The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) Read Online Free PDF Page B

The smell of burnt rubber hung in the air. The engine hissed
and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
     
    The airbags began to deflate. “Emily, are you
okay?” It was Eric. Emily turned her head. A sharp pain tore
through her neck and shoulders as she did.
     
    “Yes, I'm all right,” she answered.
     
    Eric looked dazed. He rubbed the back of his
skull with his palm. “Ow,” he said. “Some fuckin' Christmas,
huh?”
     
    They both looked at Tim, who was in the
driver's seat, staring blankly through a jagged hole in the
windshield. His air bag hung, deflated, in his lap. His
white-knuckled fingers gripped the steering wheel, still squeezing
it tight. His hands trembled with fear. A shard of glass between
his knuckles formed a thin trail of blood. It drizzled down his
hand onto his pants.
     
    The car was parked horizontally across the
right shoulder lane, facing the woods. Moments before impact, Tim
had turned the steering wheel, but whatever they hit—some kind of
animal—it was solid enough to smash the front left side of the hood
and warp the metal on the entire driver's side. Tim stared into the
dark forest, motionless.
     
    “Tim?” Emily put her hand on his forearm.
“Tim? Are you okay?”
     
    “What the hell was that thing?” Tim's voice
was low, the words muttered, as if talking to himself. He turned to
Emily, eyes wide.
     
    Emily had seen an animal, but she didn't know
what kind. The fur was soft and white like a polar bear, but it
walked on two feet like an ape. The hair around its face was long,
blowing in the wind. And its eyes. She could picture them, glowing
in the headlights. Shining an eerie red.
     
    Tim tried his door. It wouldn't open. The
metal frame was bent inward near the latch. Tim leaned his shoulder
into it, pushing until the door creaked open in a chorus of
protesting metal parts. He stumbled from the car, disappearing
around the side.
     
    Emily's door opened without a fight, and she
followed him into the frosty night. A gust of wind stole her
breath, so cold it stung her cheeks. It carried her breath away in
white, cloudy streams as she made her way around the car.
     
    Tim stood over the animal... the beast. It
wasn't much taller than a man, but its body was packed with muscle
from head to toe. Huge biceps and thighs bulged from under its
thick, white fur. Its wide nostrils sloped into a snout that
reminded Emily of a gorilla. Each finger ended in a jagged, yellow
claw, and a bushy tail poked out from underneath its lifeless
body.
     
    Emily cringed as she drew closer. Broken
bones tore through its skin, jutting from the rib cage, arm, and
legs at odd angles. A pool of blood gathered in the snow beneath
the beast, leaking from the deep, gory wounds that lay open
throughout its matted fur. Muscle tissue and veins dangled from the
wounds, dripping blood. Snow melted as it hit the creature's
still-warm flesh, adding to the sloppy mess.
     
    The colorless snow was streaked with bright
red. Moonlight glistened on the beast's pointed teeth as its lips
drooped lifelessly away from its mouth. Death had caused its
muscles to relax, but Emily could swear it died with a snarl on its
face. Its eyes were beginning to frost over, staring up at the
cosmos with an empty gaze. Emily gulped. “What is it?”
     
    Tim shook his head. “I don't know.” He knelt
in the snow and examined the corpse, inching closer. When he
realized his knees were dangerously close to the congealing pool of
blood, he made a disgusted face and stood up, dusting clumps of
snow from his knees.
     
    “The car is fucked,” he said, gesturing to
the bent up Jeep Cherokee. “We'll be lucky if it starts.”
     
    “Some vacation, huh?” Emily smiled at him,
trying to lighten the mood.
     
    Tim stared at her. An inner darkness swirled
in his silver-blue eyes. The tension in the air was almost
palpable, as if Emily could reach out and grab a piece of it and
chuck it like a snowball. “I planned this trip for you,”