Junebug raised his weapon and squeezed off three rapid rounds at the creature. BANG. BANG. BANG.

The demon retracted its lip, showing razor-sharp teeth, and roared the terrible cry of one hundred shrieking voices from hell.

Junebug collapsed as though a sudden weight had fallen on him. Scrambling to his knees, mouth agape, he escaped into the darkness, stumbling down the hill, running for his life.

"Get your ass back here!" Rose shouted, struggling to her feet.

The primordial creature rose up on its hind legs, its tail lashing the ground, its narrow red eyes unblinking. 

Packer drew Lyla closer as the monster turned its scaly upper body toward Rose, exposing the row of spikes down its spine.

Jack flattened himself against the driver's door, his chest heaving, his eyes bulging in their sockets.

Lyla convulsed when she saw Keenan's corpse rising from its pine box through the fluttering patterns of the inferno. Surely, this must be some illusion of smoke and shadow, a product of her imagination. But it wasn't. 

"No, no, no." She trembled.

Packer watched in disbelief.

With his decayed hands on the edges of the coffin walls, Keenan slowly, ever so slowly drew himself up into a seated position, scraps of embalmed flesh crumbling away as he burned.

Rose took a tentative step toward the beast, a wicked glint in her eye. "They sent you here, didn't they?"

The demon extended its neck, glistening darkly, and cocked its monstrous head.

The corner of Rose's ragged lips peeled back in a grotesque smile to reveal her wired teeth. "You were sent to watch over this place, weren't you?"

The creature's nostrils flared.

She shifted her eye toward the truck where Lyla trembled in Packer's arms, Jack cringing behind the door of the cab.

With a crooked finger, Rose pointed to the trio and issued a stern command. "Kill them."

The creature bellowed a horrifying cry, its eyes burning brighter. It clawed the ground, salt and cinders flying.

Consumed by a sense of utter hopelessness, Lyla was a husk, on the verge of disintegration. She couldn't draw a single breath, her disbelieving eyes clouding.

But the demon didn't attack. With four great leaping strides, the creature propelled itself into the fiery grave.

Through the roaring flames, Lyla watched it seize Keenan's incinerating corpse, sinking its claws deep into his ankles. Keenan frantically kicked and screamed but he was powerless to stop the creature from dragging him out of his coffin, through the inferno, and below the surface through a widening chasm in the ground. 

WHOOOOOSH! The fire went out as they disappeared underground in a towering plume of smoke.

"Noooooo!" Rose yelled, her cries ringing in Lyla's ears. She hobbled forward, her brows arched in shock.

Lyla lost track of Rose in the expanding, rolling, thick cloud of smoke. Then, through a brief clearing, she watched the madwoman lurch headlong into the smoldering pit, apparently desperate to rescue her son. But it was too late.

Lyla pushed open the door of the cab and descended from her seat.

"No!" said Packer. 

Let's get out of here!" Jack said breathlessly.

She shoved his hand away then made a path through the murky cloud of smog to the smoldering grave where she last saw Rose thrashing about the salted embers. She followed the faint cries and whimpering.

"Lyla!" Packer called. "Lyla! No!"

As she drew closer, Lyla found Rose clawing at the dirt walls of what appeared to be a tunnel, perhaps a portal to Hell eager to swallow her. Rose hung on for dear life, strain crinkling her face, her legs dangling, the muscles in her trembling arms approaching their breaking point.

Lyla felt a tug at her sleeve.

"Let it go," said Jack, trying to draw her safely away from the dangerous one-eyed witch. "She's done."

She pulled free. "I need to make sure."

Rose ripped desperately at the soil as she sank lower into the pit, her mortal life slipping away like the dirt crumbling beneath her fingernails. She reached for the handle of a nearby shovel but Lyla was too quick, yanking it away.

Losing the battle to the pull of the dark underworld, Rose extended a hand and pleaded, "Help me... Please, help me."

Through clenched teeth, her eyes burning with the raging fire of contempt, Lyla growled, "Go to hell."

She raised the shovel overhead, then brought it down viciously, smashing the old krone with a savage whack. The gray-haired witch disappeared down the tunnel with a spray of blood and a blood-curdling scream.

Lyla stood, shovel in hand, at the liminal space between the plane of existence where sins are committed and the dark and fiery pit where payment for those transgressions are paid in full.

She felt a rumbling beneath her feet and watched in disbelief as the ground closed, burying the tunnel.

With a triumphant gasp, she uttered, "I win."

As the smoke began to dissipate, she saw Jack's wide blinking eyes, the only indications that the chain of ghastly supernatural events had not transformed him into stone.

"Our work is done here," she sighed. "Come on."

Lyla dragged the shovel back toward the truck, coughing, choking on particles of burnt gasoline, salt, and a charred corpse. She dropped the shovel then pulled herself up onto the sideboard beside the passenger seat.

"Packer," she said gently.

He turned to face her, grimacing.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked. 

"That thing," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "I think it was waiting."

"Waiting?" Lyla coughed.

"Waiting for someone to do... to do the salt and... and the fire."

"Breaking his connection to the living world," said Lyla, remembering Clarisse's words.

"Yeah... I think... I think so."

She watched Jack gather the pick, shovels, and gas can, then she stumbled down from the sideboard.

"What the hell was that thing?" Jack said. "You saw that, right?"

Packer nodded.

"Let's go," said Lyla. "Before it comes back."

"I'll put this stuff in my car," Jack said, looking in the direction of the smoldering grave. "You wanna follow me outta here?"

"Driving this truck?" Lyla replied, rubbing the smoke from her eyes.

"You can take my car." Jack offered. "I'll drive the truck."

That was not a viable option. She needed to be with Packer. "Nah. Guess I'll try to drive the truck," she said. "Slowly. Go very slowly."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

He stepped closer and said quietly, "What if he... doesn't make it back?"

"Okay, that was dark."

"I mean, look at him. He looks... bad."

"Don't even say that," she replied. 

"We need to get him home," Jack said. 

"Okay. Just gimme... a minute." She felt lightheaded, her lungs starved for oxygen. Her adrenal system had been severely overloaded and her body responded with a sudden onset of fatigue.

Jack was already jogging downhill to his car.

Exhausted, she slumped against the bent blade of the plow.

"Lyla!" Packer leaned out the window with a concerned expression.

Their eyes met.

"You okay?" His voice quivered.

She offered a gentle smile as she regained her composure. A calm set in, a reassuring feeling she recalled of resting peacefully in her mother's arms. As uncanny as it seemed, Lyla swore that she could smell the undeniable fragrance of fresh tomatoes. Looking up toward the heavenly night sky, a single tear rolled down her cheek.