The rain helped to extinguish the flames that were licking at the Swamp Thing's body. Thick oily smoked rolled off his verdant hide as he slowly regained his footing, staring at Aragon and his followers.

"I see you've rejoined us from the land of the dead," said Aragon. "You're just in time to see the festivities."

Swamp Thing watched as Aragon turned back to the mob who only moments before had slit the throats of their own children.

"Illumination," said Aragon, "watch as the damned souls climb the Tree of Blood. They will arise from the bowels of Hell to the gates of Heaven. And there they will bring down the holiest of the holy. They will rebuild Heaven for our own good; a place where we can rule free."

Grace, watching the mob as they erupted into cheers, left Aragon's side. Quickly, she ran to where the Swamp Thing was slowly healing himself.

"Please," she asked him, "help me. Stop what I've made possible."

Swamp Thing reached out with a hand and touched her cheek. A wry smile cascaded across his face.

"I'll try my best," he replied.

He shambled up the mount towards Aragon, who had his back to him. It wasn't until the crowd began to roar that Aragon turned around to find himself face-to-face with the Swamp Thing.

"I think we've had enough of this," the Swamp Thing told him, and grabbed Aragon by the arms, twisting them up his back.

"You won't get away with this, muck monster," said Aragon. "I'll make sure you burn in Hell."

Swamp Thing was about to respond when, suddenly, the earth began to rumble. Mob members were tossed about, thrown down into the muddy streets. And Aragon was pushed away as Swamp Thing steadied himself for the next obstacle to overcome.

From beneath the ground, a large hole erupted open. For a moment, nothing moved. And then a large creature, standing 30' tall, emerged. It bore red eyes, which immediately locked with the murky green glare of Swamp Thing, and was comprised entirely of rock.

"What next?" mumbled Swamp Thing.

As if to answer, the Earth Thing opened its maw. From inside it, a wave of boiling magma shot forth. It pooled itself around Swamp Thing's legs. And as the lava cooled off, it had burned away both of his limbs.

Crawling away from the Earth monster, the Swamp Thing knew he wouldn't have time to escape. He also knew that he probably wouldn't have time to form a plan of retaliation until he was nearly dead.

And by then it would probably be too late.

The Earth Thing stepped out and crushed a rocky foot onto the Swamp Thing's back. His fertile skin erupted. Goo the color of strained-pea baby food and green snot exploded outward.

Then it reached out and grabbed Swamp Thing's head. With a mighty pull, the Earth Thing ripped it clean from Swamp Thing's shoulders. Like a ball, it sent it bouncing back down the mount.

The Earth Thing turned. It let loose with a roar that sent shivers down Aragon's back.

At the bottom of the mount, the Swamp Thing's head came to a halt in a mud puddle. And its vacant eyes stared up towards the heavens that the damned souls were intent on tearing down.

Leslie was so scared that she thought she was going to piss her pants.

"What are you afraid of?" asked Steve. "It's only a movie."

"I know," replied Leslie. "But it's still scary."

Steve nodded. It was okay with him that she was scared. It just meant that he got to hold her that much closer.

"I'm hungry," she told him. "Go and get me something to eat."

"Why me?" he said. "And besides, why would you want me to leave you alone? I thought you were scared?"

"I'm more hungry than scared," said Leslie. She winked at him. "If you're nice to me," she told him, "I might be nice to you."

"You don't play fair," said Steve, pulling open the van door. "What do you want?"

"Just some popcorn," replied Leslie.

"Okay," he said. "Be back in a few minutes."

Leslie watched him until he disappeared behind a line of cars.

Then she turned back to the movie. On the drive-in screen, a werewolf was running after a girl. Steve had brought her to see a double-bill of THE HOWLING and AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON.

There had been a lot of talk around town about the murderer that had killed that little kid and truck driver. Most people said it was the swamp monster that supposedly haunted the Houma bayou, but others said it was a werewolf. It was no secret that both murders had been committed during a full moon.

Leslie leaned forward and looked out the van's front window.

Overhead, a fat full moon stared back at her.

She shivered.

And that's when she saw him coming towards her.

The man was dressed entirely in black. His long duster billowed out behind him from the cool summer breeze. She could see the silver tips on his boots. And the strangest part was that he was wearing sunglasses.

She rolled up her window as he approached the van. And she leaned back against her seat as he rapped on the glass.

Tentatively, she rolled the window down an inch.

"Yes?"

The Man in Black produced a cigarette. "You have a light?"

Leslie shook her head. "Sorry," she said. "I don't smoke."

He nodded his head and then walked off, disappearing into the sea of cars.

Leslie sighed. She'd always heard that weirdoes came out when it was a full moon.

And that's when she saw Steve coming towards the van. He was holding her bucket of popcorn. He got there and climbed into the driver's seat.

"What was that about?" he asked, smiling.

"Nothing," said Leslie. "He wanted a light for his cigarette."

Steve nodded and handed her the popcorn.

"Come on," he said. "Let's climb into the back."

Leslie smiled. "Okay."

The two of them got into the back of the van. As they settled down, Steve produced a joint. He lit it up, inhaling deep.

"Is that all you're going to do?" asked Leslie. "Smoke dope?"

