused, hurt.

Asking me what happened.

But this time, I won’t run away.

Fifty-Four

Ava

Hailey pushes me over, my back against the ground, the egg next to my head. There’s a cracking sound, a cry from Widow, something wet and warm splashing across my face. Tiny fingers curl in my hair, tug, saying hello. Inside me, everything stretches, and I feel myself leaving, lifting up, moving above, passing on.

“It’s okay; it’s okay,” Widow is saying, her voice low and calming, but not for me. “Don’t try to breathe, I have to clear your—”

“Not yet,” Hailey says, and then she’s hovering over me, fingers in my mouth, yanking my jaw down. Her mouth comes close to mine, a flowing, liquid stream of guttural German slipping past her lips, an echo of what Pete was trying to do at the beehive. Deep inside my shoulder, something moves, answering her call. It tears away burrowing, closing my throat. I choke, sputtering, fighting as Hailey holds my jaw open, still speaking, her voice a low hum. My body bucks, spine hitting the earth as my heart jerks and sputters, asking me—What do I want? What do I need?

But I can’t answer with my mouth or my mind, because there’s something filling both, something warm and wet and heavy. It clogs my throat, a million legs scraping the sides as it climbs, answering Hailey, coming to her. A rush of froth comes up with it, white streaked with red, and Hailey reaches into my mouth, yanks. It comes free, a long, white, writhing thing, thin, gossamer legs reaching, looking for purchase. Its head swings blindly, eyeless, mouth gaping, searching, teeth snapping.

“Ava?”

Micah leans over me, ignoring all else.

“Ava, are you okay?”

I turn my head, look at him. Feel nothing. Hailey shoves him, and he falls onto his back, leg folding underneath him. She straddles his chest and grabs his lower jaw. He cries out as something cracks, his mouth open wide. Hailey doesn’t hesitate, rams her fist between his teeth, the Zertrenner slipping between her fingers, disappearing between his lips.

“Typhus,” she says, voice flinty. “Breathe.”

Fifty-Five

Micah

I have a moment, the space of a breath.

I’m choking and then it’s gone, heat tearing through my spine, then my chest, traveling to each shoulder, a cross of fire ripped open inside of me.

There’s nothing but pain, my thoughts finally quiet, because the worst already happened and what comes next will be the last thing.

But there is something, a last flicker, not a thought, but a feeling.

What do you need? Hailey had asked Ava. There’s still time. If you need someone to be safe, if you need someone . . .

Something stretches, tears, releases. I look at Ava, try to smile.