Slick spun fast, which meant that the bat swooping down behind him crashed into his face. Slick's hands flew up, slapping the bat away. But now another bat landed on the back of his neck. He spun back the other way, slapping at it, but it clung to him, a small black ball of fur that stuck to his skin like a living boil.

Summer's legs were wobblier than ever, but she managed to move herself forward. Still screaming, she ran to Slick. He was turning in circles, flailing his arms, slapping at the bats which landed in twos and threes and fours.

Shouting, crying, Summer tried to pry the bats off Slick's body. The feel of the warm fur—the beating hearts—sickened her horribly. But she kept swatting and slapping at them.

Meanwhile, Russ had picked up a big stick and was swinging it like a baseball bat, bashing bats out of the air as they clustered around Slick. Whenever he connected with one of the bats, there was a strange metal clink, as if these weren't real bats at all, but only metal models.

Slick toppled backward into a tree. The tree held him up as another bat dive-bombed down into his face and stayed there, its thin wings covering the whole left side of his head. And now Summer waded forward through the dark cloud, punching out at the bats with her bare fists, ripping, clawing—

She felt something sharp sink into her hand. It was like getting a shot. She felt the first stab of pain at the puncture wound, then only a dull ache. But when she looked down, one of the small, furry creatures was attached to her hand. She smacked her hand hard against a tree, so hard she was sure she had broken bones, but at least she got rid of the bat. But now another one landed on her back, and another on her chest, and another. She felt the pulsing, furry bodies nestling against her neck. Felt the little heads of the awful creatures pushing through the gaps in her clothes, pushing with a terrible urgency until they reached bare skin. The fangs bit into her flesh. But still she tried to get the bats off Slick. He was screaming.

And then Russ grabbed her and was pulling her away.

"NOOOOO!!" she screamed.

But Russ didn't listen, pulling her harder, yanking, shoving, so that she tripped backward over a rock. But Russ held her up, dragging her. He had the stick in one hand, and he used it to clobber the bats that clung to her. It meant he hit her too, and she went down from the force of the blows. She heard that same strange metallic crunch as he struck each bat. Then he picked her up in his arms and for the second time she was being carried, like a bride over the threshold, as Russ ran through the forest.

She turned her head, still screaming. Looking back over Russ's shoulder, she saw Slick sinking slowly to his knees. His body was covered with bats. It was as if he were on fire, but instead of being engulfed with flames he was being consumed by a black cloud.

And more bats were landing every second.

Summer kept shouting, kept clawing at Russ's arms, but it was as if his skin were made of steel. He kept running.

Slick quickly receded, disappearing into darkness.

   Friday the 13th: Road Trip, chapter 22