The Creeping

Sam hesitates for a second, holding my gaze. My hands fall to my sides; they feel awkward there, purposeless. He reaches into his hoodie and pulls out a white envelope. “I couldn’t get the part about monsters out of my head. I even dreamed about it. And then it hit me this morning. The spring before Jeanie was taken, we played at Jeanie and Daniel’s a lot.” Sam levels his gaze with mine. “We were always playing in the woods.” I go absolutely still.

His brow creases, and he rubs his chin with the effort of remembering. “We were pretending to slay dragons and play-fight as cowboys and Indians.” He frowns. “We weren’t the only kids playing in the forest—the woods are everywhere in Savage.” He’s right. The woods and their shadows are all around us. “There were always urban legends going around school. Bloody Mary stories. Goblins and ghosts in the woods.” I incline my head. I remember a lot of those from slumber parties. “But in the months before Jeanie went missing—I can’t remember exactly when—a group of older boys swore they saw something in the forest—I want to say cannibals. Then the rumors spread, and more kids said they’d seen stuff in the woods; all different creatures that couldn’t exist. You know how kids are with rumors and made-up stuff. I remember us at Jeanie’s, and we were going to drive something out of hiding. I wasn’t sure any of that mattered, though. Then I found this.” Sam slides a single photo from the envelope. I take it and slump down to the couch.

It’s a Polaroid snapshot of five kids. Weird that I recognize myself only after I spot Sam, Caleb, Daniel, and Jeanie in the photo. We’re lined up like little soldiers, and everyone but Jeanie is grinning fiercely at the camera. I’m more growling than smiling, with one arm slung over Sam’s shoulders.

“Remember that Zoey ran around with a Polaroid camera all of first and second grade?” Sam asks. I nod. “Well, she had it in kindergarten, too. She must be the one taking the picture. The four of us would have been six, and Caleb and Daniel would have been finishing third grade. This is the spring before Jeanie was taken.”

I bob my head dumbly again, running my finger over the objects we’re gripping in our chubby-knuckled hands. “Sam, are those what I think they are?” I ask quietly.

He sinks down next to me. “Yeah,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “Those are spears that Daniel and Caleb made from sticks and arrowheads they found in the woods.”

Our savage expressions, the crude weapons, the smears of dirt on our cheeks, those strange words I chose when Jeanie was taken, all add up. I take a shaky breath and whisper, “We were hunting monsters.”





Chapter Fifteen


My hands tremble as I bring the picture closer to my face. I tilt it from side to side. I even examine its back. I don’t know what I’m looking for—maybe some clue to appear like the images in those Magic Eye books—but there’s nothing find.

“Do you remember this day?” I ask, pivoting on the couch to face him.

“Not really. But I remembered hiding a few pictures away. Feeling like they were my secret treasure. I stuck this one in the pages of a ratty copy of Where the Wild Things Are hidden under my box spring. It was still there when I looked.” His brow pleats as he prepares to explain more. “After Jeanie was taken, my parents talked to me about strangers who kidnap children, and that whole conversation is scar tissue on my memory.” He taps his head as if to indicate exactly what part of his brain he’s talking about. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew. “It was traumatic and made everything surrounding Jeanie’s disappearance vague. I remember the bit about the rumors, and I sort of remember being afraid, but there’s nothing clear or specific about it. I’m sorry,” Sam says. He leans back into the couch cushions. I angle forward slightly as though there’s a string attaching us.

“You were only six. And you found this.” I pat his knee. “Wait a sec.” I point to the older boys in the photo. “We were only six, but Caleb and Daniel were nine. I have loads of memories from being nine.”

“You’re right. Daniel and Caleb should be able to remember this.” Sam tugs his cell from his pocket and begins dialing as I’m going for mine. “They should be able to remember the rumors, too,” he adds. He’s right. When I asked Caleb to help me remember that summer, he should have mentioned it, right? But why would I expect Caleb—Caleb who up until two years ago hung out with stoners—to remember every game of make-believe and goofy adventure we had? And to be fair, he wouldn’t understand the significance of it, because he doesn’t know what six-year-old me muttered 255 times.

I dial Caleb and an instant later hang up. He told me he’d rat me out to keep me safe. I’m pretty certain sharing that we uncovered a forgotten photo from that summer and letting him know that I enlisted Sam’s help would send him snitching. A second later Sam says, “Hey, Daniel, it’s Sam. I know you might be spending the night with your dad, but give me a call. It’s important. I think we’re on to something, man.” He returns the cell to his jeans.

“I can’t ask Caleb,” I explain. “He was with us earlier, and I tried to get him talking about Jeanie. He said it was too dangerous for me to be involved.”