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Somehow Macy stayed ahead of the swarm as they dined on raw goat, but she could hear the rustling of low-hanging leaves and the clomping of hooves. She didn’t have much of a lead.
She didn’t choose her path. She just ran, branches slapping at her legs and arms and face. Each slap stung as if she’d been cut anew, but she didn’t stop until she crashed into the clearing, crossed the empty space, and threw herself into the barn. Her stomach roiled at the prospect of what she might find, but she pushed down the fear and crept forward through the broken- down haunted house. When she made it to the room where Kat and Olivia had once been, her heart sank. Blood pooled on the floor, but Macy saw neither of them.
She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying the goring of the goat, only this time those tusks tore through Olivia, driving her to the ground and ending her short life.
“No,” she muttered, trying to shake off the horrific images.
Nothing looked disturbed. Walls hadn’t been toppled. The various props hadn’t been moved on her way in. Perhaps the swarm never tried to enter the barn.
Though she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that the pigs would be able to find her by smell alone, Macy tried to stay quiet when she whispered, “Kat? Olivia?”
Nothing. She moved forward, further into the haunt, only to stop when she heard a creak. Not of wood, but of metal. The way a folding chair did when its weight shifted. Immediately, Macy knew where to go: back into the room she’d left Kat. She pushed against the wall, only now noticing that it had been moved back to its original position. She slipped through to see them. Her heart had fluttered all night with fear, but now it beat with hope.
Olivia sat in one of the old folding chairs. Kat lay nearby on the floor, her foot propped up on another of the chairs.
“Macy!” Olivia yelled, far too loudly.
She sprinted from her chair and slammed her body hard into Macy’s, swallowing her up in an epic hug. It hurt, though, and Macy couldn’t stop herself from letting out a groan.
Olivia backed up. “Are you okay?”
No. She’d nearly been eaten by pigs—twice—and killed a guy. Not to mention watching a cage match between a feral goat and a demon pig. It had been a strange, very not-okay night.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she lied anyway. “How’s your mom?”
From the floor, Kat responded directly. “I think I’m okay. Won’t be running a marathon anytime soon.”
“Have you ever run a marathon?”
“Well, no. But now I suddenly want to.”
Macy let out a small laugh, quickly halted by her bruised chest pressing against the body armor she still wore. It had become like a second skin to her. When she’d put it on, she thought surely it meant she’d eventually get shot. Now it just seemed like unneeded weight. She got to work removing it.
“Where did you go?” Olivia asked, almost as if she meant to follow it with a lecture.
“I got attacked.”
“By those mean pigs?”
Macy nodded.
“What about Weiss?” Kat asked.
Macy’s chest seized up at the question. Tears tumbled out of her eyes, as panic set in. “Dead.”
“Good riddance.”
Macy wanted to finish. To say that she’d done it. That she’d killed a man and that she’d never recover. That whether she survived tonight or not, she’d never be the same. But she let all that die in her throat.
When Macy didn’t respond, Kat continued, “I wonder what he was talking about. What he thought we knew.”
Macy considered telling Kat what she knew. About the body in the shed. The dead cops. But she couldn’t, not with Olivia listening.
“You were safe in here?” she asked instead, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Yeah.” Kat swung her legs down and pulled herself up into the chair. “It was Olivia’s idea to come in here. I don’t know if they ever came, but we didn’t hear them.”
Seemed odd. Surely they could have smelled the two humans just a few feet inside a barn, with broken doors and holes in the ceiling.
“Maybe we should just stay in here until someone finds us,” Macy suggested.
Kat took a beat to study the blood-soaked coat around her waist, then Olivia, before settling her gaze on Macy. “I think I need a hospital.”
“Yeah, but Dad has to be close, right?”
“How would he know to look out here? It could be hours. Days, even, if no one knows this barn is out here.”
“Oh they know,” Macy said. “This place used to be famous, I think. There are signs. And I saw pictures in the old man’s house. I think something horrible happened here.”
Kat exhaled sharply—a sound that may have turned into a laugh under different circumstances—and then motioned to her torso. “You mean worse than this?”
Macy nodded. “Yeah. Something way worse.”
The three fell silent. Macy had spent the entire night running. She was in pain, tired, and ready to give up. Staying put seemed more enticing than leaving. Going into those woods had provided her nothing good in the past few hours. But what if Kat was right? What if no one found them for days? What if Kat died because of it? Macy couldn’t be responsible for another death. Even in her panicked, concussed state, she knew it would undo her forever.
“Do you think you can walk?” Macy asked.
Kat shifted her weight. “With help, I think. Or there’s the wheelbarrow. That’s how I got here.”
Macy nodded. “Okay. I’ll go get it.”
“Can I go with you? I’ll help protect you.” Olivia asked.
“Your mom needs you,” Macy insisted.
“So do you.”
“That’s true. I do.”
The fact that it was true felt a little strange. She’d been an only child her entire life. Macy’s insides felt suddenly squishy and warm. Maybe having a little sister wouldn’t be that bad after all.
