Epilogue

Epilogue 0.04

     "We're almost there," Comma shouts over the howling wind. "By my calculations, it'll be another five minutes, tops."

     "Five more minutes and my toes are going to fall off," says Crawford. "Among other things."

     We've wandered smack into the middle of a blizzard. The snow-stuff circles rapidly in the air, like a cyclone. I take a sip from the thermos, and the now slightly acidic river-water burns its way down my throat. I pass it to Gail, who makes sure Eloise has her fill before drinking any herself.

     The storm only intensifies as we push onward. As if the snow-stuff sublimating against and drying out our skin weren't enough, now there are icicle shards flying left and right, slicing up our cheeks and our clothing. I almost take one in the eye—wouldn't that just be lovely?

     Comma throws her head back and laughs. "Is that the best you can do?" She twirls her chakram, slicing up the shards one by one. Her movements are a blur. "C'mon guys—we're almost there!"

     I will myself to take a few more steps forward. The tugging starts; I'm caught in the rip's magnetic field. "It's close," I shout. "I can feel it!"

     "I can't believe it," says Gail, wiping the wet from her eyes. "We've finally made—"

     She turns around, soaked head to toe in blood.

     "Gail!" Topher rushes to her side.

     Gail stares at him, shivering. "It's... it's not... mine."

     Something comes hurtling towards us through the flurry of white. The projectile hits me in the gut and then lands at my feet. Eloise screams. Gail keels over and wretches. I glance down at the object lying at my feet.

     It's a severed human head—a female's.

     Topher drops to his knees, the ice-shards slicing his nostrils. "Trisha..."

     "Show yourself, you bastard!" Crawford shouts, flailing his arms about. "I'm not afraid of you! Bring it on! I'll show y—"

     We're assaulted by a barrage of entrails. A lung flops onto Topher's shoulder. A pancreas smacks against Gail's eye. A stomach splatters against the side of Crawford's face, soaking it in stomach acid. He screams and hits the ground, burying his face in the snow-stuff. An unravelled intestine wraps itself around Comma's neck, choking her.

     The next wave of dismembered body parts haven't held up as well—they explode upon impact, drenching us in human rot.

     "We have to go back!" It's Eloise, raising her voice above the clamour. Pleading with us. Tears stream down her frost-bitten cheeks. She's seen this before: the merciless slaughter of her comrades by the beast.

     "I can feel it!" The rip beckons to me. I reach out for it, preparing to peel through...

     And then a gust of wind sends me flying backwards. The fall knocks the wind out of me. I try to get back up, but I've lost all feeling in my extremities. When I look at my hands, they're completely frozen. I mean rock solid, all the way through.

     It's over.

     "Get the hell up." Comma seizes me by the collar and forces me to my feet. She takes my frozen hand in hers. "You can channel your powers through me. Just concentrate. I can't feel the rip unless you do."

     I close my eyes and focus on the rip. I zero in on its exact location and then psychically convey that location to Comma. To my surprise, it works. Comma reaches for the rip...