He changed directions again, crying out as the heavy leaves battered his face.

Something uttered a gut-wrenching roar directly behind him.

The goddamn cell phone kept buzzing at him.

“This is not a good time!” he growled.

As he ran, the corn suddenly began to shrink around him, withering away, and a chill cut through the August heat.

The remains of a very old tractor appeared, covered in rust and half buried in the parched soil.  He veered toward it, seized the wheel and vaulted over the metal seat, hoping to slow down his pursuers.

He risked a quick look back over his shoulder and saw three of the grotesque creatures converging on him, undeterred by the pitiful obstacle.

He turned forward again, running even harder, and barely avoided colliding with the broad trunk of a tree.

He didn’t even have time to wonder what the hell a tree was doing in the middle of a cornfield before the ground abruptly dropped from under his feet and he went sprawling down the side of a steep hill, cursing all the way to the bottom.

He landed hard in a dry creek bed, the gravel digging into his palms and elbows as he skidded to a halt, his injured shoulder flaring with pain.

But he had no time for pain.  He had to keep moving.

Sitting up, he found himself bathed in deep shadows.  Huge trees towered over him, surrounding him.

There was not an ear of corn in sight.  He now seemed to be in a dense forest.

Looking back up the hill he’d just maneuvered with even less grace than he might have handled an advanced ski slope, he saw a half-dozen tall shadows peering down at him, several of them already making their way down the hill after him.

Scrambling to his feet, Eric took off again, following the dry streambed along the ridge as fast as his feet would navigate the rough terrain.

He didn’t recognize any of this.  As with his ill-conceived venture into the Altrusk house, he was way off the map.

He tore through a thicket of brush, spooking a small flock of birds and catching a cluster of painful thorns in his right forearm.

For several minutes he ran, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder and always finding the yawning visage of one or more of the creatures close behind him.

He recalled now that he had continued to run along the road in his dream, past an area where the corn had grown stunted and small, to an old wooden bridge with planks that creaked underfoot as he raced across it.

By the time he reached the other side of the bridge, the things in the corn were gone and he never even saw what they looked like.

On-Time Dream Eric was a lucky son of a bitch.

A path crossed the streambed, offering surer footing, and Eric swerved to follow it even as the snarling and grunting behind him grew unnervingly close.

He crested a hill and raced down the other side.  Around him the trees grew larger and taller.  They were the biggest trees he’d ever seen in his life, at least as big as the giant California redwoods that he’d only seen in magazines and on television.

The blue sky seemed to pull away above him and the shadows deepened until the gloom began to envelop him.  It seemed to be growing dark out, though it was still hours before sunset.

In his dream, the corn gave way to more pastures filled with cows.  The sun shone brightly above.  He’d begun to sweat.  In one field, a young and playful palomino mare trotted up near the fence to investigate him.

The horror had ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving him shaken, but still unharmed.

Here in the waking world, Eric glanced behind him, but he could no longer tell the monsters from the shadows.  Even their snarls had mingled together until he could no longer discern how close they were getting or from what angle they might pounce.

He rounded a curve in the path and glimpsed a light between the massive tree trunks ahead of him.

Hopeful for a miracle, he willed himself to run even faster, though he was rapidly losing strength.

The light turned out to be shining from the windows of a small church.  But the sight that greeted him did not appear even remotely holy.  The windows were glowing blood-red, casting a crimson light across the rocky ground, as if the entire area were bathed in gore.  The building itself was badly in need of repair.  The paint was almost entirely peeled away, the shingles warped and buckled.  Even the steeple seemed to be askew, as if some great and unholy force had shaken the whole structure, nearly toppling it to the ground.

It was easily the last place on earth he would have chosen to stop for a quick Sunday school lesson, but the horde of flesh-crazed predators at his back made it difficult to be snobby.

He bounded up the steps onto the small, concrete landing in front of the door and yanked on the handle.

Naturally, it was tightly locked.

Glancing back, he saw the shadowy shapes stalking across the blood-tinted clearing, closing in on him.

He beat on the door.  He shouted, pleaded for someone to open it.  There had to be someone home.  Why else would there be lights?

The creatures were right behind him.

He darted right, toward the corner of the building, intending to run around behind the church, but another creature appeared in his path, blocking his way and bringing him to a halt before he had even reached the end of the landing.  They were everywhere.

He turned and pressed his back to the wall, his fists doubled, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the nearest of the creatures, resigned to stand his ground as long as possible, though he was sure that wouldn’t be long.  They were so big.  He certainly didn’t stand a chance.

Maybe he should have answered the phone when it rang.  It might have been his last chance to say goodbye to Karen.

As the first of the monsters reached out with its long, green hands, the church door slammed open.  A thunderous boom assaulted Eric’s ears and imploded the top half of the nearest monster’s head.

A second and third boom likewise disfigured two more of the creatures before the first had fully collapsed into a heap on the church steps.

Then, as he stood there with his hands pressed over his ringing ears, someone seized the sleeve of his tee shirt, hauled him bodily into the church and threw him to the floor as the door slammed shut behind him.

Sitting up, Eric turned and found himself staring into the barrel of a large-caliber rifle.

Chapter Seventeen

This was definitely not the most welcoming congregation he’d ever attended.

“Why the fuck are you here?” boomed the man staring down at him over the weapon.

“Is ‘I don’t want to be eaten by those things outside’ not an acceptable answer?” asked Eric as he gazed down the barrel.  “Because I may not be able to think of a better one with that in my face.”

The man glared at him and did not lower the rifle.  His eyes were dark and piercing, determined.  They were not the eyes of a man who appreciated his kind of humor.

“Okay…  Just back it off a little.”  Eric had never had a gun pointed at his face before.  He was surprised to find that he wasn’t pants-wetting terrified.  Instead, it was an impressively surreal feeling.  He was too distracted by the absurdity that he should find himself at the business end of a firearm to be too afraid.  As a result, he managed to meet this man’s piercing gaze with a fair amount of dignity, if not exactly action-hero bravado.  “Those things chased me here.  That’s all.  I was looking for the cathedral.”

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because the man pressed the barrel of the rifle against the side of his nose.  “This ain’t no fucking cathedral.”

Now Eric felt a little more of that carnal fear.  This guy clearly had a talent for this.  “I didn’t think it was.”  And this was perfectly true.  He hadn’t thought to make any connection between the cathedral and this church until now.  The only thought that crossed his mind when he first laid eyes on the little structure was that it didn’t look as warm and welcoming as he thought a church should look.