Perhaps because there was no wind, the damp leaves and grass in the island's forest lay still as death as if time itself had frozen.
Where Victor had buried the body, the soft earth slowly bulged upward before sinking back down.
After a moment of eerie quiet, it happened again. The ground seemed to pulse, heaving and sinking like a heart beating rapidly, the rhythm growing more violent. Finally, after a last, high swell, the mound didn't retract but burst outward. A crack appeared, and a dark shape slowly emerged.
It was a hand—a gaunt, bony right hand, smeared with flesh and blood, radiating malice.
Unaware of the disturbance behind him, Victor led Amanda to the beach. Finding a suitable spot, he crouched down.
"You're going to wash it here?" Amanda asked, her smile sweet and teasing
