aimed for Scarlet, his teeth pointing right for her throat.
CHAPTER THREE
Sam woke to a splitting headache. He reached up with both hands and held his head, trying to make the pain go away. But it wouldn’t. It felt like the entire world was coming down on his skull.
Sam tried to open his eyes, to figure out where he was, and as he did, the pain was unbearable. Blinding sunlight bounced off of desert rock, forcing him to shield his eyes and lower his head. He felt himself lying on a rocky, desert floor, felt the dry heat, felt the dust rising up into his face. He curled up in a fetal position and held his head tighter, trying to make the pain go away.
Memories came flooding back.
First, there was Polly.
He remembered Caitlin’s wedding night. The night he proposed to Polly. Her saying yes. The joy on her face.
He remembered the next day. His going on his hunt. His anticipation of their night to come.
He remembered finding her. On the beach. Dying. Her telling him about their baby.
Waves of grief came rushing back. It was more than he could handle. It was like a terrible nightmare re-running in his head, one he could not switch off. He felt that all he had left to live for was stripped away from him, all in one grand moment. Polly. The baby. Life as he knew it.
He wished he’d died at that moment.
Then he remembered his vengeance. His rage. Killing Kyle.
And the moment that everything changed. He remembered Kyle’s spirit infusing him. He remembered the indescribable feeling of rage, of another person’s spirit and soul and energy invading his, possessing him completely. It was the moment Sam stopped being who he was. It was the moment he became someone else.
Sam opened his eyes completely, and he sensed, he knew, they were glowing bright red. He knew they were no longer his. He knew they were now Kyle’s.
He felt Kyle’s hatred, felt Kyle’s power, racing through him, through every ounce of his body, from his toes, through his legs, up his arms, all the way to his head. He felt Kyle’s need for destruction pulsing through every ounce of him, like a living thing, like something stuck in his body that he could not get out. He felt as if he were no longer in control of himself. A part of him missed the old Sam, missed who he was. But another part of him knew he would never be that person again.
Sam heard a hissing, rattling noise, and opened his eyes. His face lay flat on the rocks of the desert floor, and as he looked up, he saw a rattlesnake, just inches away, hissing at him. The rattlesnake’s eyes looked right into Sam’s, as if it were communing with a friend, sensing a similar energy. He could sense that the snake’s rage matched his—and that it was about to strike.
But Sam was not afraid. On the contrary—he found himself filled with a rage not only equal to the snake’s, but greater. And reflexes to match.
In the split second in which the snake geared up to strike, Sam beat him to it: he reached out with his own hand, grabbed the stake by the throat in mid-air area, and stopped it from biting him while just an inch away from his face. Sam held the snake’s eyes close to his, staring at it so close that he could smell its breath, its long fangs only an inch away, dying to enter Sam’s throat.
But Sam overpowered it. He squeezed harder and harder, and watched as he slowly drained the life from it. It went limp in his hand, crushed to death.
Sam leaned back and hurled it across the desert floor.
Sam jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. All around him were dirt and rocks—an endless stretch of desert. He turned, and as he did, he noticed two things: first, there was a group of small children, dressed in rags, standing close, looking up at him curiously. As he spun towards them they scattered, hurrying back, watching warily, as if watching a wild animal rise from the grave. Sam felt Kyle’s rage rush through him, and felt like killing all of them.
But the
CHAPTER THREE
Sam woke to a splitting headache. He reached up with both hands and held his head, trying to make the pain go away. But it wouldn’t. It felt like the entire world was coming down on his skull.
Sam tried to open his eyes, to figure out where he was, and as he did, the pain was unbearable. Blinding sunlight bounced off of desert rock, forcing him to shield his eyes and lower his head. He felt himself lying on a rocky, desert floor, felt the dry heat, felt the dust rising up into his face. He curled up in a fetal position and held his head tighter, trying to make the pain go away.
Memories came flooding back.
First, there was Polly.
He remembered Caitlin’s wedding night. The night he proposed to Polly. Her saying yes. The joy on her face.
He remembered the next day. His going on his hunt. His anticipation of their night to come.
He remembered finding her. On the beach. Dying. Her telling him about their baby.
Waves of grief came rushing back. It was more than he could handle. It was like a terrible nightmare re-running in his head, one he could not switch off. He felt that all he had left to live for was stripped away from him, all in one grand moment. Polly. The baby. Life as he knew it.
He wished he’d died at that moment.
Then he remembered his vengeance. His rage. Killing Kyle.
And the moment that everything changed. He remembered Kyle’s spirit infusing him. He remembered the indescribable feeling of rage, of another person’s spirit and soul and energy invading his, possessing him completely. It was the moment Sam stopped being who he was. It was the moment he became someone else.
Sam opened his eyes completely, and he sensed, he knew, they were glowing bright red. He knew they were no longer his. He knew they were now Kyle’s.
He felt Kyle’s hatred, felt Kyle’s power, racing through him, through every ounce of his body, from his toes, through his legs, up his arms, all the way to his head. He felt Kyle’s need for destruction pulsing through every ounce of him, like a living thing, like something stuck in his body that he could not get out. He felt as if he were no longer in control of himself. A part of him missed the old Sam, missed who he was. But another part of him knew he would never be that person again.
Sam heard a hissing, rattling noise, and opened his eyes. His face lay flat on the rocks of the desert floor, and as he looked up, he saw a rattlesnake, just inches away, hissing at him. The rattlesnake’s eyes looked right into Sam’s, as if it were communing with a friend, sensing a similar energy. He could sense that the snake’s rage matched his—and that it was about to strike.
But Sam was not afraid. On the contrary—he found himself filled with a rage not only equal to the snake’s, but greater. And reflexes to match.
In the split second in which the snake geared up to strike, Sam beat him to it: he reached out with his own hand, grabbed the stake by the throat in mid-air area, and stopped it from biting him while just an inch away from his face. Sam held the snake’s eyes close to his, staring at it so close that he could smell its breath, its long fangs only an inch away, dying to enter Sam’s throat.
But Sam overpowered it. He squeezed harder and harder, and watched as he slowly drained the life from it. It went limp in his hand, crushed to death.
Sam leaned back and hurled it across the desert floor.
Sam jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. All around him were dirt and rocks—an endless stretch of desert. He turned, and as he did, he noticed two things: first, there was a group of small children, dressed in rags, standing close, looking up at him curiously. As he spun towards them they scattered, hurrying back, watching warily, as if watching a wild animal rise from the grave. Sam felt Kyle’s rage rush through him, and felt like killing all of them.
But the
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