chapter 11
Monsters and Demons
Laken
The wind whistles and howls as fractured cackles echo throughout campus at this late hour. I run up the hill and crest over the ridge just south of the giant boulders that sit in a clearing.
I send a quick text to Coop. Where are you?
Right behind you.
I spin on my heels to find his expansive shoulder span, his happy-to-see-me grin.
“Coop!” I jump up and hug him as if we had been separated for generations—as if death had interceded, and we were being reunited after an entire lifetime apart.
“It’s okay. I got you. You did good.” He presses a kiss in my neck and nuzzles into me a moment. It’s sweet like this with Coop, safe. No pretenses, no lies—not a single secret lingers between us. “Wes knows,” he whispers. His features soften as if he were sorry to convey the news.
“Knows what?” An explosion of panic fills me, and I’m not sure why.
“That you’ve been taking blood from me. He knows you can read his mind—I guess he’s known for a while.” He steadies his eyes over me. “It’s a long story.”
Shit.
“Excuse me?” An impatient voice calls from behind.
We turn to find Hattie in her Ephemeral cheer uniform, looking more than a little disgusted by our bold show of affection.
“We’re just friends.” I spit it out so fast it sounds like the excuse it is. “Special friends.”
Hattie gives a coy smile.
“I found my special friend tonight.” That wicked gleam returns to her eyes, and for a moment my stomach pinches at the thought of not trusting her again.
“If it’s Kresley or Grayson I might have to educate you on what a true friend is,” I say only partially kidding. Those girls qualify as the training grounds for the future bitches of America and not much else.
“I’m talking about, Flynn.” She shakes her head, and her ponytail coils in a single ringlet in the back. “He asked me to find you. He said he needed to talk to the both of you but not to tell anyone else.”
“Hattie!” I rush over to her.
“Where is he?” Coop darts a glance into the forest in a fit of frustration. “Is he all right?”
She shrinks a little as if she knows he’s anything but all right.
“God—he’s not dead is he?”
“I don’t think he’s dead.” Hattie inverts her perfect bowtie lips as if she wasn’t entirely telling the truth.
“Shit.” Cooper stamps it out because we’re both thinking the same thing.
What Flynn might be going through is a lot more complicated than death.
“Can you take us to him?” I ask, trying to restrain myself from freaking out.
“Oh yes.” She heads in the direction of the woods. “He’s got new friends and everything.”
Coop and I exchange looks.
Sleepy Hollow comes upon us with its long nefarious arms. The violet sky acts as a dramatic backdrop to the necrotic skeletal maples, the bare-naked birch trees with their network of fingerlike protrusions.
Coop plucks a flashlight out of his jeans and illuminates a path as Hattie runs us deeper into the woods.
He interlaces our fingers and pulls me in.
What if this is a trap? I ask, trying to keep up with him. How well do we know Hattie? And who the hell is she if she’s not a Tobias?
“Hattie!” Coop barks, and she comes to a standstill. Those large doe eyes of hers look slightly terrified by his tone. “When you came to me that first night, you said you wanted to help find your family.”
She takes an uneasy step toward us. “That’s what they wanted me to say.”
“Who are ‘they,’ Hattie?” I ask, trying to maintain the fine line of trust with her. “Is it Wesley?”
Her eyes widen as if she sees where this is going.
“You don’t believe me. You think I’m here to hurt you. I would never do that Laken. You have to believe me. Flynn and you—you’re my only friends.”
“A few weeks back,” I start, “you morphed into a monster in the dining hall. As far as I know, Celestra can’t do that.” I don’t finish, and let her surmise what she will.
“There was a Fem with me that morning. He said he liked to have fun with you.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. We shouldn’t speak. They might hear.
I give a brief nod. Tell me, Hattie. Who’s doing this? Are they trying to throw me off?
I can’t go back there. Her face fills with fear, and for a second I think she’s going to bolt. I shouldn’t say anything else.
Then don’t tell me. I tighten my grip over her. Show me their faces.
Here are your enemies, Laken. An image of Jones pops up with his tie notched just above his sweater. Edinger stains the landscape of her mind, seated at his desk—across from him sits Cooper. He leans over and shakes Edinger’s hand, and my blood runs cold. My body goes numb from the visual. Her mind goes blank, and it’s done.
Wesley wasn’t a part of the show.
I glance over at the boy who so efficiently stole my heart. Cooper?
Which one put you up to this? I pull Hattie in as if I were about to give her a hug.
Figure it out, Laken. I’m not going back into that hellhole just because you can’t do the math.
The rustle of branches emits from the south.
