CHAPTER 22: NO TURNING BACK.

Jamey knelt on the blood-soaked ground, trembling. His body was torn, slick with sweat and gore. Against all odds, he was still breathing—ragged, shallow, impossible. Was it sheer will? The remnants of the hard drugs in his system? Or was it that Dead Amy wanted him alive—just a little longer?

She crept forward across the cracked, grimy tiles. Not a sound came from her blood-crusted feet. Her face was obscured beneath a curtain of oily, tangled hair, matted with flesh and filth. She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t rush.