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  “Who?”

  She gestured toward the bed.

  “Go on. Get out,” Alice said from her hiding space.

  “We’re not leaving you here,” Michele got down on her hands and knees. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She reached her arms under the bed.

  “I can’t. I can’t”

  Michele found her arm and gently tugged. Teeth clamped into her flesh.

  “Ahhh, Alice.”

  She hauled her hand out holding the bite.

  “Leave me alone. Get out.”

  Michele’s dad tapped her shoulder, relieving her. He crouched down.

  “Alice? I’m Michele’s dad, Bret. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you. You can’t stay here alone.”

  After a minute of silence, Alice’s ghost white hand appeared. The girl climbed out and into his arms.

  “Come on. We gotcha.”

  Stepping into the hallway, her dad said to Alice, “You’re going to need a coat. Is your room up here?”

  Alice nodded and pointed to the door at the far end of the upstairs.

  “Cheli, go in and see if you can find her jacket. We’ll head downstairs and see if we can find a phone or–”

  “The phone’s dead. I found a cell in the bedroom. The cord was ripped and ruined, covered in some kind of goo.”

  “Damn. Okay.” He nodded toward Alice’s room.

  They went together and found her L.L. Bean coat and her dolly. Michele recognized it. She had one of her own that had belonged to her mother. A Cabbage Patch Kid. This one’s bald head was covered in grey smears and smudges.

  “She’s very special to me,” Alice said, clutching the doll to her chest and burying her face in Michele’s dad’s shoulder.

  Michele put her hand on the girl’s back. “We’ll make sure you’re both oaky. Deal?”

  Alice nodded.

  Michele gazed up to her dad. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brenda puffed the cigarette to life. For the first time, she was grateful for her husband’s 1980’s Ford. She reached down to the ashtray, returning the pop-out lighter to its home. She half expected to see something horrible standing in the center of the road when she raised her chin. Instead, it was just the dull dawn and the empty street.

  The little pink Chuck Taylors hanging from the rearview mirror caught her attention. They’d been Michele’s when she was a baby. The upward turn of her lips fell. Bret was such a great father. Their daughter absolutely adored him. Had she ever felt even an ounce of that toward her?

  She took a long drag.

  Had she ever given her daughter reason to? She was hard on the girl Someone had to be. You couldn’t be friends with your children. You had to be a parent. And that was her job. Brenda’s mom had instilled that concept early on. Bret was the fun one, she was the stern one.

  Tight-lipped, Brenda tossed the butt out the window.

  She saw a girl standing by the road. It wasn’t until she was watching the girl heading for the woods in her side mirror that it hit her.

  Jennifer?

  It couldn’t be.

  Brenda slowed and turned the truck around. She pulled the truck to the shoulder where the girl stood moments ago.

  She stepped out and started toward the woods. The pines swayed with the cool, light breeze.

  “Jennifer?”

  Something stopped her from going any farther, A voice, a sense, something greater than her capacity to comprehend. Over her shoulder, the truck suddenly felt too far away. Cracking and snapping in the woods forced her to retreat. Gooseflesh broke across the backs of her arms. The noises behind her drew closer.

  Her nerves felt ready to set fire and burst from her flesh.

  Slamming into the truck, she frantically clawed the door open, jumped inside, and slammed the lock peg down.

  Her eyes darted back and forth in the spaces between the truck and the trees.

  Nothing, but the breeze.

  Her heart pounded.

  Something was out there. She couldn’t see anyone, but she knew it as sure as she knew she wanted to chain smoke her way to Mae Davis’s place. As she pulled back onto the cracked blacktop, she made herself wait four blocks before she allowed herself another cigarette.

  What if that really was Jennifer? But why? How? What would she be doing out here, now, and why would she run?

  It wasn’t her. No way.

  “Oh, hi, Brenda isn’t it?”

  Mae Davis opened the door and gestured for her to come in.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She stopped just inside, holding her hands, willing the tremors from them.

  “Tea? Coffee? White Russian?”

  Brenda let out a small laugh. “Right now, the harder the better.”

  “All right, my kinda gal”

  Mae had graying hair, long but still full of body. Brenda watched as the older woman, she had to be in her late fifties, early sixties, practically danced on her bare ballerina feet across the kitchen floor. Her presence was at once calming. Her pale blue housecoat clung to a fit figure beneath.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  There was a faint smell she recognized as she took the closest chair. A scent more at common at a rock concert. Surely, she was mistaken. This was the home of a lawman. Mae joined her at the kitchen table, sliding a tall glass before her.

  Brenda took the cool tumbler and sipped.

  “How’d I do?”

  “It’s delicious,” she said.

  “Good.”

  She watched the woman’s smile level out. Her eyes, light blue, took on a somber gaze.

  “My husband isn’t easily shaken.” She raised her own glass and took a couple of long hauls. She wiped her mouth and continued. “These kids, the way they’re vanishing. He’s scared as hell.”

  “Our daughter, Michele, she…well, when Bret and I went to wake her. She was gone.”

