And then she saw it. A loose board in the wall behind the creature. Beyond it, a glint of metal. An old fuel oil tank.
Then the engine coughed. Sputtered. Died. Jeepers Creepers
As Riley peeled out, she looked in the rearview mirror. The church was a pillar of fire against the night. And standing on the roof, silhouetted against the flames, was the creature. It was burning. But it was not dead. It was watching them go. And it was smiling. And then she saw it
“Gonna get you, too…”
The voice was a low, ragtime warble, tinny like an old phonograph. It drifted from the drainage ditch ahead. Riley slowed. A rusted culvert pipe jutted from the bank, and something was blocking it. Not something. Someone. An old fuel oil tank