“Water?” Gertrude asked.
Topher wiped his finger off in the dirt.
“No.”
Something thumped nearby, then dragged itself along. Friday went rigid, straining against Topher, who struggled to hold onto his collar. The dragging was followed by pattering as if from dozens of tiny feet.
Friday barked.
“Friday, hush!”
The dog groaned and whined, pulling as hard as he could.
Another thump, louder this time, followed by the drag and scrabble. Friday was frothing at the mouth, and his bark grew shrill and hysterical. He lunged.
“Goddammit, Friday!”
Another thump, another drag, another scrabble, and this time it was close, very close, and Friday snapped his jaws in the air, and the stench of rotten flesh overwhelmed them all, and Gertrude spun and trained his flashlight on the path behind the
