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Matty did not actually feel himself go through the air. It was only some vague time later that he put the pieces together. One moment he was on the ground, his breath coming wet and raspy from a half-crushed windpipe; the next, he was on top of Bobby, with his teeth sunk into the wedge of his tormentor's chin. A deep-bellied growl filled his ears. He was only half-aware that the sound rose from his own throat. All he could process was the urge to tear the flesh of Bobby Gorawlski's face. |
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Blows rained down on the sides of his head as Bobby tried to get away. But by now Matty was lost in that thick red fog. He heard Bobby scream. It came with such jagged-edged violence, for an instant Matty froze, his teeth clamped on Bobby's chin bone, warm blood filling his mouth. |
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Voices and bodies swirled around him. Hands pulled at his shirt, his arms, his head. Fingers dug into his throat. |
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Behind him he saw the woodsthe cool tangle of night. |
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He looked at the faces, then tore himself free of their grip and was off to the trees, his weird howl stopping the others in their tracks. |
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Had he looked back, he would have seen a frieze of faces, all pale with horror. All but one, that isa tall, thin man in black, smiling as though at a kindred spirit. |
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