  “My God,” Mae said.

  “She’s pigheaded like her father. She didn’t get taken. She snuck out. She gets an idea in her head and… she thinks…well, I don’t know what she thinks. She won’t tell me. She never tells me anything. And Lord knows, she never listens.”

  Mae reached over and placed a hand atop of hers.

  “I’m sorry, Brenda said. “That came out a little harsher than I meant.”

  “You’re scared.”

  “Yes.”

  After a few quiet seconds between them, Brenda finished her drink.

  “Have you slept?” Mae said.

  She put the empty glass down. “I managed about an hour between coming home from my sisters and Bret waking me. You?”

  “More than that.” She grabbed both glasses. “How about another?”

  “Please.”

  The second drinks were stiffer. Brenda was grateful. She hardly ever touched hard liquor. The weighty buzz coming down on her felt wonderful.

  “Listen, we have a guest room. Why don’t you try to catch a few more z’s? If Shane or your husband call, I’ll come get you.”

  “If I’m gonna be able to close my eyes, I think I might need at least one more of those.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Lying in the bed, beneath a heavy comforter and feeling the warm buzz, Brenda Cote thought of her daughter and cried. The room spiraled, coaxing her to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Side-by-side, they lined the lake. Twin sets of green lights burst forth from each of them matching his own. They were beautiful. They were many. They would become more. The time was near.

  Stepping forward, the lake water licking at his belly, the thing inhabiting Greg Hickey raised his arms, letting them morph into their true form. Dark brown tendrils weaved through the air, dipping back into the lake and out again.

  “Today, you will help to harness the remaining energy of this town. You will pass the gift as I have to each of you, until the rest are no more. Tonight, right here, we will heed her
call. We will go home.”

  The gathering nodded, each one stone-faced, hands flowing back and forth from those of humans to those not.

  “Go now, and greet anyone that you see. When one-by-one they all have become, we shall join our lady of the lake.”

  Flecks of green luminance pulsed below the surface of the dark water, growing in numbers around the boy.

  “Go.”

  His flock listened. Scattering and returning to the woods and their small town beyond.

  Hickey closed his eyes and slipped below.

  The emerald lights surrounding him followed him down.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Where are we going?” Michele said. When they came out from the Rotenberg’s she’d looked for her dad’s truck. He explained that mom had dropped him off and headed to the sheriff’s house to stay with his wife. Her father managed to bring his gun, but in his rush to find her, left his cell phone in the truck. So here they were walking out in the open begging for the Rotenberg’s to get them.

  She walked beside him keeping her hand on Alice’s back as the little girl rode piggyback.

  “Home,” he said. “We have a working phone there and it’ll give us a safe place to think.”

  “Home? Shouldn’t we go meet up with Sheriff Davis at the station?” She didn’t understand why they should waste a single precious moment. “If we take Gilbert Street, we’ll be there in–”

  Her father turned.

  “Cheli, we’re going home. I don’t know what the hell it is we’re dealing with, or what’s going on, but I know if we get back to the house, I can A) call the sheriff, B) call your mother, and C) sit down for a goddamn second to try to keep my head on straight.”

  She felt both guilt and anger. She hadn’t considered her mother. Her father said that he and the sheriff thought it’d be best for someone to go stay with his wife. Michele had been glad her mother wasn’t here, and that realization nibbled at her just a bit. As for her dad wanting to sit down and get his head on straight, first thing they should be doing was getting to the sheriff, seeing what those in charge of figuring stuff like this out knew. And the sooner, the better.

  “Be mad at me on the way, come on.”

  Without waiting, her father started away from Gilbert Street.

  “Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn,” she mumbled.

  “Says the kettle.”

  She smiled behind his back.

  It only took fifteen minutes to reach the house.

  “Aha, see that, we can take your mother’s Highlander.”

  “Okay, all right, you win,” she said, hurrying ahead of him.

  “Hold up,” he said. He jogged up next to her, and turned his back. “Take her. Let me scope it out first.”

  Alice climbed into her arms. Despite the fact that she was more than half her size, she held the girl like a baby on her hip.

  Her father pulled his gun, hunched over, and made his approach. She watched him check the first couple windows, and then enter the house. Her stomach grumbled.

  Alice looked down, then up.

  “I could use some breakfast,” Michele said. “How about you?”

  She nodded.

  “My dad makes the best French toast. Do you like French toast?”

  She gave another nod, and a shy grin.

  Her dad popped his head out the door.

  “It’s clear. Come on.”

  She set Alice down, took her by the hand, and led her to the house.

  She wanted to ask her about her dad and brother. How had she managed to escape their fate?

  Her dad was already on the phone when they entered.

  Michele squeezed Alice’s hand. The little girl gazed up at her with pale blue eyes.

  “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

  She nodded.

  “Me too. Come on, I’ll let you go first, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Her dad smiled and winked.

  …..

