Til Death

Chapter Fourteen

Selena

Taking Up Cross Country Running

Kyle borrowed a whiteboard on wheels and multicolored markers from Garret’s office and mapped out a plan of attack for the group and outlined a schedule. He deftly assigned tasks like a general commanding his troops. According to his calculations, and this was in his words, if we all stuck to his timetable, we’d be finished with the foundation before dinner, and done with the whole thing by late afternoon the next day. OCD much? From experience, only someone with a death wish messed with Kyle and his schedules.

Unfortunately, that evening, I must have had one, because everything went according to plan until the ticking time bomb that was me and Dillan in a room together exploded. This was one of those times I wished I had a vision. Not that I could avoid the argument, but it would have been nice to be prepared.

“We should use Popsicle sticks for the dock,” I said, heat already entering my tone.

“Toothpicks are easier to manipulate,” Dillan bit back. The sight of him glaring at me as if in challenge put my panties in a bunch.

“Popsicle sticks will make the dock look more authentic.”

“No way. Their width would look too big for the clay people we’ll add.”

“You’re just against this because I suggested it.” My voice climbed a notch. I threw down a Popsicle stick. It bounced once then rattled.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “Your freckles are clouding your judgment.”

Blood rose up my head so fast I thought it would explode. I was shaking now, my vision tunneling toward my dark-haired target.

“Guys, guys,” Kyle held up his hands, “where’s this going?”

Constance continued mixing Plaster of Paris in a tub as she said, “Calm down, you two.”

“I’m calm!” Dillan and I yelled in unison. If I went by the heat on my cheeks, my face was as red as his.

“Constance, come with me behind the whiteboard, please.” Kyle grabbed her arm. “This is about to get ugly.”

“Can’t you just do what I say?” I narrowed my gaze at Dillan.

He smirked. “What happened to compromise? You know the meaning of that word, don’t you? Or should I get a dictionary?”

I let out a keening growl and threw the tub of glue at him without thinking twice about it. The jerk had it coming. Too bad he sidestepped just in time. The tub sailed past his head, bouncing off the whiteboard and twirling to a stop on the floor. It scattered gooey white glop everywhere. I scowled in disappointment. The thud made Kyle and Constance peek out from either side of the board like prairie dogs.

After what seemed like the stare down of the century, Dillan left the living room through the way we’d come in. Not wanting to follow him, I escaped through the terrace doors, slamming them behind me.

My fingers clenched into fists while my lips disappeared into a tight line. Dillan brought out the worst in me. And I hated him for it. The jerk. I didn’t deserve his attitude problem. I ran until the stone banister stopped me. I spread my hands on the rough stone and breathed in. Standing on tiptoe, I let the crisp night air clear my head of the urge to commit murder and plead temporary insanity.

Nothing bothered me the way Dillan did. I couldn’t stand being emotional over something so petty. But right then, being petty was all I felt. I’d thrown glue at his head like a second grader. I closed my eyes and groaned.

“I can ask him to leave if you want.”

The statement startled me more than the voice that said it. I didn’t turn around. Kyle came forward until he reached the terrace’s long, thick banister. He placed his hands on the rough stone. Our pinkies touched. Such a small gesture, but it brought a crashing wave of comfort. I hardly remembered my life before Kyle became one of my best friends. He helped hold my world together. Just like he did tonight.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I kneaded my forehead. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s called puberty.”

“This is different. I’m not being hormonal.”

“Of course not.” He looked up at the sky already filled with stars.

I wanted to smack him, but I let my hands fall to my sides instead. I’d had too many violent tendencies for one day. I distracted myself by staring at my ratty sneakers. I needed to buy new ones soon.

“You like him.”

My heart leapt into my throat and beat there for several seconds before it tumbled into my belly. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Kyle sounded like he believed what he’d said. Me? Like Dillan? The idea was certifiable.

“You didn’t just say that.” I stared at him, shocked.

“Oh, c’mon. Just admit it.” He reached for my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” I backed away slowly. “You can’t just come out here and suggest I like that overbearingly arrogant guy and think I’d agree with you.” My voice turned shrill. “That jerk’s done nothing but annoy the hell out of me.” My breathing came in and out hard. Without hesitation, and before I did something I’d surely regret, I turned sharply and walked away.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he asked, concern in his voice, but I didn’t turn around.

“I’m taking the path to the river. And this time, I want to be alone.” About halfway down the stone steps connecting the terrace to the garden, I whirled around and pointed a finger at him. “Kyle Hilliard, if you follow me, I swear to God, I’m taking this violent streak Dillan brings out in me and punching you in the face with it.”

“You’re overreacting!”

With quick, determined strides, I left the sweet scents of the garden and walked into the freshness of the forest, using the gravel path on the east side. The white stones caught the slivers of moonlight. It looked like a winding albino snake through the trees. It would lead to a bridge over a small river. I knew the path by heart and could walk it blindfolded.

An owl screeched in the distance, making me want to screech, too. I settled for a mumbled curse. I didn’t think it was possible, but I was even angrier now than before we got to Valley View. Stupid Kyle! I kicked at the gravel, sending pebbles flying.

A soft thump came from my right.

I froze and waited, breathing heavily.

Another thump.

This would be the point where the audience would scream at me to run back to the house. But, like in horror movies, the heroine—i.e. me—moved to investigate. My foot nudged a stick as thick as a bat. I picked it up and copied a batter’s pose, waiting for the pitch. I imagined the ball as Dillan’s head and took a swing. Homerun!