“They’re here!” She pulls me along as we trek deeper into the armpit of these unhallowed woods until we come upon a clearing. “Flynn?” Her voice quivers as she calls his name.
A stench fills the air. One by one the shadows around us come to life, and bodies fill in the landscape.
I suck in a quick breath.
“There’s enough of them to outfit a small city,” I whisper to Coop.
Too bad they’re not human. Every single one of them is a Spectator.
I latch onto Cooper for dear life.
We’re surrounded—far too outnumbered to ever win this war.
If this isn’t a trap, I don’t know what is.
Cooper
Spectators hold a peculiar stench. They make rotting fish and sour milk smell about as pleasant and welcome as apple pie.
The shadows move in around us. Bodies, in numbers too high to count, shade the open spaces as grunts and howls take over the night.
I would have thought we could trust Hattie. I thought for sure she was leading us to Flynn as she made us believe. And now, here we are a hundred deep in a crowd of long forgotten humans who happen to crave the very thing we need to survive—brains.
I run my hand up my thigh as I reach for the meager weaponry on me. I’ve got nothing but a six-inch pocketknife and my bare hands to protect Laken. There are far too many of them to ever win this fight.
A hard grunt riles up the masses. A Spectator with jeans and an Ephemeral practice jersey makes his way to the middle with his wiry hair, his body strutting in staccato motions, his arms and legs locked in their partial rigor state. I recognize those stoned out eyes—that stupefied look.
Shit.
“Flynn!” Hattie runs over and jumps on his stiff frame causing him to stumble back a few good feet.
“Looks like she’s the real deal after all,” Laken whispers, wrapping her arms tight around my waist.
“Coop,” Flynn grunts it out with all his effort.
I head over and lay my hand over his so he can speak his mind, literally.
His flesh is cold to the touch and rubbery as a corpse, but I suppose that’s par for the course as far as Spectators go.
“What the hell happened?” I ask as the crowd narrows in on us. Laken places her hand over mine in an effort to listen in.
Dude! He grunts in his enthusiasm. I found the Tobias family. They’re ready and willing to head to the resurrection chamber. By the way, I think I’m going to need some resurrecting myself.
I glance at Laken. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to tell Flynn there’s no cure for his condition.
“What are all these other people doing here?” Laken shudders when she says the word people. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Flynn looks around at the growing number of Spectators.
Dude, these guys are tight, he asserts. And they’re ready and willing to try anything to improve their situation. They’re totally down with checking out, Ezrina. He grunts as if to annunciate his point.
“Which one bit you?” I pan the vicinity for the guilty party. We may as well pinpoint who’s to blame for Masterson’s demise. I don’t know why he would get so close to one to begin with.
There were these two hot chicks. He looks down with the hint of a budding smile. Dude, they were hitting on me. It was like they wanted a threesome right there in the woods, and you could hardly see the rot on their faces. They were like cover models. I couldn’t resist.
Laken and I groan in unison.
“I hope you’re happy, Flynn,” Laken snips. “Just because you couldn’t control that garden snake in your pants, we’re going to have a zombie apocalypse on our hands. You have successfully screwed us all.”
Garden snake? He huffs. Honey, I’ll have you know, I have the ability to give anacondas a run for their slithering money. If you want a private show just name the time and place.
“Oh gross!” Laken swats him in the chest. “Just call off your friends, so we can get out of here with our brains intact.”
Exactly. Flynn grunts as he says it. We all want to get a move on to the Transfer, so Ezrina can get her potions in motion. He slaps an arm over my shoulder. Let’s roll, buddy.
I glance around at the enormous crowd.
I’d have to carry them all individually. This would take weeks. Tell them it’s just the Tobias family for now.
Flynn calls out to the crowd in what sounds like a Spectator’s version of yodeling, and a young boy and girl step forward.
“Where’s the father?” I say it breathless. It’s hard to believe Flynn, in all of his boneheaded glory, actually came through for once.
Dead. Flynn glances from me to Laken. Rumor has it a white hunter with a sharp knife killed him while he was chasing a young girl through these very woods. Pummeled his brains out a few weeks back. Flynn gives an intense look that scares the living shit out of me.
“I killed him?” As if I had to ask.
“And I was the girl.” Laken looks down, despondent over the news. “It was the first day I arrived, and you saved me.” She brushes her fingers over my cheek with a resolute sadness.
“I killed him.” I sway on my feet. I’ve never really viewed them as people before. “It was Emmanuel Tobias.”
The boy and girl step into our midst, and Hattie picks up the little girl’s hand.
“Richard and Kara,” Hattie introduces us to the Spectator duo.
