B27C8 - Walls

Enraged, I put my shoulder against the backdoor frame and pushed, this time with all I had. Bricks slid. Mortar crumbled. I pushed harder. The bricks buckled and the entire wall collapsed.

Bricks thudded down around me, on me, but I hardly felt them.

(...)

<Cassie? Where are you?> I called desperately, bashing through a wall and searching the next room. The floor was lined with stained mattresses and reeked of stale pee and barf.

(...)

<Marco!> I shouted, ramming through another wall.

(...)

<Where’s the creep with the gun?> I said, swinging my head and pulverizing the remains of a door frame.

(...)

I was mad. And I was big.

Nothing could stop me.

Wood, plaster, and paneling fell before me like confetti.

I was gutting the house.

I was on a rampage.

I headed for the rooms at the front.

Walls shook.

The rotted, wooden floor bowed, cracked, and gave way.

CRRREEEAAAKKK!

I stumbled, my legs dropping into the crawl space beneath the house. Four feet deep. Big deal. I got up and plowed through the sharp, splintered wood like a kid pushing through the surf at the beach.

Rusty nails and wood shards gouged my skin.

Pinpricks of pain. They didn't matter. I dug the floor up with my tusks.

The guy with the gun. I wanted him and I would have him.