Another soft thump came from behind a cedar. I swallowed. My breathing sped up. The cold air chilled my lungs.

Away from the glowing path, the shadows grew darker. I squinted as I neared the tree. Rustling noises followed another thump. I sidestepped and raised the stick above my head, yelling “Yah.” The creature gave a startled squeak and dropped the rock it held.

A moonbeam punched through the thick canopy, revealing a raccoon. Its face, hidden behind a black burglar mask of fur, looked startled, hands in the air. It sniffed nervously. Its bushy tail—ringed black and white—twitched.

“Oh, hey there, little guy.” I still had the stick ready for a swing. The raccoon eyed me, and I glanced up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I threw the stick away.

It watched me for another second before scampering back to the cedar tree.

“Enjoy your dinner.” I returned to the path.

My stomach grumbled. If I hadn’t let my annoyance with Dillan get out of control, I wouldn’t have stormed out before dinner. Now, I was really hungry.

“Jerk.”

A soft breeze rustled the pines and cedars. I didn’t need a mirror to see what thinking of Dillan did to my face. The blush horrified me. I so didn’t like him.

I picked up several pebbles and stepped onto the bridge. The running water reflected the stars and the moon. Soft waves dispersed the light, turning the river into liquid mercury. The woods stretch on along the bank until darkness swallowed the rest of the faint moonlight.

My heart sank like the small pebbles I flicked into the river. Soon, I threw pebbles further and further away, using all my strength. When the last pebble joined the others at the bottom of the river, I tried pacing away my pent up irritation. Muttering under my breath about not liking him, I brought myself to a boil that resulted in me kicking the railing of the bridge as hard as I could. The brilliant idea shot pain up from my toes to my thigh.

“Shit, shitty, shit, shit!”

The night air suddenly grew colder. I momentarily forgot the pain in my leg and regretted not wearing something warmer than a T-shirt and jeans.

A twig snapped.

“I thought I told you not to follow me.” I stared at the dark outline of someone standing in the shadows at the other side of the bridge.

“Are you that hungry for a black eye, Kyle?” Not really meaning what I’d said, I took a step toward him. “Look, I’m not angry anymore, but we need to talk about this. You have to explain why you think I like—”

A groan escaped the shadow, stopping me mid-step.

“Kyle?” I craned my neck, trying to get a better look. “Kyle, you hurt?”

The groan came again, ending in a gurgle.

Another twig snapped.

I stayed in place. Something about the way the shadow moved didn’t seem right. A lurch or a drag instead of a regular step forward.

“Kyle?” A shiver crawled up my spine like a long centipede with a hundred freezing feet.

The shadow groaned and stretched out its arms, lumbering out of the gloom in stages. Torn and cracked nails came at me first, attached to bone-thin fingers with pruned skin. The flesh had a sickly gray tint. What used to be a man wore a tattered blue suit. Only clumps of hair remained, and half its face sagged. The other half shredded. Several teeth were missing inside a gapping mouth. A maggot wriggled at the side of its lips. My eyes reached its feet—only one foot rested in a black leather shoe. The other a stump. The smell of dirt and rotted flesh overwhelmed the freshness of the pines. My hands shook. Where was that stick? A scream slowly built its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t risk drawing Kyle or anyone else to me.

My vision from last night came to mind. Was this it?

The corpse limped closer, groaning as if in terrible pain. Before I could fully make the connection between my vision and the situation, I noticed four more shadows behind the creature edged toward the bridge.

If I had to die tonight, then I’d do it protecting my friends. In a sudden burst of adrenaline, I turned around and ran. The harsh thumping, rattling, and scraping spurred me forward. My breath came out in misty puffs. The cold air froze my lungs.

Drawing them away from the house, I strayed from the path and weaved through the forest. Wild grunts and pained groans trailed behind me. I could almost feel the rancid breath of the corpses on my neck.

Don’t look back! Don’t look back!

I regretted not listening to the voice in my head. The five creatures ate up ground like cross-country runners with hands stretched out, groping at the space in front of them. Not paying attention to where I was going, I tripped and fell hard on my left knee. Pain sent dark spots popping in front of my eyes. I cried out and rolled onto my back. My self-preservation instincts kicked in, and I used my hands to push myself up into a sitting position, sending renewed pain into my joints.

My new position gave me a perfect view of the corpses—all five of them. The group stood a few feet away, watching and groaning, hands at their sides. Jaw tight, I nudged myself backward.

For every pull I made, the corpses took a step forward, as if invisible strings attached them to me. I backed away until the rough bark of a tree scraped against my arms. The corpses stopped and tilted their heads again.

Beside the man in the suit, a woman with long hair and a maggot-eaten, pale pink dress swayed. She didn’t have cheeks anymore. To the left of the man, a teenage boy groaned, all baby-faced and fresh, until my eyes wandered to the gaping hole of his stomach—collapsed from rotting inside out.

My own stomach clenched. Dry heaves shook my body. Bitterness coated my tongue.

The three in front obscured a couple more behind them. The man’s face had melted off at some point, leaving a slimy skull. The old woman had flaking skin and stumps for arms. Her hips bent at an odd angle. Like her spine had snapped.

They all watched me with cloudy eyes.

The head corpse, the one in the tattered, blue suit, groaned and raised its arms again.

Dropping my hands to my sides, I patted around for a weapon. There had to be one somewhere. Just as I lost hope, my hand closed around the roughness of another stick. Not as thick as the one I’d thrown away, but it would have to do.

“Yes!” I pointed it at the corpses. “Oh, it’s on!”