Her face was distorted, the skin peeling loose from her cheeks to reveal rot beneath. Her eyelids bulged outward from her eyes and the lower eyelid squirmed. Even as Matt watched, a few maggots wriggled out and fell to land on Janey’s cheek. His stomach twisted, and the evil that radiated from her body was like a screech against the edge of his mind. “Like hell,” he gasped. Lifted the ax. His dead wife’s eyes widened in shock. She swung the door shut, slamming it right into the blow of Matt’s ax. The wood cracked and splintered viciously. With a shout, Matt shoved his boot against the door, rattling it, and pulled his ax free. Swung it again, again, chopping the door apart. His blood loud in his ears. That wasn’t his wife. Couldn’t be. Something was using her face, like a mask. Grief and rage choked his throat, and he swung the ax furiously. Adette shouted something at him, but he ignored her. In moments, he had his hand through the gap he’d torn in the door, and he was fumbling for the deadbolt.
