The clown's right arm shot upward, and his fingerless-gloved hand fastened around Seth's throat and squeezed tight. The clown sat up, and his one remaining eye-his living eye-fixed on Seth with white-hot hatred. Holy shit! The motherfucker wasn't dead! Seth didn't know how Roman and Elston could've made such a mistake, and right then it didn't matter. He needed to get away from this bastard before he ended up like No-Face over there.

He grabbed hold of the clown's forearm with both hands and tried to break his grip, but no matter how hard he pulled, it was no use. The killer was unbelievably strong, especially for someone who had been injured so severely that a pair of highly trained and experienced EMTs thought he was dead.