David staggered back from the door. Blood was actively streaming down his arm and leg, dripping steadily into the dirt. His face was entirely pale, slick with cold sweat.
"God… what absolute devilish garbage…" he cursed through his teeth, spitting out blood. His voice vibrated with raw fury. "Get the gasoline and the lighter. We need to burn this house to the ground."
He looked at his children, his eyes wild and intense.
"Completely. So that not even ash remains."
Ethan stood there exhaling heavily, his knuckles white around the handle of his silver dagger. Gina, firmly clamping down on her bitten thigh, nodded, though her face was twisted in pain.
"I'll get it," she said, limping toward the backpacks they had left a short distance away.
David leaned his back against a nearby tree, his eyes locked on the cabin. From inside, the vicious splashing and frantic shrieking continued; the creatures were hurling themselves against the door, desperately trying to break out.
"We burn them all…" he whispered. "Before they escape and start spreading further."
Ethan looked from his father back to the cabin, a grim sense of satisfaction rising within him. They were going to torch the place, and it was going to be a hell of a sight.
Gina, limping and grimacing from the throbbing pain, was already standing ready. Blood was still seeping through her torn pant leg, but she held her weapon firmly, prepared to defend them at a moment's notice.
"Hurry up," she gasped, casting a tense look at the structure. The malicious splashing and muffled wails from within were only growing louder. "Before they break out."
Ethan rushed over to the door they had just barricaded with the heavy board. He uncapped the canister and began generously sloshing gasoline over the cabin walls, the threshold, and the open window frames. The sharp, pungent stench of fuel instantly saturated the night air.
Gina stood right beside him, acting as his shield, her blade pointed squarely at the trembling door. Every so often she winced from her injury, but she didn't retreat a single step.
David watched them while leaning heavily against the tree trunk.
"Douse everything. Especially around the foundation. We want the fire moving up from the bottom so they can't slip underneath."
Ethan finished emptying the canister and recoiled backward, his hands still trembling from the adrenaline. He looked at his father, then at his sister.
"It's ready…"
Gina nodded, taking a step back without lowering her guard.
"Light it up."
Ethan flicked the long lighter. A small flame danced. He tossed the burning lighter directly at the base of the fuel-soaked wall.
The fire caught instantly with a thunderous WHOOSH and a brilliant, blinding flash. The flames raced up the timber, hungrily consuming the dry, weathered wood. Within seconds, the entire cabin was engulfed in an inferno. Great tongues of fire leapt high into the air, casting a bloody orange glow across the clearing. From deep inside the blaze erupted a multi-voiced, agonizing shriek—the monsters were burning alive.
David stared unblinkingly at the raging fire.
"Burn, you bastards…" he whispered. "Every last one of you."
Ethan and Gina stood at his side, watching the conflagration. The wood popped and crackled violently as the fire devoured the rotten structure, taking whatever horrors hid inside along with it.
Ethan watched the bright orange sheets of flame lick the lower logs, rising higher and higher, painting the clearing in a restless, pulsing light. He swallowed hard and turned toward his father.
"Dad, are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, his voice strained. "If we burn it right now, in the dead of night… the VKP patrols might see the smoke. They'll come down on us immediately…"
David merely let out a low snarl in response, his fingers tightly clamping the wound on his shoulder as blood leaked through his hands.
"I don't care," he spat through his teeth. "By morning, there won't be a trace of this nest left. Do it!"
His voice left no room for argument. It carried that absolute, unyielding paternal authority that always surfaced in their darkest hours.
Ethan nodded, abandoning any further protest. He watched the cabin timbers warp and crackle under the intense heat.
Gina wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, looking over at her brother. Her face was heavily smudged with soot and blood.
"I think that does it," she said.
The fire flared with sudden, spectacular brilliance.
"Fall back," their father commanded.
The malicious shrieks inside grew sharper, morphing into a literal choir of despair and raw fury. The grindylows clearly realized their fate.
Suddenly, from the narrow gaps beneath the shifting foundation, several pale, thin, webbed hands burst outward. They clawed frantically at the dirt, gouging deep furrows into the mud in a desperate attempt to squeeze free. The webbed fingers twisted and the sharp claws scratched against the burning wood and soil, leaving behind black, slimy streaks. A wet, frantic choking and muffled squeals echoed from the gaps.
"They're trying to crawl out…" Ethan whispered, taking a defensive step back.
David didn't hesitate.
He quickly tore a strip of old fabric from one of the backpacks, wrapped it securely around a thick branch, and doused it with the remaining fuel. He struck the lighter, and the cloth erupted into a bright orange blaze.
"Burn, you freaks!" he growled through his teeth.
With a powerful swing, he hurled the improvised torch straight onto the porch. The burning brand struck the gasoline-soaked wood, and the entrance exploded into a wall of fire.
A few of the creatures still attempted to force their way through the cracks, but the wall of flame cut them down instantly. The pale, webbed hands twitched violently, hissed, charred to a black crisp, and vanished back beneath the floorboards into the inferno.
Gina stood firm beside them, her fingers tight around her pistol. Her face was starkly illuminated by the dancing shadows, her eyes reflecting the roaring fire.
Ethan found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the burning structure.
In a final stroke of panic, some of the creatures attempted to smash directly through the main door. The heavy wood shook and groaned under the weight of their wet, thrashing bodies.
But David and Gina were already waiting for them.
"Don't let them past!" David barked.
He stood directly in front of the exit, clamping his wound with one hand while gripping his dagger in the other. The moment the first grindylow managed to force its way through the breaking door, David met it with a heavy shower of salt and a brutal drive of his blade. The creature hissed violently, its wet skin smoking and peeling, before it collapsed onto the dirt, writhing in absolute agony.