Lynn's hands were trembling violently as she pulled Vin along.

Vin's knees buckled with each step he took.

His skin was even more washed, and black blood drooled down his mouth. He couldn't even breathe without sharp pain.

"Lynn—"

"Don't talk," she whispered sharply. "Just breathe."

He was too exhausted to get much out. He just told her, "Go…"

"Not without you," she whispered back.

The waves rippled.

The monster had finished its appetizer.

Lynn's head snapped around, panic plastered on her face.

She looked around the swamp for something to help and found nothing.

Not even another tall tree to climb.

She bit her quivering lip and let go of Vin's hand.

Then, she said with an unconfident stutter, "I-I'm going to distract it. You hide."

"What—? No." He reached back in for her palm, but his fingers had no strength.

"You can't run," she whispered, voice cracking. "But I can. I can buy us time."

Her glasses fogged with her frantic breaths. She was terrified—but willing.

Those final words broke him more than the poison.

She moved fast. Too fast for Vin to stop her. She splashed in another direction, yelling to draw the monster's attention.

Vin tried shouting louder to become the target, but he was too sick. What little sound he managed only caused him to cough up more blood.

He didn't understand why this was happening.

If someone had to be a decoy, it should be him. He already had one foot in the grave.

The monster had better hearing than sight. It turned toward Lynn almost immediately and pursued—slick body covering the muddy ground with ease.

Even near death, Vin's mind was active.

More than it had ever been.

He had to save her no matter what.

He staggered the Jeep.

His voice was gone, but the horn was loud enough.

He didn't hesitate.

Vin dragged himself into the vehicle, collapsed across the seat, and slammed his hand into the wheel.

The sharp horn BOOMED across the swamp.

The monster whipped toward the sound with instantaneous fury.

Vin chuckled softly.

He could imagine the look of shock on Lynn's face right now. 'Serves you right...'

A moment later, the beast rammed the Jeep, rocking the vehicle violently. It withdrew, slammed again, then again, each hit denting the metal more.

He pushed himself upright—barely—and noticed the glove department had unhatched with the last hit.

A white box was tucked inside with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Vin grabbed the box, half-thinking it was pointless.

It was a first-aid kit that belonged to the man's family—a picture of a happy household pasted on the front.

A child somewhere on Earth would grow up never knowing why their father never came home...

Lynn wouldn't be the next victim.

Vin had to kill it.

An idea sparked.

Not bravery.

Not strategy.

Just the last wild thought of a dying boy.

Vin dumped the med kit open. Bandages. Gauze. Bottle of rubbing alcohol. The basics.

Enough.

He tied bandages together with sloppy, shaking knots, forming a rope, and then drenched it with alcohol.

The slug was going wild on the driver's side, so he lugged his numbing body into the back seat and climbed out the door.

He shoved one end of the wet bandages into the Jeep's fuel port and left the other hanging out.

A fuse.

The monster slammed into the Jeep once more, then noticed him and snarled.

Vin raised his hand and flicked it off.

Then he flicked the lighter.

Once.

Twice.

The flame caught.

The soaked cloth ignited instantly—a line of hungry fire crawling toward the tank.

"VIN!" he heard Lynn desperately yell from close by.

He didn't look.

The monster lunged at him—

He felt blessed to have lost most of his senses.

The violent crunch on his upper body didn't hurt as much.

Then—

A startling WOOSH sounded as the flame hit the tank.

Not a Hollywood explosion—but a violent, scorching burst of fire that engulfed Vin's side and the monster's head.

He felt heat for a while.

Soon, nothing at all.

The monster let go of him—its body burning in the dead of night like a torch.

Lynn tackled Vin into the water, shoving his burning clothes under to put out the flames. She was choking, sobbing, dragging him by the torso as the monster flailed behind them.

It was burning—but still alive—rolling in the water, trying to smother the fire.

Lynn pulled him a safe distance away and then staggered to her feet.

She grabbed the remaining bottle of alcohol from the vehicle and screamed in raw fury as she unloaded it all onto the monster.

Alcohol met flame.

A second blaze roared to life.

The swamp lit up orange as the creature writhed, thrashing, slamming itself into roots and logs. Its shrieks echoed for hundreds of paces.

Then slowed.

Then sagged.

Then stopped.

Silence.

Lynn pulled Vin's body up, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

She took his pulse.

Nothing.