A Night at Wildwood
Out of the trees, two figures barreled toward him — Willy leading the charge, his mouth twisted into a manic grin, with Sue trailing behind, a look of pure desperation on her face.
Ben threw himself at the fence. He scrambled up the rusted iron bars, his fingers slipping on the cold metal.
Halfway up, a hand grabbed his ankle — Willy.
“Gotcha, boy,” Willy hissed, yanking him downward.
Ben kicked wildly, fighting to stay on the fence, but the madman’s grip was like iron.
“Let go, you psycho!” Ben shouted.
Willy only laughed harder — a bone-chilling, broken sound — and bit down on Ben’s leg.
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