There's an arm hooking around his, and he can't see, can't think for the hammering in his skull, the high, bright tone drilling at his ears. There's the shambling and groaning, the thicket of graying limbs shifting ever closer, but then there's someone else -
He's going to die, it occurs to him dazedly. He's going to die, and it'll be to the horribly ironic sounds of Michael Jackson howling about evil things lurking in the dark. He's coughing raggedly, groping blinding at Jay for support. Every muscle shrieks in protest, his jeans and skin abraded with the dark streaks of his own stupid, stupid plan.
There's someone else, someone besides his partner in idiocy. And despite the way he's moving dazed, only barely able to duck out of the way of lurching, snapping jaws, he manages a disbelieving stare in Jay's direction.
"It's a fucking kid." This. This was Jay's master plan. "You brought a fucking kid."
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He's going to die, it occurs to him dazedly. He's going to die, and it'll be to the horribly ironic sounds of Michael Jackson howling about evil things lurking in the dark. He's coughing raggedly, groping blinding at Jay for support. Every muscle shrieks in protest, his jeans and skin abraded with the dark streaks of his own stupid, stupid plan.
There's someone else, someone besides his partner in idiocy. And despite the way he's moving dazed, only barely able to duck out of the way of lurching, snapping jaws, he manages a disbelieving stare in Jay's direction.
"It's a fucking kid." This. This was Jay's master plan. "You brought a fucking kid."