The Calling

TWENTY-SEVEN

I’D SUGGESTED TAKING a look out the front, then have one of us zip across the street. With only four houses in the court, there wasn’t much chance of us being spotted.

They elected the girl with the super-hearing as scout. The others would stand watch and Daniel would whistle if they saw anyone.

I stepped out the front door. The court was eerily quiet. I paused in the shadows of the porch and listened. The harsh jeer of a Steller’s jay shattered the silence. Then I picked up the rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker. Otherwise … nothing. Just the wind whistling softly, branches creaking.

I rubbed the back of my neck and made a face. So what if it was quiet? We didn’t live in the city. Salmon Creek had just lost its mayor and seven teens. It was a town in mourning.

I looked across at Hayley’s house. The windows were dark. I scanned the other houses in the court. All the windows were dark.

It was afternoon. The sun was shining. No need for lights.

Something moved in the Morrises’ second-story window. I jumped. Then I saw a flash of orange. Hayley’s cat had jumped onto the ledge.

I let out a sigh of relief, then dashed across the road.

I went in through the side garage door, which Corey said was always open. Ms. Morris’s car was parked inside. I hurried to the house door and knocked.

No one answered. I knocked again, then tried the knob. The door was locked. Not surprisingly, Corey also knew where they kept the key.

I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and called, “Hello?”

Silence.

“It’s, uh, Maya,” I said. “Maya Delaney.” Like they’d need a last name.

No one answered.

I walked down the hall. The house was as silent as the court outside. Dark and still. A sour smell permeated the hall, and when I peeked into the dining room, there was a glass of milk left on the table, beside a folded newspaper. I took another step and a squeak stopped me short. A mouse sat on the table, hunched over a partially eaten cookie. It squeaked at me again, then scampered away.

I backed out of the dining room and hurried to the stairs. As soon as I got to the bottom, I smelled cat urine. I raced up the steps. The door to Hayley’s room was open. Her cat still perched on the windowsill, and he hissed and spat when he saw me.

Fear and panic hit me like a fist to the gut. The cat’s fear and panic.

The room went dark. Then it flashed to life, and I was on the floor, racing from room to room, fear coursing through me, looking for someone, anyone. But every room was empty and all I could smell was smoke, drifting through the open windows. Smoke everywhere and my people gone.

I surfaced from the cat’s memories. He was still on the windowsill, hissing.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay.”

Before I could try to calm him, he sprang. I leaped out of the way. He tore off down the stairs. I got to the kitchen just in time to see a cat door swinging closed behind him. I ran to the door and yanked it open. An orange blur flew into the underbrush and was gone.

I stood there, heart racing as I stared after the cat. I could still feel his terror. When it finally subsided, I stepped back inside, closed the door, and leaned against it.

They were gone. The Morrises had evacuated and hadn’t come back. Hayley’s cat must have been outside at the time and they couldn’t find him. No one had been home since.

Okay, so the families who had lost kids hadn’t returned after the evacuation. I guess that made sense. It had only been three days. There would be funerals to plan.

Funerals to plan. Oh God, my parents. Had they already held the service? Picked out a tombstone to mark an empty grave?

I couldn’t think about that. They’d know the truth soon enough. We just needed to speak to someone who had come back.

I ran back to Corey’s.

“They’re gone, aren’t they?” Sam said as I came in. She was standing by the front window with Corey. Daniel had met me at the door and ushered me inside.

I nodded. “It doesn’t look as if they’ve been back since the fire. I guess they’re staying somewhere else for a while.”

“I don’t think it’s for a while,” Sam said. “We just saw two moving trucks.”

The trucks—one behind the other—had driven along the street past the end of the court. Corey, Daniel, and I went out to check the other houses in the court. I looked in on Kenjii first, but left her in the garage for now. We jogged over to the Morrises’ house, then through the woods to another court behind it. The Hajeks’ house was there. All the windows were dark. We cut across the backyard to the deck and peered through the patio doors.

As still and silent as the Morrises’ house. There was no need for a key here—they’d left the patio doors unlocked.

We stepped into the kitchen. A hush fell around us and we found ourselves creeping forward, as if one squeaky shoe might disturb resting spirits. That’s what it felt like, too. Stepping into a mausoleum. Dust motes floated past. The stillness enveloped us as we walked into the living room. We stopped and stared.