Sister. Yeah. She liked that.
From her chair, Kat chimed in. “She’ll be right back, Liv. Come over here. I really want to hear about your adventures.”
Olivia looked hesitant at first, but eventually acquiesced to her mother’s demand. Macy watched the two together and felt the crushing doubt of trying to run. The pigs might just kill them all. She knew she didn’t have a choice, but she hated that she didn’t.
“Hey,” she said. “Before I go... I, uh, I just want you two to know...” She trailed off as she realized what she’d almost said; wondered if it’d be too weird, but then pushed herself forward anyway. “I love you. Both. You’re the best sister and mom a girl could ask for.”
Kat’s eyes misted with tears. Macy smiled, and slipped out before she got a response. She didn’t need one. It wasn’t about her. Nothing was.
Back through the haunt, she came out the doors and looked to her left at the rusty wheelbarrow. It would be slow trying to push Kat in that thing. Macy had tried using wheelbarrows before and they were deceptively difficult to use. She’d often wondered why they even existed. One wheel? Why not two? Why not four? Surely there had to be some reason, but it didn’t make sense to her.
She didn’t really flinch when she heard the thunder of hooves. She expected it. Knew somehow that the pigs would have followed her here. They came running down the main path in a stampede, one mass of flesh moving forward with the speed of the Gods. As they came around a bend in the path, she saw all of them. The tiny ones. The big ones. The ones with sprouting tusks. She could see the colors of them. That whitish pink pig color, most of them, but others had wiry brown hair.
Then—she heard the hum of an engine. Only then did she also see the beams of headlights illuminating the herd. A vehicle tore around the corner, its back wheels catching in the mud and fishtailing it towards a tree. Traction from the front wheels saved it just in time.
Not cops. She didn’t see any lights on top, and it wasn’t a squad car. It was bigger. Much bigger. A Suburban.
Dad’s Suburban!
Once he made it to the straightaway, he slammed the gas and surged forward, knocking pigs at the rear of the pack out of the way. Panicked squeals erupted. Some were dragged down, clanging against the undercarriage. Macy waved both of her arms wildly in the air, praying that he saw her, simultaneously wondering how he even knew about this place.
The broken-down archway leading into the haunt proved too narrow for the SUV, so he came screeching to a halt just outside of it, the swarm massing towards her. She stood her ground. Needed to know that he saw her. He slammed the door open hard; a pig pushed out of the way by the force of the door. Standing on the running board, he leveled a rifle between the door and the A-frame. Shot after shot rang out. Pigs grunted and squealed, falling against their packmates.
“Dad!” she yelled.
He didn’t stop firing, but he wouldn’t have nearly enough bullets for all of them. Where was the leader?
As if on cue, the Suburban rocked forward, causing Cam to lose his balance and slip. The rifle fell from his hands. She had to get to him.
A tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Olivia looking up at her, gripping the shaft of the old, rusted shovel that Macy had left with them earlier.
“Here,” she said.
Macy hadn’t had much luck with shovels so far, but she took it anyway. “Thanks. Now get back inside. Don’t come out until I tell you.”
Olivia nodded and retreated into the barn. Macy screwed up her courage, gripped the shovel as if she could make it a part of her body, and waded into the fray.
She’d never swung anything so hard. Each clang reverberated up her arm and left her with more resolve. Every cut and scrape provided fuel. As much as she questioned her ability to do anything heroic, she stopped worrying about that. Stopped worrying about her life. For the first time all night, Macy felt the powerful endorphins of unbridled indignant anger.
She was done with this shit.
When they tried to swarm her and knock her off balance, she kicked hard at their bellies. Most of them retreated at the blow. She didn’t aim. She just swung, sometimes connecting with their heads and sometimes with their haunches. A few times, she cut their legs out from under them. She’d ascribed them with so much purpose earlier, but now it just felt like chaos. Pure chaos.
She quickly learned that sweeping the shovel back and forth in front of her scattered enough of them that she could press forward. Some of the ones with small tusks tried to nip at her legs, but she kneed them in the face. Her dad hadn’t gotten back to his feet yet. She knew what that felt like. Knew how hopeless it could feel. It seemed like miles between them.
After making it halfway through the swarm, she made the mistake of looking back. The mass of pigs had closed behind her, leaving her surrounded, drowning in an ocean of swine. But she wouldn’t drown. She would swim. Forward she pressed.
When the pigs proved too stubborn for the shovel or the kicks, Macy yelled at them.
“Move!”
“Die!”
“I hate you!”
“Go to hell!”
She said anything and everything. The outbursts pushed her forward, stealing away the time and effort so that it didn’t feel so hopeless. Hundreds of expletives later, she finally found herself at the Suburban. The pigs rippled around her legs, but she managed to get a foot up to scramble onto the bumper, then the hood, dropping the shovel to speed her ascent. She lowered to her stomach to peer over the edge of the driver’s side, desperately looking for her dad. She found nothing. Just the rifle, trampled into the mud.
