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THE CHOSEN Part Three: A STUDY GUIDE TO THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX Chapter 28

The gunfire began as they reached the fence. A younger male had raced ahead and became the first to attempt to scale the chain-link. The first and the last, as he screamed, jerking in spasms, his fingers locked in a death grip in the wire as several thousand volts passed through his body. Flesh and blood served as a perfect conductor and flames erupted around his fingers, the force of his thrashing dislocated both shoulders, and his heart exploded to leave him dangling like a dead bird from a power line, cooking from the inside out.

Deb moaned in despair as another of the escapees dropped, a bullet taking the top off his skull. Gale hesitated, unsure what to do next, where to turn. Several guards were running towards them, firing sporadic bursts into the crowding prisoners.

“No!” Gale shrieked, raising the pistol she still carried.

A jeep careened around one of the buildings. The driver struggled with a naked man, one of the prisoners who had grabbed Gale’s ankles and kissed her feet when she had freed him. Now that feeble, sobbing old man had become a beast, hanging onto the jeep even as his legs were broken and mangled as he was dragged, his teeth clamped on the throat of the driver. The last act of retribution from a dying war chief.

The jeep sped out of control, plowing through the small squadron of guards, sending them flying, spines shattered, or grinding them beneath the tires into the mud. It veered left, passing a few feet from where Gale stood, and tore through the fence in an explosion of sparks, dragging the chain link with it as it raced away, the driver’s foot stomping the accelerator. Deb grabbed Gale’s arm, snapping her out of the stupor that had seized her. Then she was leading her behind several of the others who were already running through the opening in the fence. Gale allowed herself one glance back at the compound. There looked to be no one left capable of following them, at least not at the moment, and the shooting had ceased. With a triumphant exclamation, she quickened her pace, and then the cool shadows of the jungle received them.

By TheCheezman

WAYNE MILLER is the owner and creative director of EVIL CHEEZ PRODUCTIONS, specializing in theatrical performances and haunted attractions. He has written, produced, and directed (and occasionally acted in) over two dozen plays, most of them in the Horror and True Crime genres. He obtained a doctorate in Occult Studies from Miskatonic University and is an active paranormal investigator. Is frequently told he resembles Anton Lavey. And Ming the Merciless.

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