Angelfall

CHAPTER 22

I can’t help but look to see if there’s anything I need to worry about sneaking up behind me. Not that a monster capable of tearing apart armed soldiers would bother sneaking. I wonder why we didn’t evolve with eyes in the back of our heads?

The farther I walk into the woods, the tighter the darkness closes in on me. I tell myself that this isn’t really suicide. The woods are full of living creatures—squirrels, birds, deer, rabbits—and the monster can’t kill them all. So my chance of being among the majority of living things in the forest that will survive tonight are pretty good. Right?

I move through the dark woods by instinct, hoping I’m heading north. Within a short time, I begin to have serious doubts about which direction I’m moving. I read somewhere that when lost and left to their own devices, people tend to walk in large circles. What if I’m walking the wrong way?

Doubts erode my reason and I can feel the panic bubbling in my chest.

I give myself a mental slap. This is not the time to panic. I promise I’ll let myself panic when I’m safe and sound, hidden in a nice house with a stocked kitchen with Paige and Mom.

Yeah, right. The thought brings a twitch to my lips as if I might grin. Maybe I really am losing it.

I see menace behind every rustle and shifting shadow, behind every bird taking flight and squirrel scrambling on a branch.

After what feels like hours of trekking through the woods in the dark, one of the shadows shifts from a tree like so many wind-blown branches. Only this one keeps moving away from the tree. It separates itself from the larger mass of shadows, then merges into another, greater darkness.

I freeze.

It could have been a deer. But the shadow legs didn’t move right. It might have been something on two feet. Or more accurately, several somethings on two feet.

My hunch proves right when the shadows fan out, surrounding me. I hate being right all the time.

So, what stands on two legs, is three or four feet tall, and growls like a pack of dogs? It’s hard to think of much other than those bodies scattered about the forest floor with missing parts.

A shadow rushes toward me so fast it looks like a dark blur. Something bumps into my arm. I step back, but whatever bumped my arm is already long gone.

The other shadows shift. Some dart forward and back, looking like shadows beginning to boil. Something bumps my other arm before I register that another shadow has darted out.

I stagger back.

Our neighbor Justin used to have a set of needle-like piranha teeth displayed on his mantel. He told us once that the carnivorous and sometimes cannibalistic fish are actually quite shy and usually bump their prey before attacking, gaining confidence as their schoolmates do the same. This feels eerily like his description.

The chorus of growling rises. It sounds like a mix of animal growls and disturbingly human grunting.

Another hit. This time, a sharp pain stabs up from my thigh, like I’d been sliced by razors. I shiver as a warm pool spreads around the pain.

Then I get bumped twice more in rapid succession. Is the blood whipping them into a frenzy?

Another hits my wrist. I cry out this time as soon as I feel it.

This one isn’t just a quick slice. It’s a lingering one, if a flashing shadow can be said to linger. The burning hits me a second after I realize I’ve been—bitten? I’m sure I’d be less scared if I could just see what they look like. There’s something particularly terrifying about not being able to see the things attacking you.

My panting is so loud now that I might as well be screaming.