Ravenous Read Free Page B

Jetta.
    Facing the front of the car, Emily pulled her denim jacket together in front—it was shudderingly cold.
    Something moved in the bushes to her left, the same side from which the frightening howl had come, and she took a step back from the car and turned the flashlight on the woods. The bright beam pierced the darkness and passed over some heavy ferns and thick tree trunks. The night smelled of the sea, and in the overwhelming silence, she could hear the whisper of the surf beyond the strip of woods.
    As she lowered the light, he rushed out of the woods, tattered clothes dangling all around him, a shadow that quickly took on features—wide silver eyes that weren’t right, somehow, they were wrong —
    No, that can’t be, she thought.
    â€”and then he was on her.
    Emily shifted into a murky, dream-like state as he grabbed her arms and his fingernails dug deeply into her flesh, piercing her denim jacket and her blouse and her skin. He reeked of filth and the stench of him clogged Emily’s nostrils.
    He spun around, dragging her with him, and threw her into the ditch. She landed on her side and rolled halfway up the ditch’s other side. Pain exploded in her ribs as she landed on a large rock. She fell still in a puddle and cold water shocked her through her clothes. She dropped the flashlight, which sent its beam this-way-and-that as it rolled back and forth in the ditch’s water. For a moment, he was gone—
    â€”then he was on her again, and she heard him growl as he tore at her clothing, ripping it loudly. She managed to scream as cold air touched the bare, wet parts of her body exposed by her attacker. Emily kicked her legs and flailed her arms, but when she tried to scream again, it caught in her suddenly dry throat like ground glass and remained lodged there.
    He continued to make low growling sounds in his throat, and something warm and wet spattered her face. It was spittle—he was slobbering on her as he growled, a sound punctuated by the clack-clack-clack of his jaws snapping shut repeatedly.
    The flashlight, in its final rolls back and forth just above her head in the ditch, passed its beam over his face, giving her a glimpse, just a glimpse, but it was more than she needed—his face would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. The face simply was not ... right. It was wrong in some way she could not yet define, in some way that her brain refused to process.
    Long stringy dark hair, with silver eyes—they were eyes that did not look human, like the rest of his long face.
    That was it—his face was too long, too narrow, somehow misshapen.
    More ripping as her clothes were torn from her body. Then she felt his fingers under her panties, and he tore through the panties with his sharp black claws, ripped them off of her and touched her most private place.
    He’s going to rape me! she thought.
    And then she screamed, a long ragged scream that was swallowed up by the night’s silence, a silence that towered over them like some invisible dome, holding her scream down, keeping it from reverberating or carrying, smothering it. She tried to close her legs, but he was already between them.
    She was dry and it hurt, but he was soon lubricated by his own fluids, and she continued to scream and fight as he pounded into her again and again.
    He panted furiously and continued to slobber on her, releasing a low growl each time he exhaled.
    He laughed then as he thrust into her harder, a deep, throaty laugh, nails scratching her and drawing blood. His long hair fell down over her face. His smell enveloped her like a filthy, oily blanket. Something happened to his throaty laughter—it became deeper, rougher.
    Emily’s hands began to claw the ground, searching desperately for a weapon, for something, anything she might use to stop him, to get him off of her.
    The thing on top of her screamed. It was a sickening sound, a sound that made her wish she were