He moved on all fours. Splayed fingers reached out to land on the tiles as he wove his body through the exit. His lips, sewn closed, created a hard line across his face. The dead, white eyes never blinked but fixed on her as he writhed closer.

Margot began backing up. Terror pushed her to go faster, but the roof was precarious, and the drop was high. She pulled her foot out of the gutter. Her legs slid over the edge, dangling. She tried to lower herself farther, so she would be hanging by only her hands and the drop wouldn’t be so severe, but when she tried to move, her grip slipped.

She plunged over the edge, the gutter skimming her jaw painfully. She thrashed, arms reaching, legs kicking. One ankle hit the porch railing. She was tipped over, at a bad angle, and put her arms out to shield her head.

A terrible crunching sound came as she hit the ground. She felt the noise as much as heard it; it reverberated through her left arm, followed by a wave of pain that swamped her whole body. Her mouth opened to scream, but she had no more breath left.

Her vision flickered to black, then to red, then to black again. Long weeds scraped across her arms and face. Cold wind fanned over her.

She wanted to lie there, to let oblivion take her, but her mind was running on automatic, screaming at a body that wouldn’t respond: He’s coming, move, move, move!

Above, a roof tile cracked as unnatural weight was put on it.

Margot tried to roll onto her side. The pain in her arm was like a fire licking at the insides of her bones. A groan fell from her. She pulled the arm close, tears burning her face, and clutched it against her chest with her good hand as she struggled to her knees.

Don’t give up now. Keep moving. You just have to keep moving.

The gutter rattled as dead hands found it.

Margot got one foot under herself, then the other. She staggered. Her ankle refused to take any weight. She managed three steps, then collapsed back to her knees, the jarring impact sending flames through her body.

Another sound reached her. Bells, ringing. A cacophony of them, rising out of the house. A funeral chorus.

She squinted blurred eyes open. Moonlight battled the shadows that spread across the field. The clumping trees around the property were alive with moving limbs. Long hair. Blind eyes. Dirt embedded beneath their overgrown fingernails. They crawled out of hiding and slowly, painfully, dragged themselves across the fence and its alarm wires.

The dead man dropped from the roof. She felt reverberations run through the ground as he hit it.