Thunder rolls from above. A tremor of lightning illuminates the forest, and the Tobias sisters appear in tandem—first in their haggard state, then in their healthier, comelier forms.
“Richard! Kara!” Hattie barks as if she were reprimanding them. She and Amelia head over and engage in life-clutching hugs that go on for a long time. “We’re so glad to have you back.” Hattie caresses the side of Kara’s deteriorating face. “This will heal. I promise.” She looks up at her brother. “And father?”
Shit.
Richard shakes his head and grunts out something unintelligible.
“I see.” Hattie and Amelia exchange a forlorn glance. “He’s in paradise,” she whispers to the quieter of the two. They nod into one another as if they were conducting a private conversation.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the two of them at the risk of outing myself as the killer, but neither of them acknowledges my apology.
The original Hattie steps forward and touches the hair of the Celestra taking up residence at Ephemeral.
“They gave you my name,” she says with a marked sense of pride.
Amelia, the silent one, goes over and offers a firm embrace to the doppelganger of the bunch.
“She’s mine,” Hattie says to both Laken and I. “My granddaughter.”
“Granddaughter?” The word expels from Laken in a fog.
“They freed you,” she whispers. “You must never let them take you back.”
“I’ll make sure of that,” I volunteer, hoping to change the terms of our agreement because God knows her other two family members aren’t going to fair as well.
The crowd presses in. A series of grunts and moans swell around us until it’s difficult to make out an escape route in this thicket of undead bodies.
“Cooper…” Laken’s voice quivers.
“We’re going to take them to the Transfer now. We’ll be back for you later.” I shout it loud enough to appease the crowd, and a rush of voices rise into the sky as they cheer in hopes of their newfound freedom.
How are we going to pull this off? Laken squeezes my arm like she’s juicing it for blood.
On three, pick up Kara, and I’ll take Richard. I’ll lead us out to the boulders. Make sure you run as inhumanly fast as possible. Once we hit through the barrier, we can figure things out from there.
Laken looks down at the little girl with her misshapen head, her round eyes bulging unnaturally. I know Laken is thinking of Lacey, how precious this little life is and doesn’t want to hurt her.
Laken presses her face to my neck and inhales sharply as if holding back tears. We can’t let Ezrina hurt her, either of them.
We won’t. Let’s get out of this mosh pit, and we’ll see what we can do. I nod over to Flynn in his haggard state of being.
I clear my throat. “Laken and I will lead the way with the Tobias siblings.”
Hattie and Amelia each hug them goodbye.
“Kara”—Hattie bends to meet her—“you be a good girl. Soon you’ll have your life back, and Laken here will treat you as if you were her own sister. Isn’t that right, Laken?” Hattie glares over at her. She knew just where to place the dig. “Take care of Richard as well.” She straightens. “You did good. When you yield the proper results, we’ll discuss the passage to your loved ones.”
I glance over at Laken. Throw Kara over your shoulder, and whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand.
She offers a firm squeeze. Her eyes light up as if she’s ready for a fight.
“Three!” I shout.
Laken and I snatch up the Tobias siblings and drive down the field, laden with Spectators, as fast as our feet will carry us. Bodies fly as we pick up our pace to supernatural speeds. My foot catches on something, and I send Richard flying through the air like a projectile missile. Laken’s fingers disconnect with mine, and the crowd fills in, pushing and shoving.
“Laken!” I drift further east with my feet off the floor as the Spectators carry me closer to the boulders fully expecting to cross over to the promise land.
We hit the overgrown rock formation and noticeably nothing happens.
Fists pound against the pale blue granite. The stone lays still as the crowd begins to swirl in confusion.
An angry growl penetrates the air and the zombie parade shifts direction.
The entire lot of them, turn and head toward campus.
First stop on the way—Henderson Hall.
Wesley
After scouring every known dorm looking for Coop and Laken, I end up back at the party.
Kresley spent the last twenty minutes teasing me every which way with her stripper routine. No matter how hard I try to avoid her, she manages to pop up in my line of vision with those swollen boobs aching for attention.
“Face it Paxton”—she slithers up from behind and whispers into my ear—“you’re mine tonight, and you know it.”
Shit.
Ironically, despite all of her attention seeking, her periodic nipple flashing, Kresley is the last person on my mind tonight. That picture she showed me of Coop and Laken exchanging a kiss in their coordinated outfits keeps regurgitating itself. What the hell was with the themed costumes, anyway? Is that Laken’s way of giving me the middle finger? I would have sworn on my life that she loved me—that every part of her was genuinely into me—and now she’s off doing who knows what with Cooper.
