Transcription (31 page)

Bo turned down one corner of his mouth and then raised his hand to join her.

They stood up as one and moved towards the door. They shied away from the window, even though the curtains shielded them.

“Head for the back side of the stacked wood and stay low. If they have someone positioned at the car, I’ll take care of him,” Chloe said, gesturing with the shotgun.

BANG. BANG.

They turned. Someone was banging at the back door.

“Let’s go,” Chloe said.

“Wait,” Danielle said. She began to walk towards the kitchen, where the banging came from.

“No,” Chloe said. “We’re going right now.”

She pulled open the front door. Bo slipped through the gap and hunched over as he ran down the porch towards the wood pile. He skidded to a stop when an arrow planted in the side of the cabin, just in front of him. Another arrow whizzed by his head as he scrambled backwards. He ran into Chloe, who was right on his heels.

An arrow hit the door and clattered to the porch.
 

Chloe kicked it as she raced for the door. They ducked back through and slammed it shut just as another arrow hit. Chloe and Bo pressed their backs to the door. Bo reached up and locked it.

James came around the corner from the kitchen. Chloe leveled the shotgun and pulled the trigger. It didn’t move. The safety was engaged.

“Wait! Wait!” Danielle said. She slipped around James and got between him and the weapon.

Chloe looked at the switch to figure out how to engage the shotgun. Her face lit up when she found the lever. She raised the gun.

“Hold on,” Danielle said.
 

“Yeah,” Bo said. “I vote we not shoot him yet. Let’s find out why he came back.”

“You guys are going to get us killed,” Chloe said. “This is all his fault. Every bit of it.”

“That’s fine,” Danielle said. “That doesn’t mean he won’t be useful in figuring out how we can live through it.”

James nodded. “I know who’s shooting the arrows.”

“You’re probably working with them,” Chloe said. “You led them here to kill us.”

“Chloe!” Bo said. “Listen to what you’re saying. James didn’t know about your cabin before yesterday. How could he have led anyone here?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She furrowed her brow. “It’s suspicious.”

“Tell us what you know, James,” Bo said. “Quickly.”

James nodded. “Those are kids. One kid is their leader. He convinces the rest that their parents aren’t being fair because the kids are punished. The leader rallies all the kids and convinces them they should go live in the forest. Everything is fine until they run out of food and begin attacking houses on the perimeter of the woods.”

“How do you know about this?” Chloe asked.

“It was one of the stories. I copied it a few weeks ago. It must have burned up and the smoke affected those kids out there.”

“How did they get all the way out here?” Chloe asked.

James shrugged. “I don’t know. The wind might have carried the smoke for a while. I don’t know what the range of its influence might be.”

From outside, they heard a yell, something bang on the side of the cabin, and then more laughter.

“What happens to the kids in the story?” Danielle asked.

James shifted his eyes up and away as he recalled. “I think they begin attacking people who live in remote houses. They terrorize a few residents and scare them away. Then, at some point, they decide to start killing adults.”

“Killing them?” Danielle asked.

“Yeah,” James said. “They’re playing Cowboys and Indians, without the cowboys.”

“Great,” Chloe said.

“The leader is the dangerous one. He’s the first one to kill anyone, and he sets the tone of the rest of the group. If he hasn’t killed anyone yet, there’s a chance we could beat them without losing any of us,” James said.

“We haven’t seen any of them,” Chloe said. “How are we supposed to beat the leader? If we go outside, they’ll plug us with arrows.”

“They’re just kids,” James said. “They can be tricked and outsmarted.”

“They can also be infinitely cruel without realizing the consequences,” Bo said. “They may not have a firm grip on morality.”

“Kids know empathy,” Danielle said. “Unless they’re sick.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” James said. “These kids are dangerous as hell, but that doesn’t mean that they geniuses. Whatever morality or empathy they had disappeared when they took in that story. So don’t expect them to shy away from bloodshed or show us any mercy.”

“What do you suggest?” Danielle asked.

“Their leader will be the boldest. He or she will take the most chances,” James said. “Chloe, you’re going to stay right over here.”

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At James’s signal, they began to scream. Danielle was pretty good at it. Her last screamed trailed off, like her life was fading. James burst through the front door with his knife held high. His clothes were stained with beet juice. It didn’t look exactly like blood, but he didn’t think the kids would know the difference.

When he was sure their eyes were on him, he strode out into the yard.

“I’ll kill every last one of you,” he screamed. “I know what you kids have done, but I’ve done things a million times worse.”

He saw the first arrow coming. They’d shot at him when he ran towards the house earlier. Most of the arrows didn’t have much power behind them. The kids weren’t strong enough to shoot with any real power or accuracy.
 

James dodged the first one instinctively. It was difficult, but he wanted to hold still and let one hit his arm, or maybe lower leg. The next arrow he saw didn’t even reach him. Somewhere in the woods, a kid laughed, and another child yelled. James didn’t see the arrow that hit his shoulder. He felt the pain—no worse than getting a tetanus shot—and he turned to run. He exaggerated his injury, letting his arm flop at his side and reaching up with his other hand. The arrow was hanging from his shirt. It worked its way loose from his skin after a few strides.

The worst of it was when he ducked back through the door of the cabin. The shaft of the arrow hit the doorframe and it stabbed a fresh wound into his arm.

“Shit!” he said.

Chloe held her position.

James turned.

He heard feet sprinting across the yard and the boy appeared in the doorway. He was a teenager. He didn’t look old enough to drive. His outfit looked like some kid’s strange idea of what a Native American would wear. He had on a leather vest and jeans, cutoff mid-calf. Arrows, stuck through the back of the vest, formed an X. He wore a bandana as a headband and had black grease under his eyes. The boy held a knife in each hand.

James pulled the arrow from his shirt and threw it to the side.

The kid saw him and growled through bared teeth.

When the kid began to run at James, Chloe stood up with the shotgun.

“Hold it,” she said.

The boy stopped and turned to her, surprised.

“Stay right there, or I’ll paint the wall with you,” Chloe said. She took a step forward. “Drop the knives.”

The boy looked down at his hands, and James wished she hadn’t mentioned the knives. For a second, it seemed like he was going to surrender, but when he looked down at the knives, he seemed to remember what he was there for.

The boy raised the blades and ran towards Chloe.

James sprinted forward, to intercept the boy before he could impale Chloe with his shiny knives.

BANG!

The sound of the shotgun dulled all of James’s senses. The sound overloaded his brain. But it worked. The boy stopped. He still held the knives, but his hands lowered down to his sides.

“Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus,” Chloe said.

James barely heard her. His ears were still ringing and it sounded like she was speaking on the other side of a wall.
 

Danielle came from the kitchen. She had a knife of her own. Hers was a generic kitchen knife though, not a deadly-looking hunting blade like the ones the boy held. “What happened?” Danielle asked.

Chloe had aimed the shotgun over the boy’s head, just to frighten him. There was a cloud of little holes in the ceiling to prove it. Drywall dust swirled down from those holes.

The boy swayed on his feet and then began a slow descent as his knees gave out. As his knees hit the floor, the knives tumbled from his limp hands. He slumped backwards and flopped to his back. James saw a thin line of blood trickling from the boy’s right eye. It looked like a bloody tear streaking down his face.

“No. No!” