Then, unsurprisingly, like all great things, the dream ended.
He sat up, startled and disoriented. A fishy odor clogged his nose. Watery clicks filled his ears. He wasn’t in bed, but rather in the creek. And his leg was freezing.
Gripping the muddy bank behind him, he tugged himself backward. His leg slid from cold water to cold air. The snowy breeze burned his soaked flesh, and he grabbed a towel lying beside an LED lantern. Some weird blue fog wafted around him, but he was too busy wrapping his leg to care.
Then he noticed the weirdest thing. When he applied pressure to his calf, it felt okay. Felt tolerable.
He set the towel aside and pulled the lantern closer, illuminating his leg. He gasped. Though the scars remained, they covered the healthy bulge of his calf. Alongside it, his shin ran straight. All the other meat and muscle rested neatly under his flesh.
He couldn’t believe it.
“D-Dad?” Jake said. “You okay?”
Jake stood chest-deep in the water, gazing at Trent with wide, excited eyes. For the first time in their lives, they looked upon each other and saw healthy, unbroken beings.
Heavy with emotion, Trent crawled into the icy water. His nose ran, his throat ached. His knees touched the soggy bottom as he threw his arms around Jake and hugged tight.
His son’s little hands clutched his back. “Love you, Dad.”
“You too, champ.” The cozy embrace left him tingling all over. The warm feeling should’ve lasted forever. They deserved it. But the frosty wind had other ideas. “Damn, it’s cold. Let’s get dried off.”
Trent slid his hands under Jake’s armpits. He tried hoisting his son, but his back muscles strained. He tugged left and right until his shoulders ached, but no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t rip Jake from the water.
“I’m stuck!” Jake twisted at the waist. “My feet!”
“Your feet?”
“Get me out! It’s freezing!”
Trent reached into the frigid water, flinching at its icy bite. He grabbed Jake’s shoe. It was stuck to the creek bed as if welded there. He untied the laces and pulled on Jake’s ankle, with the same useless result.
Jake was stuck.
Heart slamming against his sternum, Trent checked around for anything that might help. All he saw were towels, the lantern, and Jake’s bat. Great, I’m on my own.
“Let him go, Snare!” Trent glared down at his reflection. “You want somebody, take me. Not him.”
Suddenly Jake cried out. He fell backward, landing with a wide-armed splash. He went under and stayed under.
“No!” Trent splashed after him. He clawed at the mucky bottom and finally caught Jake around the waist. His efforts to wrestle his son loose accomplished nothing.
Beneath the surface Jake puffed his cheeks.
“Keep holding your breath!” Trent shouted.
Something tickled Trent’s face. It breezed between his lips into his throat. His tongue moved beyond his control.
“Hi, Trent.”
Trent slapped a hand across his mouth. Those words—he hadn’t spoken them. Not by choice. Then he remembered what Ash had reported about her chats with Snare.
“Please, Snare,” Trent said. “Let him go.”
Beneath the water, bubbles floated from Jake’s sealed lips.
“I’ll do anything!” Trent pleaded. “Just let him breathe.”
The surface stirred. Trent watched it cyclone downward, creating an air pocket around Jake’s head. Water miraculously flowed around the opening without spilling through. Trent thought he was seeing things—wishful illusions, like his reflection.
Then Jake gasped.
“Dad!” Jake’s cheeks were pink with cold. He coughed as silty debris swept across his neck. “Help!”
“Let him go!” Trent reached underwater, shoving silt away. “Snare, please!”
“Leave my waters.”
Trent backed out to the bank. Frigid air chewed through his sopping clothes. Shivering, he danced in place.
“I’m out. Now let him go. Please.”
“I need a favor.”
“Fine, whatever. Just let him go.”
“After the favor.”
“For God’s sake, let him out! He’s soaking wet. He’ll freeze to death unless—”
Before Trent could finish, the moisture clinging to his body rushed down his legs and puddled at his feet. Somehow his skin and clothes were dry. Completely dry.
In the creek, the air pocket whooshed, flinging water away.
“Champ?” Trent called to his submerged son. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah. It’s weird. My whole body feels dry.” His shaky words were followed by nervous shallow breaths. “Dad, I’m scared.”
Trent glared at his reflection. “What’s the favor?”
“There are two empty water jugs hidden in the thicket nearby,” Snare said. “Fill them with bend water and take them to Mick Lapinski.”
“To Mick? What for?”
The mist left his lips.
65
Something stank like death. Cold, soggy death. The stench hit Ash like an elbow to the nose, triggering her gag reflex and disrupting the euphoric trance she’d been enjoying since her hand had reappeared. Reality wrestled her. Gutted her. She dropped flat against the steering wheel, twitching as fire reclaimed her ribs and torched her new hand.
This isn’t right. Snare had promised her a new hand and the freedom to leave the zone. Both at once. That was the deal. Yet Ash’s burning parts suggested she couldn’t leave. The cynical portion of her mind insisted she’d been double-crossed, but there could be another explanation. Maybe the burning was inevitable within the zone. Maybe it would stop once she exited the area.
Awful big maybe, though. She couldn’t risk exiting just yet. Not before she got the green light from Snare.
With great strain, Ash pushed herself upright, away from the wheel. Heat squeezed her ribs like a fiery fist. Too much, too much. She collapsed against the wheel again, and the horn uttered a weak honk.
Time passed. The stench worsened. Her stomach spun while she tried to determine the source of the odor. It had to be nearby. The heater was blasting, but she didn’t think it was the engine. The stench was more roadkill than motor oil. Toward the bottom of her windshield was a bullet hole surrounded by web-like cracks. The odor was strongest there. Whatever produced it was outside. Not the fog, which smelled like dirty rain, but something else.
Lauren moaned in the trunk. She sounded more inconsolable by the second. No telling what effects this whole trip had on her. Worse yet, the state trooper hadn’t moved since Ash whacked him with her front bumper. Whether he survived or not, she’d be facing a felony or thirty.
Ash needed to get moving. Return home. But she also needed an excuse for her law-breaking rampage. Some logical, acceptable reason for everything she’d done. A legit emergency. She supposed her sister-in-law’s vanishing eyes counted as such. Now she just needed to bullshit the nearest hospital staff.
“Lauren,” she called, “I need your help.”
The woman’s moans intensified.
Ash checked over her shoulder and noticed something strange. Beyond her rear window, snow fell, but the sky itself hung clear. Fogless. Yet ahead of her and along the side windows, the blue haze twisted. The cutoff point for the fog seemed to be the trunk—right where the zone ended. Ash wasn’t sure what to make of that.