CUT: Part 9
Seb’s lungs burned like fire as he crashed through the underbrush, branches whipping his face and snagging his clothing. He burst onto the trail leading to Milt’s property, legs pumping desperately toward the wide lawn flanking the oversized garage. Halfway across the grass, he spotted two figures moving away down the driveway—a flashlight beam bobbing ahead of them, heading toward the road. Closer to the garage, another silhouette jogged toward the rear door. “Channing!” Seb shouted, voice raw and cracking. The figure stopped dead, turning sharply. Channing’s eyes widened in the spill of light from the garage. “Seb?” Seb stumbled up to him, chest heaving, hands on his knees for a second before straightening. Up close, he knew he looked like hell: jeans spattered with dirt, black hoodie damp with sweat, dark hair plastered to his forehead. His skin had a ghostly pallor under moonlight. “Jesus, Seb—what the hell happened to you?” Channing’s voice pitched with shock and worry. He reached...