Malcolm watched it move. It slid between them slow and careful, like a hand feeling for a seam. Its clicks were soft now, curious. It padded past Kyle and stopped a foot from Ruben, head tilting as if listening to something only it could hear.
He did not wait for it to finish. He raised the rifle and fired.
The bullet slammed into the creature's skull. The thing staggered, a wet crack filling the air, shrieking. For a beat Malcolm thought it was over.
But it still moved.
Then a dark slick spilled from the wound. It looked like oil and it steamed in the cold. The black fluid ran down its gray skin and pooled in the snow.
Ruben's voice cracked. "It didn't die?"
"It's bleeding," Kyle said, his tone high and shaking. "It's fucking bleeding and it's still moving."
The creature twitched. Its body jerked like something was pulling it from the inside.
Malcolm steadied his aim. "Stay on it. Hit the head."
