I stood, scanned the forest one last time. I’d lie down, read and— The barest hint of white fabric peeked from behind one of the trees. Breath caught in my throat, burning, as cold fingers of dread crawled down my spine. Okay, so there would be a confrontation, after all.
Adrenaline rode through my veins on a tide of urgency, and I knew there would be no talking myself into staying put.
I grabbed the baseball bat I’d borrowed from Pops.
I should have done this a long time ago, but I’d allowed fear and memories of what had happened after the crash to stop me. But I was smarter now, stronger. I’d survived my first day at a new school. I could brave the scary outdoors to discover what, exactly, haunted the forest.
“I’m sorry, but I have to break your rules, Dad,” I whispered.
The monsters hunger for your flesh, your organs, I heard him say, and for a moment, the past held me enthralled. If they see you, they will chase you. And if they catch you, they will devour you.
How do you know? I remembered asking him, not because I’d believed him but because I’d hoped to trip him up and force him to see how wrong he was. Have you ever been chased?
A few times, but they’ve never caught me.
Well, if they’ve never caught you, how do you know they wanted to devour you?
I could feel the evil of their intentions pulsing from their bodies.
Dad, you can’t—
You can, but more than that, a few years ago I found a book that tells all about them.
And you believe everything this book says? Undoubtedly a work of fiction.
He’d thought for a moment. Well, no. It says guns can’t hurt the monsters, but guns can hurt anything. And I’ve talked to others like me—
In chat rooms, I’d said drily. Where forty-year-old men liked to pretend to be seventeen-year-old girls. Awesome.
Yes, and they all say the same thing. The monsters want to eat us.
I forced the memory to the back of my mind, where guilt and sorrow and a million other things churned, and quietly stalked down the stairs. Out the back door I went, stepping onto the porch and stopping to give my eyes time to adjust to the dark. Warmth bathed the night, a cloying blanket I couldn’t shake. Crickets chirped, and locusts sang. Leaves rubbed together as the wind whistled.
In and out I breathed—and caught the most disgusting scent ever. My nose wrinkled, and I grimaced. Honestly, if you stuck your head inside a dead horse’s rectum, you wouldn’t smell anything close to this. (I haven’t, by the way. I was only guessing there.) It was like rotten eggs mixed with dog farts and doused with skunk spray.
My hand tightened on the bat as I scanned the yard. Grasshoppers jumped in different directions. Flaxen moonlight and writhing shadows tangoed as the trees swayed, but nothing jumped out at me.
Okay. All right, then. I could do this. One step, two, I approached the back of the stockade fence. I trembled violently, my limbs threatening to lock up, but I convinced myself to keep going.
Finally, I stood at the gate that led to the forest. Little beads of sweat slid down my spine, and all I wanted to do was race back into my room. Again I listened, breathing in more of that rancid decay. It was stronger now, thickening the air and actually burning the back of my throat. I gagged.
With a shaky hand, I reached out and unhooked the latch. As the gate creaked open, I lifted the bat and assumed the I will beat you to death—really, I mean it! position. A minute ticked by, surely an eternity, but nothing happened. No one attempted to accost me.
Come on, Bell. You can do this, remember? Inch by inch, I moved past the fence, past the line of bushes and into the core of the forest. My gaze scanned left and right. I’d seen that hint of wedding dress over…get ready…there.
Swing—
Nothing. I’d hit nothing.
I stilled, my arms quaking. The moon’s rays were hindered by the thick canopy of leaves that stretched above me, darkening the entire area, so I couldn’t see if there were prints on the ground or not. My heart began to thunder, then lightning followed, little electrical impulses razing the center of my chest.
Behind me, a twig snapped.
I whipped around, swung—and once again hit nothing. I gulped, swallowing the knot trying to lodge in my throat.
I’d never understood the stupid girl in every horror movie ever made, the one who heard a scary noise and went to investigate all by her lonesome…only to be knifed or tortured. I’d thought, if only she would have called the police, waited for help, something, anything, such a horrible fate would have been avoided.
Now, I so understood. Who could I tell about this? Everyone would think I was certifiable, like my dad. I could be locked away, medicated…forgotten.
I sucked it up, just like the stupid horror movie girls, and ventured deeper into the woods. Deeper still…
Another twig snapped behind me. Again I jerked around, my bat already swinging. Again nothing stood in my way—but this time, I saw something.
Reeling, I managed to gasp, “Emma?”