Every piece of furniture was gone, only bright, clean squares on the carpet where they’d been, like a blueprint for an unfinished room. We backed into the kitchen and went through to the dining room. Empty. Bare wires hung from the ceiling, where a chandelier had been.

“Okay,” Corey whispered. “I’m officially creeped out.”

Daniel and I didn’t say a word. As if by mutual agreement, we all went outside and crossed to the next house. The Tafts were an older couple whose kids went off to college years ago. I only saw them at town parties, where they always brought homemade fudge. They gave out caramel apples for Halloween, and Serena and I used to sneak back for seconds, as if they wouldn’t recognize us. They never said anything, though, just played along and gave us another. Sometimes two.

The Tafts worked at the lab. Both of them. That meant they must have worked on the experiment. But I couldn’t reconcile that with the nice couple who made fudge and gave out caramel apples.

There was no car in the drive. No lights on in the house. That same hush seemed to seep from the very walls as we snuck up to the glass French doors. We peered into the living room. Empty.

Corey was flying off the porch before we knew it. We went after him, and caught up as he stepped from the forest onto the north end of the road that turned into Main Street.

Daniel grabbed his arm, but Corey shook him off, hissing, “There’s no one here.”

“But there might be—”

Corey spun on him. “There’s no one here. Don’t you get it? No one is here.”

When Daniel tried to take his arm again, Corey shoved him, hard, and strode to the top of Main Street. We joined him and the three of us stood there, looking down the road.

It was completely empty. Not a car, not a person, not even a bird perched on the wires.

Not just empty. Desolate.

The wind whistled down the street, making the awnings over the shops flap and groan. A paper whipped against my feet and I grabbed it. A spelling test from one of the primary students, big block printing and bright happy-face stars. I looked at the name. Stacey. One of the grade two students. I’d coached her in track last year.

“Everyone’s gone,” Corey whispered. “They just … left.”

A sudden snarl made us jump. A dog tumbled out from between two buildings. Another leaped on it, snapping and snarling. Wild dogs. They’d always been in the woods—dogs gone feral—but Dad kept them out of the park and the town. More dangerous than a bear or a cougar, he said, because they weren’t wary of humans.

The dogs stopped fighting and plunged back into the alley. They came out again, growling. One had something in its mouth and the other was trying to snatch it away. Something with long white fur.

There were no animals here with long white fur. No wild ones, that is.

Oh God.

I thought of the Moores’ Pomeranian. Merrie Grant’s white angora rabbit. Mrs. Tillson’s Persian cat. I stared at the shapeless piece of white fur being pulled between the dogs. Bloody white fur.

Daniel grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.

A snarl, louder now, and I glanced over to see the dogs watching us. Two more came running from between the buildings.

“Holy hell,” Corey whispered.

“Can we go now?” Daniel said.

Corey nodded and turned to run, but Daniel stopped him.

“Slowly,” I said. “Don’t turn your back on them. Canines are all about dominance. You run, they’ll chase. Back away slowly. Stay together.”

We did that. One of the dogs started toward us. Another took a tentative step.

“And if they attack anyway?” Corey whispered.

“Then we run.”

The two dogs took a few more steps our way. Then the smallest one dove for the bloody bundle of fur, snatched it up, and raced off. The other three tore after it. We breathed sighs of relief and hightailed it back to Corey’s house.

After we told Sam what we’d found, Daniel said, “They’re clearing out the town.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

“Doesn’t it?” I said. “The Nasts know about the experiment, so Salmon Creek isn’t a secret anymore. Between the fire and the crash, the St. Clouds have an excuse for pulling up stakes.”

“So now what?” Corey said. “No one’s here. We have no idea where anyone went. We’re just as screwed as we were this morning.”

I shook my head. “We have food, water, and transportation. That’s a lot more than we had this morning. All we need is a way to track down our parents. We might find that at my place—we have shortwave radios.”

It was just the excuse I’d been waiting for. With every step we’d taken, I ached to go home, but there was still the risk of getting there, and I hadn’t dared without a good reason.

“We might not need to go all that way,” Sam said. “If we can get to my place, my cell phone’s there.”

“You have a cell phone?” Corey said.

“Every teen has a cell phone. Or so my aunt and”—her voice caught—“uncle thought. I told them I didn’t have anyone to call, but I think they figured that would change if I had one. It’s in my room.”

Daniel’s hand went to the small of my back as he leaned down. “We’ll get the phone, then we’re going to your place. I promise.”

I nodded. We got Kenjii and headed out.