In Laymon's Terms

John tried to fend them off, flailing his fists and kicking, but they were everywhere at once, biting and tearing into his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere. Then one of the coyotes got past his weakening arms and struck a killing bite, sinking its teeth deep into his throat, turning his cries of pain into burbling sobs. It held on to him tightly, crushing his larynx. His body convulsed, his back arched, then the tension went out of him and he collapsed, limp.

But the pack wasn’t done with him yet. As he lay there, limbs at impossible angles, they tore into him with relish, jerking the body around, tearing flesh from bone, pulling limbs apart, ripping strings of intestines from his abdomen. They weren’t just killing him; they were feeding.

Sonia’s screams faded into anguished sobs that were renewed with each strip of bloody flesh the monsters tore from her son’s body. She couldn’t avert her eyes. She was paralyzed, watching as the pack decimated her first child.

As most of the pack made a meal of John, one of them stepped back, raised its head to the moon, and began to howl. It was a long, wailing, victorious sound that was slowly taken up by each member of the pack until they all echoed the ominous cry.

Will wedged himself so tightly against the trunk and branches of the Pinion Pine that the rough bark dug into his bare legs and arms, drawing blood. He barely even noticed his own cuts and scratches. John was dead, but the coyotes still weren’t done with him. Will had his eyes closed so tight his face cramped up, but that didn’t hold back his tears.

He hadn’t been able to look away while those monsters were killing his brother, but he couldn’t bear to watch what they did with him afterwards. So he’d refused to look, climbed as high up as the thin branches would allow—only a dozen feet or so—and kept his eyes shut. But that couldn’t block out the sound of bones and cartilage breaking, or flesh being torn from ligaments. And worse than that was the putrid stench.

Will thought the rancid odor would drive him insane. He’d never smelled anything so horrible; it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

After a while, the sounds of the monsters feeding slowed, then stopped, but Will could still hear them scuffing around at the base of the tree. Against his better judgment, he slowly opened his eyes to see what they were doing. What he saw at the base of the tree made him cringe. There was nothing left of John—nothing recognizable. Only a chaotic tangle of bones and shredded clothing. The light was still bright enough for him to make out the dark red blood that drenched the ground and tree trunk. Among the gore, three of the killers sat at the base of the tree, staring up at Will perched among the branches. They weren’t finished. They were still hungry.

Several more of the coyotes sat near the van, about a dozen yards away, and stared at the closed doors and windows. The rest of the pack wandered around in a circuit between the van and the tree, occasionally nosing through the remains of their kill, searching for some tender morsel that had been missed.

Will closed his eyes again and lowered his head until it rested against a tree branch. He started crying, quiet moans at first, but they soon escalated to loud wracking sobs that shook the whole fragile tree. “Go away!” he screamed at them. “Go away! Please go away and leave us alone, leave us alone...” His screams faded to a pleading wail, this time not for John, but for himself, for his mother and Sally.

Sonia was a babbling wreck. She and Sally had screamed and cried and hugged each other as the coyotes devoured John. They’d both felt compelled to watch while he was fighting them, but Sally had quickly turned away in revulsion as the pack fed. Sonia couldn’t make herself stop watching, though. They tried to comfort each other, but there was no solace to be found. They were stranded here, surrounded by vicious killers and there was nothing they could do to help themselves. Sonia remembered Billy still trapped up in the tree and she forced her grief away for moments at a time to call out to him, to try to soothe him as much as she could.

“What’re we gonna do?” Sally asked her.

“I don’t know, sweetie, but your father will be back soon. He’ll make it okay.”

“What if he’s not? What if they got him too? What if no one even knows we’re here?” Sally was getting hysterical.

“Stop that now, everything will be okay. I know it,” she said, feeling none of the assurance she claimed. She reached up and held Sally’s face with both hands, looking straight into her eyes. “Listen to me, we’re going to get out of this, you hear me?”

Sally broke down in tears again and Sonia hugged her daughter to her, rocking her steadily, smoothing her hair with one hand and whispering over and over, “Shhhhh, it’s okay, we’ll be fine, it’s alright.”