The Stones of Angkor

EPILOGUE

It wasn’t fair. He had given up. He had given in. He had even donated blood, for God’s sake. How many times did they ask him to give blood, day after day, and how many times did he say no?

Never. Not once. Not fucking once.

And here he was anyway, running for his life.

It wasn’t fair. God, why was it so damn unfair?

He was a good guy. He tried to do the right things. He even took care of those women and that idiot out of Oklahoma. But then they finally reached the island and that bitch Lara, and everything fell apart.

It was so unfair. Why was the world so goddamn unfair?

West could hear them, even though he couldn’t see them. Not that it was easy to see anything in the pitch darkness. There was barely any moonlight. Even the moon was hiding behind the clouds, giving him almost nothing to navigate by. It was all he could do not to trip or run right into a tree. Even so, he had stopped counting the number of times a branch slashed at his body, slicing at his cheeks and drawing blood. At least the new scars took his mind off his old wounds.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair!

Another branch nearly took his head off, but he ducked just in time, felt the leaves brushing against his already wet hair. Even out here in the chilly night, he was sweating from every pore.

How long had he been running? A few minutes? A few hours? It was hard to tell. Time was an elusive bastard.

His body ached from head to toe. The old wounds were coming back with a fury.

But he kept running, because there was no other choice. He couldn’t go back. They wouldn’t let him go back. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t out here alone. He was never good at being alone, that’s why he and Brody got along so well. It was good to have someone watching your back, someone you could trust. But Brody went and got his head blown off by that Mexican on the island—

Snap!

West told himself not to look back, to keep running. Don’t stop. Don’t look back and don’t stop. There was nothing back there but death.

Don’t look back!

But he couldn’t help himself and he looked back.

It glared at him from a tree branch, perched like some kind of gargoyle from hell, prune-black skin almost invisible against the unrelenting darkness of the woods. But he could see its eyes — bright blue, gleaming like a pair of precious jewels.

He had always heard the whispers, people who claimed to have seen them in person. Blue-eyed bloodsuckers. West had scoffed at the idea. Now, looking back, he wondered if he had just dismissed the stories because he chose not to believe, because believing opened up possibilities he didn’t want to accept.

It stood up on the branch, stretching, until it was upright. It looked so human that for a moment he found himself staring, even as he ran and—

He stumbled and fell and rolled, tucking in his shoulders at the last moment (You idiot!), until his forward momentum drove him into the trunk of a large tree. Pain exploded across his body and he ended up on his stomach, writhing in the dirt on the wet ground.

No! No!

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he managed to turn over on his back, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up. Instead, he reached up to his head, where most of the pain was coming from. He felt something sticky against his palm.

Blood. Of course he was bleeding. His skull had probably split open.

Tap-tap.

West looked up and saw the blue-eyed creature crouched on a branch above him (How did it get up there so fast?), looking down at him with something approaching…amusement? Was the damn thing having fun at his expense?

It’s so unfair.

Its blue eyes really did seem to glow up close, but that could just have been the contrast of blue against black. Or maybe his mind was making all of this up, a result of the concussion and subsequent pain. That was possible, too.

Crunch-crunch.

West looked forward as another blue-eyed creature walked toward him — slowly, effortlessly, in that strange motion that was at once so human and supernatural.

There were two of them?

Crunch-crunch.

No, not two. He wished there were just two, because a third one was coming out of the night to his right, blue eyes blazing.

Then he looked to his left, at a fourth one.

Four of them. My God. There are four of them.

The one above him jumped down, startling him. West kicked at the dirt with his shoes and scooted back until he bumped against the tree. Oh God. Now he was trapped. He had no place to go.

It’s so unfair…

They stood around him in a half circle, watching him. There was something about one of the blue-eyed creatures that looked different. It took him a few seconds of staring before he finally realized what it was. The other three were male, but this one, the one standing closest to him, was female. He was sure of it. There were even small bumps on its chest where breasts used to be. And the hips were wider, though he couldn’t imagine what it would need wide hips for anymore.

The female blue-eyed bloodsucker smiled at him. “Run,” it said, its voice almost a hiss, breaking through the natural sounds of the woods.

Fear sliced through West’s core like thousands of knives. He didn’t understand. Run? Did it want him to run?

Then it did something else he had never seen the creatures do — the female smiled at him.

“Run,” it said again.

He scrambled up with some difficulty, his sneakers slipping under him. The blood was still coming down the side of his head, and it was hard to keep his balance as a result. That was it, wasn’t it? It was the bleeding, not the crushing terror that made every step precarious, every movement extraordinarily clumsy.

Somehow, he managed to climb back to his feet. He turned, skirted the tree, and continued fleeing through the woods. He tasted blood in his mouth, more dripping down his chin. He must have gashed himself even more than he thought.

He wiped at a thick patch of it and flicked it away.

Snap-snap!

West told himself not to look back. He knew what was back there. He shouldn’t look back. He should keep running for all he was worth.

How did it all go so wrong? He wasn’t a bad guy. What did he ever do to deserve this?

He looked up at the sky, but he couldn’t see much of anything over the thick tree canopy swaying against a slight breeze. How long before the sun came out? How long before he could stop running?

Too long. Too damn long.

Crunch-crunch!

He screamed at himself not to look back. He knew what was back there. How many were back there. Four. There were four of them.

Four!

And they were playing with him. This was a game, one he had no choice but to take part in, because the alternative was to sit down and die. He couldn’t do that. West wasn’t a quitter. If he had been, he would never have survived the end of the world.

Screw that. West was a fighter. It was too bad Brody wasn’t here with him. He could have used his buddy’s help. The two of them could take on anything…

…except an island led by a little blonde girl.

No!

He saw the tree branch on the ground, twenty yards away. It was as long as his arm and twice as big. He used to play baseball when he was a kid. He was good as it, too. Then again, sports always came naturally to him.

You wanna play? Let’s play!

West went low at the last second and snatched up the branch just as he was about to pass it. At the same time, he dug the heels of his sneakers into the soft, wet ground, slowing down his momentum until he came to a complete stop.

He spun around, clutching the tree branch with both hands, raising it back, imagining that he was choking up on a Louisville slugger.

He turned, ready, shouting, “Come get me, you bastards! Come get me!” so loud that his throat stretched and ached.

West became aware of a madman laughing hysterically somewhere in the woods.