The corpse shuddered under the hail of gunfire but seemed otherwise unaffected by the bullets. Bits of flesh flew away and within seconds it was more shredded than intact. But then it turned to confront the blonde. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as her boyfriend joined the others in scrambling madly away from the thing—perhaps she’d expected him to show some machismo by stepping in front of her to protect her—and then she snarled angrily. She got one good slash at the monstrosity with her implanted blades, tearing open its limp face and releasing a misty spray of blood. But this gutsy move put her in our line of fire. Forced to stop shooting, the other gangers could only gape as the spirit clutched her to its chest. For a second or two, the blonde disappeared from view. We still heard her screaming, though—a long, desperate wail that quickly faded into silence. Then her body suddenly became visible again as she thudded to the floor, dead. Her face was as bleached as her hair; it looked as though her body had been drained of its blood.