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  The woman held a blanket, and when no answer was given, she approached cautiously. “Ma’ am? It’s all right, we’re not going to hurt you.”

  You can’t hurt me.

  “It’s all right,” the woman told her again. “Do you understand? It’s all right, we’re here to help you.”

  She remained still. Nude and battered and covered in blood and soot, she no longer had any shame or concern for such things. This was her island. She’d killed for it. Many had died for it.

  “Are you alone?” the woman asked. “Is there anyone else here with you?”

  You wouldn’t understand even if I told you. There are many here. In the trees…in the sand and rock…in the fire…in the lone building that still stands deep in the jungle.

  “Are you alone?” the woman pressed.

  They’re all around us…

  “Are you…Are you the only one left?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  Yes. But I’m not going to.

  “It’s okay,” the woman said, “that doesn’t matter now. We’re going to get you home. Do you understand? It’s over, we’ve found you, it’s all over. We’re going to get you home.”

  I am home…

  “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” the woman asked. “I want you to come with us now, all right? We’re going to take you home.”

  The woman stepped closer and carefully wrapped the blanket around her, then gently guided her toward the others and the waiting boat.

  She easily could’ve killed each one of them had she wanted to. These fools, these children, they’d never know what hit them.

  But rather than attack, she went with them instead. Why, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Perhaps somewhere deep inside her there still existed a shred of the thoughtful and gentle woman who would’ve collapsed and cried at such a miraculous rescue. Perhaps one day she’d even be able to conjure that person again and bring her back to life. Like a corpse long cold from the grave.

  For now, there was only fire…death…suffering.

  And nightmares. Torturous nightmares.

  As they led her into the ocean and onto the small boat, she looked back one last time at the inferno behind her, and the remnants of this awful place that had both cost and given her so much.

  Her eyes burned fire-red.

  Or perhaps they were just reflecting the endless flames.

  There was really no way to know for sure.

  Not yet.

  THE END

  About The Author

  Greg F. Gifune is a best-selling, internationally-published author of several acclaimed novels, novellas and two short story collections. Called, “The best writer of horror and supernatural thrillers at work today” by New York Times best-selling author Christopher Rice, “One of the best writers of his generation” by both The Roswell Literary Review and author Brian Keene, and “Among the finest dark suspense writers of our time” by legendary best-selling author Ed Gorman, Greg’s work has been published all over the world, translated into several languages, received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Kirkus and others, is consistently praised by readers and critics alike, and has garnered attention from Hollywood. His novel THE BLEEDING SEASON, originally published in 2003, has been hailed as a classic in the genre and is considered to be one of the best horror/thriller novels of the decade. In 2016 his short stories HOAX and PLANT LIFE will be adapted to film. Also an editor with years of experience in the field in a variety of positions, Greg is presently on hiatus from his position as Senior Editor at DarkFuse, and at work on several projects. He resides in Massachusetts with his wife Carol, a bevy of cats and two dogs, Dozer and Bella. He can be reached online at [email protected] or on Facebook and Twitter.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Author Thanks

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  AFTER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AFTER

  About The Author