"Why not," said Steve. He winked. "Is there a law against it?"

Leslie laughed. She reached out for the joint. Steve handed it over and she took a long hit. She coughed and handed it back to him.

"Coughing is good," he said. "That means you got a good one."

"Want to have sex?"

"Does a cat have a butt?" replied Steve.

"Some bigger than others," laughed Leslie.

Steve reached over and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned her against the back doors. He pulled open her shirt, gently kissing down between her breasts.

And that's when the back doors were ripped open.

Standing outside was the werewolf. Saliva dripped down off its fangs.    Immediately it grabbed Leslie out of Steve's grip. And it bent down, feasting on her naked white throat. Blood shot out in a gory geyser, painting Steve's face red.

Steve scrambled back to the front of the van. He started it up, jerking the van forward.

Behind him, the werewolf was thrown outside.

In his haste, Steve rammed into the back of a 1972 Charger parked directly in front of him. And then he rammed it again, and again. Finally, he steered around the car. But, in his rush, he slammed into the retainer wall surrounding the drive-in.

The van went up in an explosion, blowing pieces of charred Steve all over the parked cars.

Meanwhile, the werewolf dropped Leslie's dead corpse. And then it bounded away, running into the woods behind the drive-in.

It had saturated its blood thirst for the night. But it would be back. Like a thunderstorm hitting your town or a summer heat blaze:

It would be back.

"You say the girl created the pollen?"

"Something like that," replied Rafe Hollister. "She showed up at my flower stand and starting making a big deal. Said I was killing flowers and some bullshit. Then she raised her hands and all the pollen shot out of the flowers. She let it fall down on me and nearly killed my sorry ass."

Romero laughed.

"And then what happened?"

"She got into a van with a feller and just drove on. It was the damnedest thing I've ever seen."

Romero lit a cigarette. This was all very interesting.

"And you say you work for the government?" asked Rafe.

"It's something like that, Mr. Hollister. The best I can tell you is that my employer will be very glad to hear of your story."

"Well," said Rafe, "maybe something good will come out of it all."

Romero nodded. She took another drag of her cigarette and stood up. She walked over to the back door of Rafe Hollister's kitchen. A fresh smell of chicken shit wafted over towards her.

"Oh, it will," she told him. "There's no doubt about that."

And then she hit him in the back of the head with her pistol. Rafe crumbled to the floor, blood gushing from the head wound.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, reaching up in a vain attempt to stop the blood flow.

"I'm going to kill you," said Romero, smiling.

She straddled Rafe and began to pistol whip him to death. By the time she was finished, you couldn't tell it was Rafe Hollister if you'd known him your entire life. His features were completely gone.

Romero stood up and looked down at her suit. It was stained with gore.

"Look what you've done," she told Rafe's corpse. "You've ruined it."

Suddenly, she felt a pang in her stomach.

"I knew I shouldn't have eaten those damned enchiladas," she said.

And pulling down her pants, she shit on Rafe Hollister's destroyed face.

Billy knew that his father had been lying. There was no way that the drunken bastard would have converted to Christianity. It had all been a load of bullshit.

That night, Hank had come home and started to beat on his wife, Susan. He'd slapped her around, and then took the Jim Beam bottle she had hidden behind the couch and slammed her over the head with it. The bottle exploded with as much force as he put into it. He ignored Susan's serious head wound.

And he turned his attention onto Billy.

Billy could smell the reek of moonshine whiskey on his father's breath as he opened and closed his jaws. Spittle flew from his lips. And then he was taking off his $9.99 Sears belt. He folded it around his fist, and shook it at Billy.

"And you, you little bastard," he said. "I'm going to beat you until you can't sit down."

Billy ran for the front door. As his father reached out to grab him, he tripped over the living room table. Billy heard him scream as the table bit a chunk out of his leg.

Quickly, Billy ran for the swamps. The only thing he could think of was hiding in the plants that he'd grown. He knew that his father would eventually catch him, but he was going to give him one hell of a race.

Running for what felt an eternity, with his father right behind him, Billy finally reached the plants. He ducked inside, rushing past the gorgeous flora that he'd grown.

"Alright, you little cocksucker," said Hank, "I've got you now."

Slowly, Billy backed up against the wall of the plant.

Hank lashed out with the belt. He slapped Billy across the face, splitting open his lips. Billy could feel one of his teeth rattle around in his mouth. He spat it out in a bloody stream.

"I'm going to kill you," Hank told him.

And Billy didn't doubt him. There was something in his father's bloodshot eyes that he could see he wasn't lying.

Hank got on top of Billy. He hit him again, and again. Billy was nearly unconscious when the plant came alive.

From behind him, a large plant reared up its head. It opened it jaws, rimmed with tiny fangs, and bit down on Hank's leg.

"What the fuck?"

It jerked Hank up into the air. And then, flipping him over, dropped him entirely into its mouth.

Using his strength, Hank stood up. He pried the thing's jaws open. He fought vainly, attempting not to be swallowed.

But the plant was stronger.

And with a mighty bite, it swallowed Hank whole.

Billy lay there looking at the plant. He winced at the bruises on his busted up face, but still had to smile.

"Venus fly trap," he muttered. "They eat meat."