One of the women, spotting the ghostly hand shooting up from the ground, weirdly felt a smidge less scared.

  “It’s gotta be the gals from before, coming back for payback.

  They’re gonna rip his heart out, munch on his brains, guzzle his blood, flay him alive, and yank his tendons.

  Even in the afterlife, he won’t catch a break.

  He’ll be tortured, gobbled up by demons, and end up lower than a worm.”

  The man was now shaking in his boots, and the woman’s rant just cranked up the fear factor.

  He watched, bug-eyed, as the mummy sloooowly clawed its way out of the dirt.

  He wet himself, and the stench of pee filled the cave.

  He was a small-town rube, superstitious as all get-out, believing in spooks and spirits.

  Seeing the mummy pop up like that, he was dead sure it was a hellish fiend come to drag him to the underworld.

  The man’s legs were jitterbugging out of control.

  In a full-blown panic, he started shrieking like a banshee, his words all jumbled up.

  “Don’t come near me! Leave me be! I didn’t do squat!”

  “It’s all their fault. They were busybodies, yapping behind my back, giving me the side-eye. They had it coming.”

  “So I turned ’em into these freaky half-human, half-ghost things. Looking at ’em each day gave me a sick kick, hahaha...”

  Billy Jean, lurking in the shadows, saw the mummy had sent the man off the deep end just by showing up and let out a sigh.

  “That spooky shtick it does is seriously spine-chilling.”

  The mummy crawled out, a red glow flaring in its sunken sockets, zoning in on the man.

  The man backed away, tripping over his own feet, muttering,

  “I’m an psychic. I’m a powerhouse. Nobody can touch me...”

  “Right, I’m an psychic. I’m gonna wipe you out.”

  The man snapped out of his daze a bit and tried to whip up his power.

  The second he lifted his hand, an invisible force wrenched his whole arm into a pretzel shape.

  “AAAAH...”

  His screams ricocheted off the cave walls.

  The man clutched his mangled right arm, sweating like a pig from the pain.

  All of a sudden, his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched his left hand start twisting like a corkscrew.

  “AAAAH... No, no!”

  He hollered in terror, clawing at his hand, but it was no use.

  He could only watch, horrified, as his other arm got twisted into a knot.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Crack, crack...”

  The sound of bones snapping filled the air.

  Both arms hung limp and crooked.

  The agony was so bad, the man was screaming his lungs out.

  “AAAAAAAAH...”

  But the nightmare wasn’t over.

  His body started to tip backward, but his feet were glued to the floor.

  His back arched until it was practically snapping, and still it kept going.

  The man’s eyeballs bulged, bloodshot to high heaven.

  “AAAAH...”

  With another ear-piercing screech,

  “Crack...”

  The sickening snap of his spine breaking rang out.

  The man’s head was practically kissing his butt, his body folded in half like a pretzel, not a gap in sight.

  “Crack... Crack...”

  Two sharp cracks came as his leg bones buckled and he crashed to the ground.

  “BOOM...”

  After that, it was a non-stop “crack, crack, crackle” racket.

  Every bone in his body was popping and creaking.

  The man was flopping around like a fish out of water, making all kinds of grotesque, mind-bending moves.

  It was like a horde of invisible ghostly hands had him in a death grip, yanking him this way and that.

  His shrill screams never let up, echoing through the cave and spreading until the whole village could hear.

  In the end, except for his eyeballs, which were twitching like crazy, the man’s body was a limp noodle, like a pile of mush.

  “Mmm... Mmm-uh...”

  He couldn’t squeak out a single word.

  At this point, he saw a pair of feet shuffle up.

  When he caught sight of the drop-dead gorgeous face, his eyes went wide.

  “Mmm... Mmm...”

  He was begging for mercy.

  Billy Jean suddenly flashed a grin, like she was mocking his idiocy.

  She beckoned to the mummy, which scurried over and stood at her back, obedient as a pup.

  The man saw the mummy and his eyes filled with dread.

  When he realized the mummy was playing sidekick to Billy Jean, he was so mad he spat up blood.

  But by now, he was toast.

  Billy Jean whipped out her bone blade and sliced through the chains binding the women.

  The blade zipped back into her hand.

  “Let’s bounce.”

  She spun on her heel and walked out, the mummy tagging along like a shadow.

  The women behind them pounced on the man like a pack of wildcats, unloading all their pent-up rage.

  The man’s bloodshot eyes were glued to Billy Jean’s back, burning with resentment.

  Then a rock came flying and caved in half his head.

  But the women didn’t stop.

  Rocks rained down like hail, and the air reeked of blood.

  Billy Jean listened to the chaos behind her, a small smile playing on her lips as she strolled out of the cave.

  Michael Joke didn’t go in because the women were in their birthday suits.

  He camped outside instead.

  “Let’s roll.”

  A human, a zombie, and a mummy slipped away from the back mountain as quietly as they’d arrived.

  All the zombies in the village were lured by the blood scent and slithered into the cave.

  Michael Joke didn’t head back to the old house.

  He crashed in the car.

  Billy Jean and the mummy perched on the car roof, facing the cold wind all night.

  Billy Jean: ...

  The mummy: ...

  The sun peeked over the horizon, and a new day dawned.

  A military vehicle peeled out of Lasvgas Village, hit the main road, and zoomed off.

  Inside the car, it was like a scene from a wacky family road trip again.

  Michael Joke was behind the wheel, chomping on an energy bar.

  Billy Jean, riding shotgun, had a blood bag clamped between her teeth.

  The mummy, sandwiched in the middle, was empty-handed and looking on with puppy-dog eyes.

  “Michael, we making a beeline for Zojia-city now?” Billy Jean asked.

  “Yup.”

  “How far’s the haul? How long till we get there?”

  “’Bout three hundred-plus clicks.”

  “Hope the rest of the ride’s smooth sailing so we can send this big lug home pronto.”

  Billy Jean shot a glance at the mummy, sitting there like a goody-two-shoes.

  Less than an hour after Billy Jean piped up, trouble reared its ugly head.

  A massive tree was sprawled across the road up ahead, and Michael Joke had to slam on the brakes.

  Who knew that the second he stopped, a mob of people burst out of the bushes by the roadside and swarmed the car.

  Each one was wielding a wicked long machete and looking mean as sin.

  “BOOM... BOOM...”

  The ringleader, a hulking brute, banged on the car window with the machete handle, hard.

  Michael Joke rolled down the window.

  The three of them—pop, mom, and kid—turned their heads to eye the big fella.

  The big man rolled up his sleeves, showing off his badass tattoos.

  He was all set to bark out a nasty threat when he saw the mummy in the car and broke out in a cold sweat.

  “What’s the deal?” Michael Joke asked, ice cold.

  The big man did a 180, going from tough-guy swagger to groveling and bowing like a butler.

  “Nothing, really. I just wanted to let you know there’s a snag up ahead. Hang tight for a sec. I’ll go clear the path so you can cruise on through.”

  The big man’s goons were all slack-jawed.

  What in tarnation was the boss up to?

  One of the followers hollered,

  “Boss, ain’t we here to loot supplies?”