Halfway to the bungalow Jim’s lungs were burning and his legs shook. He stopped and bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He was more out of shape than he realised. Coming up behind him he heard the familiar rumble on either side of the path. There seemed to be two of them now. There was twice as much noise and the ground on either side of the path shook.

They rumbled ominously at his heels and he stumbled into a brisk trot. “Alright, alright,” Jim said. “I’m going.” Despite his fatigue and his mock bravado Jim was very, very afraid. He’d seen what those things could do and he knew they were playing with him.

He came to a crossroads in the path and his pursuers cut in front of him blocking two of the paths, including the most direct route to his bungalow. He knew where they were taking him. He gasped for breath and his head throbbed as he jogged past the second of the three affected graves. Like the first, the huge hillock had caved in and was now
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