The remains

Chapter 69

Then I spotted somebody else. A short, squat silhouette of a man.

I stared at the man through the dirt and tears. Only I was aware of him.

Franny.

It was Franny and he had something in his hand. An iron bar of some kind. A two or three foot length of rusted rebar.

Franny.

Franny was holding the iron bar two-fisted over Whalen’s head. Unaware of Franny’s presence, the monster went about his work filling in the trench, burying me. It was all happening now in slow motion, one frame slowly following another as that iron bar came down, smacking Whalen in the center of his skull. Even from deep down inside the trench, the sound of metal coming down against skull and bone was like a mallet smacked against a rotting pumpkin. His black eyes went wide as knees gave out; as he collapsed onto my dirt-covered stomach.

Franny dropped the iron bar to the floor.

He came to me, bent down, and extended his left hand.

“Safe. Safe, safe, safe.”