As his eyes closed against his will, Christopher had déjà vu about the tree. Like he’d slept here before. He thought he could feel his mother’s hand touching his hair like she did sometimes when he had a fever. But his mother wasn’t here. There were only the tree branches. And tree branches didn’t move enough to rub people’s hair.
And they certainly didn’t feel like flesh.
Chapter 25
christopher. wake up.
Christopher opened his eyes. He looked down at the white plastic bag, crinkling in the breeze.
hi.
He was so happy that the nice man was back, but he didn’t dare say anything. He didn’t want his friends to think he was crazy.
don’t worry. your friends are asleep. they can’t hear us.
Christopher looked down at the clearing. He saw his friends curled up on the ground.
“Where have you been?” Christopher whispered.
i’ve been right here watching you. you are doing such a great job.
“Thank you,” Christopher said.
are you tired or can you keep building?
Christopher looked down at his phone. He had been asleep for only ten minutes, but somehow he felt like he’d just slept in on a Sunday. His muscles were sore and strong. But for some strange reason, he wasn’t tired.
“I can keep building,” Christopher said cheerfully.
great. let’s go to the woodpile. stock up for tomorrow.
Christopher climbed down the 2x4s like baby teeth. Then, he grabbed a skinny stick and scooped up the white plastic bag.
Christopher and the nice man left the clearing together.
Christopher had made this trip to the woodpile dozens of times by now. But something was different. Something was wrong. He felt eyes on him. The whites of deer’s eyes. And little creatures. The twigs cracked under his feet like brittle bones. And he thought he could hear breathing behind him. Like the times he played hide-and-seek and tried to make himself not breathe too loud. He thought someone was near him. Shallow breath. A little kid’s breath.
He remembered a little kid’s hand.
A little kid giggling.
Was that a dream? Or was it real?
i found a shortcut. turn here.
Christopher followed the white plastic bag. He stepped over logs and tripped on a branch. He turned the flashlight deep into the woods and thought the branches were two arms coming to strangle him. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t dare. The nice man had warned him about this feeling. When the wind didn’t feel like the wind, you had to be extra careful.
especially when it feels like someone’s breath.
“Chrissssstopher?” the wind kissed behind him.
He felt it on his neck. He wanted to turn around. But he knew he couldn’t. If he did, he was afraid he could turn into a pillar of salt. Or stone. Or all the bad things Father Tom and Mrs. Radcliffe talked about in church and CCD. A snake. A little kid.
“Hisssss,” the wind kissed behind him.
Christopher broke into a sprint to the Collins Construction site. He saw the streetlight up ahead. Tall and blue. He ran with all his might and just as the kissing hissing found the back of his neck, he burst out of the woods…
…and onto the street.
He looked back. He saw nothing but trees. No eyes. No bodies. His mind must have been playing tricks. Or not.
“What was that?” he asked the nice man.
we need to hurry.
Christopher went to the woodpile. Luckily, the security guard was asleep in the foreman’s trailer. Christopher took the longest 2x4 he could find and dragged it off the top. The wood fell with a splat on the ground. Christopher saw the security guard shift in his chair, but he didn’t wake up. He was just talking in his sleep like Jerry used to after he drank too much.
“Christopher?” the man said in his sleep.
The hair stood up on the back of Christopher’s neck. He saw the man’s eyes twitch under his lids like he was dreaming.
“What are you doing with the wood?” the guard whispered.
Christopher started to back away.
“What are you doing out there?” the guard whispered in his sleep.
Christopher tiptoed back into the woods. He grabbed the long piece of wood and dragged it back under the cover of darkness.
“You really shouldn’t be out here,” the guard whispered. “Or else you’re going to end up just like him.”
Christopher felt his heart in his throat.
oh, god.
The nice man sounded terrified.
stand still. don’t move.
The guard rose and began to sleepwalk.
“Just like him, Chrissstopher,” the guard hissed.
don’t speak. it’ll be over soon.
The guard walked right toward Christopher. Sniffing the air. He stopped right in front of Christopher and dropped to his knees. He opened his eyelids, but his eyes had rolled back into his head. There were no pupils. Just white like a cue ball.
Or a cloud.
“JUST LIKE THE BABY!” the guard screamed. “WAAAAAAAAAA!”
With that, the guard closed his eyes and walked back to the trailer.
pick up the wood. hurry.
Christopher bolted like a colt. He dragged the long piece of wood back under the trees all the way down the path. When they were finally safe in the clearing, he turned to the white plastic bag.
“What was that?”
The nice man was silent.
“What did he mean when he said ‘You’re going to end up just like him’?”
i don’t know.
“Yes you do. I’m going to end up just like the baby. What does that mean?”
please, christopher. don’t ask me that.
“Tell me,” Christopher hissed. “Or I’ll stop working.”
The white plastic bag floated in the wind on the stick in his hand. There was a long silence. And then, a sad, resigned voice.
i can’t tell you. but i can show you. just remember…
we can swallow our fear or let our fear swallow us
Chapter 26
What was that sound?
Matt sat up. He turned. He was in the sleeping bag. Rolled up like a man in a hollow log. His hand instinctively found his forehead, which was covered in sweat.
From the nightmare.
He was stuck to the ground like flypaper. The street turned to quicksand. He couldn’t stand or run. He just kept drowning in the street. The sand coating his lungs.
Screaming as his brother died.
Matt stuck his head out of the sleeping bag and looked up at the stars. The blue moon lit the clearing like a lantern. As bright as a sun dying in the sky. There was a deer looking at him. Matt bolted up. The deer startled and ran toward the old mine tunnel, which looked like a giant’s mouth, swallowing the animal whole.
Matt stepped out of the sleeping bag, and the freezing November air hit his pants. That’s when he felt it. The wet spot. He had wet the bed again. And this time, he didn’t do it at home. He did it on a sleepover in front of his friends. Like a baby, he thought. Like a stupid baby.
Mike was going to tease him forever for this.
Panicked, he looked over at the wheelbarrow near the tree. He thought maybe if he could get to his backpack, he could put on the extra thermals before Mike woke up. He moved to the tree, avoiding every twig that might crack. He tiptoed past his brother sleeping soundly and grabbed his backpack. He moved away from Mike. Back toward the tunnel. With each step, he got closer until his eyes caught something in the moonlight. A figure huddled in the shadows. Digging in the dirt.