  Bret watched his baby lead the Rotenberg girl out of the room. For the briefest of seconds, he remembered her scream coming from the Rotenberg’s, and the dread that accompanied the gut-wrenching feeling. He closed his eyes, and mouthed a thank you to God that she was okay. Sheriff Davis’s cell went to voicemail. He was getting nothing but a busy signal from the station.

  He was sure Shane was fine. He hoped. He dialed the sheriff’s home next.

  “Hello?”

  “Mae?”

  “Yes, is this Bret?”

  “It is.”

  “Glad to hear from you. Your wife is fast asleep.”

  “And how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. About ready to drift off myself.”

  “Have you…talked to Shane?” he said.

  “No.” She got quiet. “Why, has something happened?”

  “No, no. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just get a busy signal from the station and his cell is going straight to voicemail.”

  “Oh, that old fool always forgets to charge the damn thing. Odd about the station though.”

  “I’m thinking about taking a ride over and checking it out. I won’t bother Brenda, let her rest.”

  “Of course.”

  He thanked her and told her to make sure her doors were locked up. She assured him the place was in full lock-down mode, told him to be careful, and said good-bye.

  The girls rejoined him.

  “So?” Michele said.

  “Sheriff’s cell is dead, and the station is just giving me a busy signal.”

  “We should go check it out,” Michele said.

  As much as he hated the thought of bringing them with him, the thought of leaving them to fend for themselves scared him worse.

  “Okay, but you two stay in the truck. Capisce?”

  “Capisce.”

  “Grab some snacks. I’m gonna take a leak.”

  “TMI, dad.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  He made it quick and found them in the kitchen armed with chips, granola bars, and water.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Let’s roll,” she said, and then turned to Alice. “We’ll have to take a rain check on that French toast.”

  “It’s okay. I love Doritos.”

  She took Michele’s hand.

  He grabbed Brenda’s keys from the ring rack by the door and headed out.

  Bret was psyched to see traffic on the roads, even if it was minimal. There was still life. Hallelujah! It seemed insane to consider that they were the only ones not affected by whatever was happening. Insane, but it was exactly how it felt, especially before the dawn.

  The station came up quick. He spotted the sheriff’s car, plus two other cruisers.

  “Looks like a full house,” he said, pulling in beside one of the deputy’s vehicles.

  “Stay put, okay? I still want to make sure it’s okay.”

  “Sure, but if it is okay, can you stick your head out and let us know before you get chatting with everyone?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He got out and stuck his head back in. “Lock the doors.”

  He closed the door, and the heavy click told him the locks were engaged.

  Raised voices met him as he eased the door open.

  “–don’t care. You don’t abandon your post. You don’t break contact. You sure as hell don’t act like it’s no big deal. You got that?”

  The sheriff was scolding his deputies, the young kid Horner, and Vern Crawford.

  He stopped as he noticed Bret by the door and waved him over.

  “You two look like you could use some sleep. I want you to go home, but I want both of you back here by noon. Go.”

  Without a word, both Horner and Crawford headed past Bret, neither one acknowledged him.

  “Glad to see you’re okay. I tried your phone,” Bret started.

  Shane held up his hands and shook his head.

  “You get your girl?”

  “Yeah, sh
e’s out in the truck.”

  An older gentleman with wild curly hair over his creased forehead walked out from another room.

  “That’s Crowley, our borrowed, but not for long, dispatcher. He’s also on the shit list.”

  The guy walked by expressionless. Like the other two, this guy looked completely drained of life. It had been one hell of a night.

  “Anyways, come back to my office. I had a bit of an adventure myself.”

  He started to follow, and then stopped.

  “Just a minute, I need to let the girls know everything’s good.”

  “Sure thing—wait, girls?”

  “Uh, yeah, we had some adventures, too, I guess.”

  “Hmm. Do what you gotta do, they’re welcome to wait in here, but what we’ve got to discuss is probably best just between us.”

  “Gotcha. Give me a second.”

  The girls waited in the small TV room off to the left of the dispatch desk. Bret felt a spring of unease leaving them in the vicinity of Crowley, but trusted it was just his shot nerves.

  When he entered Shane’s office, he closed the door and took a seat across from the man, then he gratefully accepted the glass of tequila the sheriff poured for him.

  “Most in my position bust out whiskey, maybe a good scotch. Me, I’ve always favored tequila.” Raising his glass, they clanked them together and downed the great devil beverage from south of the border.

  Shane raised the bottle. “Another?”

  “It’s a little early, but…”

  “I think you can handle it, besides, after what I’ve got to share, you’re gonna need it.”

  Bret let the second shot burn away his remaining doubts regarding the brevity of what was and wasn’t possible.

  Shane poured himself a third, tossed it down the hatch, wiped his mouth, and said, “Let me tell you about my last couple hours.”

  He began with his engagement with Clint Truman.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What the….” Shane said. He did his best to keep the hand on his gun steady.

  Truman’s eyes gave off an amazing green glow. It reminded him of that crystal from the first Superman movie with Christopher Reeves. Then, the light faded and he was once again looking into the kid’s atrophying features.