If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.
“Do you think they’ll understand everything that happened tonight?” She asks, looking up from her glass.
“I don’t fucking understand, and I was there, so no, I don’t,” he says as he empties the contents of his glass into his mouth.
“Then what’ll we tell them?” She asks.
“Lie? After all we’ve been through, after Debbie’s death, you wan’t to lie?”
“What else can we do? We tell the truth and they’ll try to pin Debbie’s death on us, and, we’ve got no proof, nothing, we’d be setting ourselves up for failure, or worse, setting ourselves up for the fall!” He says as he fills his glass once again, and quickly empties it.
“So, let’s get proof, let’s find something they’ll believe, lets at least try!”
“How? It gone, everything, either, up there,” he says, shoving his empty glass toward the roof, “or, its dust. Mary, honey, I love you, I know how much this hurts, but we’ve got nothing, we have to lie, it’s the only choice we’ve got.”
She feels the tears well up in her eyes, and his face softens, as he rushes from his seat and cradles her in his arms.
“Please, honey, don’t, we can’t, we just can’t, if there was a way, if there was something, anythi….” His words coke to a stop, as his hold weakens, she looks up at his face, as he stares off blankly.
“S-S-Sam?” She says softly.
Slowly, he looks down at her, his eyes glazed over, “D-D-Debbie’s body, w-w-where is it?”
“Down there, in the dust, with the rest of the, but why? Why does it matter anymore, she’s gone.”
He grabs Mary by the shoulders tightly and stares into her eyes, now filled with a burning, intense passion. “Because those things never stopped, not until we used fire, not until we roasted the fuckers, if it infected Clive, what i….” He doesn’t get to finish as the door to the small cabin crashes to the ground, and the twisted, demented form of the woman, that once was known as Debbie stands before them, and snarls.