“Dad?” she hollered. Her voice sounded paltry against the might of the swarm.
Hoping for a better view, she made her way up the windshield and onto the roof. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of it, but then, Macy was starting to believe that she could do a lot more than she gave herself credit for. As soon as she made it and peered towards the back of the Suburban, she regretted it.
Beady eyes glimmered from the shadows. She could just barely make out the goat blood caked over its tusks. But the pig-monster didn’t look at her. It looked below her. Six feet away from the bumper, her dad stood resolutely. In an almost ritualistic way, the other pigs gave Cam a wide berth, leaving the path between him and the leader open. He didn’t have any weapons, dressed only in jeans and a tucked-in, button-down western shirt. His cowboy hat sat beside him in the mud.
“Dad!” she yelled.
He turned cautiously, meeting her gaze. She wanted warmth. Comfort. Some promise that everything would be okay, but she didn’t get that. She got the dad who looked strong, sure, but one who also couldn’t see the out.
She’d seen it before. When he assured the town that they’d bring down the Beast, but couldn’t really believe it himself. When he told her that he’d be fine without her mother, but not-so-secretly cried every night. When he smiled and hugged her and told her she’d do great at college, but couldn’t hide the fear brewing in his eyes.
Macy had a deep and compassionate heart. Most assumed it came from her mother. Shandi always wore her heart on her sleeve. But it didn’t come from her mom. It came from her dad. He loved her so deeply that he lived in fear of losing the things he loved the most. It made him hard. Gruff. But Macy saw the real man beneath. She’d only survived this night because of him.
It was her turn to be the rock he could lean on.
She dropped to her knees and lowered her hand. “Come on! I’ll help you up.”
He sprinted towards her, his boots kicking mud up in huge glops. The king pig started its charge, gaining ground as Cam surged forward.
His hand slapped into hers, large and rough. She gripped hard and pulled with all her strength. He hopped onto the bumper and threw his free hand up to help hoist his considerable weight. The pig-monster got there before she could get him up, ramming Cam’s lower leg. When the monster backed up, its tusks came away freshly wet. It hadn’t rammed his leg. It had gored it.
Macy pulled harder. Her muscles ached. The cuts and scrapes stretched and screamed in pain. Just as he got almost high enough to counterbalance gravity, the pig bit at his boot, clamped down, and pulled. The excruciating weight increased. She couldn’t do it. She’d tumble down with him if she did. They’d both die.
The rifle.
It wasn’t the choice she wanted to make. The thought of letting go of him almost overwhelmed her. But she needed to think rationally. She needed to save them both. For good.
“I’ve got you, dad,” she said through sobbing tears. “Trust me.”
She let go. He tumbled downward.
Faster than she’d ever moved, she slid back down to the hood, and to the ground. Fishing the rifle up from the mud, she suddenly remembered everything about shooting. Shock had given way to clarity. She trudged through the mud and swarming pigs, all the while making sure the gun had ammo. That it was ready to fire. If she’d never believed in herself before, now she did. She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t fail.
When she got to the back of the Suburban, the pigs had cleared out to form a circle where Cam valiantly tried to fight a pig from hell with only his bare hands. He punched and clawed, never letting himself get completely under the animal. Macy took a breath and raised the rifle to her shoulder.
You couldn’t even aim a stun-gun, Macy. You’re gonna shoot your dad.
“No I won’t,” she said out loud.
She aimed. Tanner was behind her, showing her how to hold her elbows. How to brace her legs. How to be sure that she’d hit her target. She’d never scored a bullseye. Never hit the target paper in the head. But now she understood that the only reason was lack of conviction. Lack of will. Lack of necessity.
She took in a breath and, slowly, squeezed the trigger. So focused, she barely felt the recoil. Birds (or maybe bats) scattered above at the boom of the shot. Time seemed to slow down. Cam stopped fighting and dropped his arms flat to the ground. The monster pig looked up. Glared at her.
Then—blood drenched its head. It slumped to the ground without even a fighting lunge. Macy held her breath. Waited for the other pigs to close in, but they didn’t. The movement stopped. Everything hung silent.
She dropped the rifle, and rushed to her father. The pig pinned his legs, but with the depth of the mud and what little strength she could offer, he managed to get out. He leaned on her as he stood. They shuffled towards the Suburban and the pigs closed in behind them, not maliciously this time. Hungry. Like the goat, they descended on their dead leader, gnawing at his hide, chewing on his flesh. Macy didn’t look back to see it. She didn’t need the visual.
She climbed in first, across the console and into the passenger seat, followed by him into the driver’s. He shut the door and leaned against the seat, sucking in breath, no doubt from the pain in his leg.
“Are Kat and Olivia...”
She took his hand and nodded, “They’re okay. In the barn.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, smelled his pungent aftershave. Her chest, bruised and bloodied, released a weight she’d been carrying for hours.
“It’s a long story,” she said through a sniffle. “Hospital first.”
He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head.
And for the briefest of moments, Macy believed that everything would be okay.
