I spin around, and now the jabuticabas do spill out of my basket.

My gaze scans the trees around the road, certain the killer is going to spring out at any moment.

That’s when I hear the sound again, only this time, it clearly comes from the bloody carcass in front of me.

Holy shit.

Could the man still be … alive?

The thought is beyond terrifying. He’s been shredded to pieces.

I swallow, taking a step towards the body, dread pooling in my stomach.

Just check to make sure he’s dead …

Still, I hesitate before I touch him. He’s missing an entire arm; it’s just gone. His other arm ends at his elbow, the frayed edges of it a pulpy mess.

My gaze moves down to his chest, which is crisscrossed with lash marks all the way down to his groin. His legs haven’t been amputated, but like his torso, they seem to be flayed open in several spots. Rivulets of watery blood snake away from the naked man, mixing with the rainwater.

The sight of so much pain makes me want to weep.

What happened to you?

The man is so still. Too still. Whatever sound I heard earlier, I must’ve been mistaken.

There’s no way a human could survive these wounds.

My skin is still prickling, instincts telling me to run before whoever did this attacks me too.

Before I get up, I place a hand on the man’s chest, right over his heart—just to be sure he’s well and truly gone.

Beneath my palm, he’s utterly still. There’s no intake of breath, no thump of his heart.

Dead.

I start to withdraw my hand when my attention snags on the soft green light glowing only centimeters away from my fingertips. I squint as I take it in—

What in the hell?

My hand moves of its own accord, my fingers trailing over the glowing markings. This is no piece of jewelry. The markings are a part of the man’s skin.

My eyes flick to the stranger’s face, which is hidden by his matted hair. My pulse begins to quicken.

Could this actually be … ?

But that would mean that the rumors were true. Those ridiculous, frightening rumors.

Surely that can’t be right. Any being strong enough to shake the earth and kill crops couldn’t possibly be contained by humans.

But now I can hear my pulse pounding between my ears and I’m still staring at that face, hidden behind a curtain of wet hair.

On a whim, I reach out and push the dripping locks away from the man’s face, tucking them behind his ear.

At my touch, his eyes snap open, his irises a brilliant green color.

I scream, falling back on my butt.

God and all the saints! What in the actual fuck?

“Help,” he whispers to me, and then his eyes fall shut again.

I’m shivering, staring at the horseman’s unconscious form.

He’s alive. The horseman. The creature sent from God to kill everyone. He’s alive and he’s missing appendages, and now he wants my help.

I hug my arms together. What am I supposed to do?

Tell the town. People need to know the horseman has come.

Would anyone even believe me? An hour ago I wouldn’t have believed me.

So what if they believe you’re a fool? Tell them and let them make up their own minds.

I get to my feet and begin to walk away, my steps hurried.

But then … then I stop. I cast an unsure glance over my shoulder.

That man—supernatural or not—is too hurt to harm anyone. And judging by his wounds, he’s not the great monster the stories made him out to be.

Someone did that to him. Someone who was surely a human.

I stare at his crumpled form for a little longer.

Help. He’d used his only breath to ask for my help.

The thought makes my chest tighten.

If this truly is the horseman … I really should just walk away.

Still, I linger there, in the middle of the road, my eyes fixed on him.

I think about my aunt, who hardly gives two shits about me. If I were lying in a ditch, I’m not sure she’d save me.

I know what it’s like to not be wanted.

And if I were the one hurt and begging for help, I’d want someone to care. Even a stranger.

I swallow.

Fuck, I’m going to do this.

Rain pelts my skin as I grab the horseman under the armpits, my gaze moving up and down the muddy road. There’s no one on this backcountry trail. No one but me and the horseman But someone will come, it’s just a matter of time.

One painstaking step at a time, I drag the horseman off the road and towards an abandoned house that I used to play inside when I was a kid. Even missing appendages, he weighs more than a freaking cow—and a fat cow at that.

The whole time, my heart pounds. Whoever did this to him really could still be out there.

And they’re probably looking for him.

Once I’m inside the building, my legs buckle, and I fall, the horseman collapsing on top of me.

For several seconds I lay beneath his bloody body, struggling to breathe. Of course this is how I would meet my end—suffocating to death under the weight of this gargantuan man. Only I would get myself into this stupid situation.

Can’t believe I’m actually trying to save a fucking horseman of the apocalypse.

Grunting, I push the man off of me, letting his body roll to the side.

I glance at the horseman’s twisted form, frowning.

Maybe save is the wrong word. The man seems pretty dead. And yet still I’m here, hanging out with his body when I should be getting home.

This is why my Aunt Maria doesn’t like me. I can hear her even now. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.

At the thought of her, I remember the basket of fruit I left back on the road. If I’m not only late getting home but I somehow also manage to lose both the fruit and her basket, she’s definitely going to disown my curious ass.

I drag myself back outside into the pouring rain and fetch the stupid basket, half hoping that the horseman is somehow gone when I return to the abandoned building.

But of course he’s not. He still lays in the bloody, dripping heap where I left him.

It’s not too late to walk away—or to tell someone about him.

Of course, I’m not going to.

Too sentimental, my cousins call me.

I set the basket aside and crouch near the horseman. My muscles still tremble from my earlier exertion, but I force myself to lay the horseman out, trying to situate him in as comfortable a position as possible. The whole time I grimace at the cold feel of his body.

He has to be dead.

But the last time I thought that, he wasn’t, and that’s enough to keep me inside this damn house.

So I sit across the room from him as the rain pelts against the leaky roof, ignoring my rising anxiety that I’m not home and will most definitely get a beating for it. I close my eyes and lean my head back against a nearby wall.

I think I might’ve nodded off because when I blink open my eyes it’s nearly dark outside.

On the other side of the room, I hear a terrifying, keening sound. My eyes cut to the source, and there’s the horseman, his weird glowing tattoos giving the house an eerie green glow. In the fading light, I can see the whites of his eyes. He looks confused and frightened.

He is alive after all.

I haven’t exactly thought through what I’m doing when I get up and move over to him, kneeling at his side. He’s staring at the remnants of his arms, which I swear look as though they’ve regrown …