Crap. That's definitely the sound of an arachnid scuttling around on asphalt, not that she's going to turn around to check. Brooke's stomach drops even further as she realizes just how similar this entire thing feels to her mystery memory. She's not even sure it was a memory—maybe it was a matter of prescience (yes, the science-fiction kind).

Hoping against the stark reality that they've been spotted, Brooke rushes both of them down a side street. If she's lucky, she'll be able to kite the scorpion long enough to get back to the funeral home safely. It's partially underground and pretty secure. The obvious problem is going to be getting to that point in the first place.

"Do you have a weapon?" she asks breathlessly, still trying to keep their distance from big, purple, and poisonous.