I bet she spilled the deep dark secrets of her imaginary past, and he chose to play along. In the beginning I considered it. Just something to pass the time until her true memory came back, but I knew it would be dangerous. He’s hurting her in an effort to get into her kick pants. It just proves what an ass Flanders is. And to think, I felt bad about Grayson cheating on him earlier with Fletch. Some part of me wanted to believe Laken tried his blood just the once—one and done. I bet they’re having a good laugh over what an idiot I’ve been all along.
Fletch comes over, looking wrecked—like he’s had some serious carnal affection in that bathroom with Grayson, and now he’s worse for wear.
“We’re going to kill Flanders,” I say, not giving a shit that Kres continues to linger within earshot.
“A felony in the making?” Her eyes sparkle. “Oh, Wes”—she purrs with wicked undertones—“prison colors won’t do a thing for your eyes. Why don’t you let that river rat have him? If she cheated on you once, she’ll do it again. I bet they’re doing it right now as we speak.”
An image of the two of them tangled up in one another, laughing at me with their in sync costumes, grinds through my mind.
Shit. I shake my head, unable to process what’s happening.
We went to the tunnels tonight. We shared something special. There’s no way she’s faking anything with me. Laken is just confused.
A few girls scream near the entrance as an entire group of people move into the party.
Fletch smacks me in the stomach. “Looks like we’ve just been invaded.”
“It’s those douches from Rycroft.” Kres folds her arms and rocks on her heels. “Rumors were flying all week about some lame stunt they planned because they lost the homecoming game.”
Grayson pops up beside Fletch. “Looks like they took the zombie route.”
They grunt and push their stiffened limbs well into the common room. The crowd goes ballistic with people shoving and pushing as the furniture topples over.
A window bursts from behind, spraying the vicinity with broken glass as an entire legion of idiots stream in through the jagged shards.
“Shit!” Fletch jumps back, and his shirt catches the light with flecks imbedded in it.
“Get security,” I snap. “I have to make a phone call.”
I pluck my cell out just as I’m bumped from behind, and it goes flying.
“Shit.”
One of the bastards from Rycroft grabs me by the neck and pulls me in with bionic force. Then I smell it. That distinct stench I’ve gagged on at least a thousand times before. My knee flies up like a reflex, and I manage to topple him right out the broken window.
“Get Cooper,” I bark to Fletch. “These aren’t idiots from Rycroft—they’re Spectators.”
Flanders bursts in through the room and turns on the lights.
“Everybody out!” He booms as if he were about to launch a grenade. He holds up a fire extinguisher and lets it rip over the crowd as bodies begin to stream outside.
“There’s some more in the back.” I pull Fletch to the kitchen, and we pick up our own extinguishing weaponry.
We spray down the room, covering the cowering menaces until all of them have hightailed it back outside.
I launch the metal canister across the room and shove Coop against the large framed window so hard the glass rattles around him.
“Where the hell is Laken?” I roar it in his face.
“Out there.” He nods past the door.
From over his shoulder, I can make out the crowd dispersing, and girls screaming, as a few stray Spectators give chase. I toss Coop to the floor as I barrel my way outside.
“Laken!” My voice pierces through the icy night air as the fog blankets the area.
Edinger pops up wearing that sickly smile he dons like a disguise.
“Have you seen her?” I pant wild into the night. He knows damn well who she is. We’ve had enough conversations about her. He knows what Laken means to me.
“We’ve a situation, Wesley.” He grins out at the scene as if he were conducting a circus. “Round them up and throw away the key.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Promise them everything, then pull the rug from beneath them. Bait and switch, sort of like your sweetheart has managed to do with you.”
I let out a growl and head into the crowd.
“Flanders!” I call to the bastard just as he speeds out of Henderson. “I want all of them gone, or I’m feeding you to them for dinner.” I’m done shitting around the bush with him. It’s about time he feels a little threatened. That’s the underlying problem here. I made him feel too damn safe—coddled him like some damn pet. And the biggest mistake of all—I trusted him.
He squints into the forest in the distance.
“They’re clearing.” He shakes his head. “Flynn’s rounding them up.”
“Flynn?” I pan the crowd for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“He’s one of them now. It’s a long story. I’ll see about getting him back. I’m dropping a couple of young ones off at the Transfer.” He nods over at a little girl by the edge of the woods. “The rest will have to wait. Why don’t you make sure Henderson’s cleared out, and I’ll meet you back there in a few.” He darts his gaze into the crowd as if he’s looking for someone. “Find Laken. Make sure she’s safe.”
I give a little laugh. I’m sure he’s about to do just that.
“I’ll kick your ass later, dude,” I say, making my way back down to the dorm.
Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been played?