As I head toward the Neely ranch, my breath hovers all around me. The only sound is the wheat being crushed beneath my boots, like tiny skeletons.
The sky looks the same as it did on the night Dad marched into the wheat clutching that crucifix. And I think to myself, what the hell am I even doing out here? This is just morbid … and pathetic. It’s probably nothing. Just my imagination or some dumbass kids from the city. But if they’re looking for ghosts, I can sure lend a hand. Serve them right.
As I reach the edge of our property, I duck under the broken-down fence and walk straight for the breeding barn. I try not to think about the last time I made this trip. The blood. The carnage. When they finally cleared the breeding-floor drains, they found the metal crucifix at the bottom of the pool of blood all twisted up with chunks of fur and intestines.
A soft whisper stops me in my tracks.
At first, it’s so low I wonder if it’s just the wheat swaying in the bitter wind, but it feels more sinister than that.
I force myself to step forward, slow and steady. The closer I get to the breeding barn, the more intense the sound grows. It’s more than one voice. It sounds like people are whispering … in unison. And there’s a beat, a low thud that feels like it’s reverberating up from the soil.
The glow I saw from my bedroom window is candlelight. I can tell by the way it softly flickers through the gaps in the wood of the barn, but I’ve never smelled candles like these. There’s a strange odor in the air … maybe some kind of flower, but with a strong scent of decay, like rotting meat.
I creep around the back of the barn and peek through one of the cracks in the wood. I don’t see anyone, but I hear them, that soft chanting along with the steady boom, like they’re stomping their feet.
A hulking form stretches along the breeding platform, covered by a dingy tarp the police must’ve left behind.
A figure approaches the breeding platform. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie. When he grabs the edge of the tarp, I notice the symbol on his wrist—the upside-down U with two dots above and below. Fucking Tyler. I should’ve known.
Three other people move into view and my heart picks up speed. I crane my neck to see Ben, Tammy, and Jimmy—all the Preservation Society kids. Everyone except Ali. Thank God she’s not involved in whatever this is, but why would she ask me to meet her here? Did she want me to see this? Maybe she wanted me to stop it. Maybe this was the only way she could tell me they’re messing with me, or Tyler put her up to it. Either way, I’m not having it.
Just as I open my mouth to holler at them, tell them the joke’s over, Tyler pulls off the tarp to reveal a dead cow. Must be at least twelve hundred pounds, split right down the middle. My stomach lurches; bile rises in my throat. Is this where the calf came from? Did they cut it out of her stomach? But the cow’s stomach looks full, bloated even.
I’m trying to get control of my breath when I see something roil inside the cow’s stomach. I clamp my hand tight over my mouth, my eyes beginning to water.
Something’s alive in there.
My knees buckle. I press my forehead against the splintery wood to steady myself.
A hand thrusts out from the cow’s stomach.
A human hand, fingers outstretched.
Tyler steps into my line of sight, blocking my view, and I take off running down the length of the barn to get a better look.
The next gap in the dilapidated wood reveals the crown of a head emerging from the cow, dark hair slick with blood.
The chanting and stomping grow louder, more frenetic, but I can hardly hear a word over the siren-like ringing in my ears. Tyler and the others are circling the cow like a sick merry-go-round, creepy smiles plastered on their glowing faces. Dizziness washes over me. I only catch glimpses, slivers of movement inside the circle.
I sprint for the next gap in the wood to see arms and a torso rise from the cow’s stomach. A girl. My heart’s beating so hard I’m afraid it’ll burst. I can’t stop staring at her chest. I know I should feel repulsed, but the sharp curve from her waist to her hip bone fills me with something ancient and primal. Sick and wrong.
My gut is screaming at me to look away, but I can’t stop.
The warm, sticky sound as she crawls out of the carcass seeps deep inside of me, making me woozy.
Tyler and the others sink to their knees before her.
She stands, towering over them, her perfect body glistening with blood and viscera in the golden glow of candlelight.
Slowly, she raises her head.
When I finally see her face, it feels like all the air has been punched from my lungs.
Chin lowered, lips slightly parted, the rise and fall of her chest.
Ali peeks out of her long, slick dark hair.
The air returns to me all at once, and I suck in a rasping breath.
The corners of her mouth curl into a seductive smile. “He’s coming.”
They all turn toward me, their mouths stretched open, letting out a chorus of guttural moans.
8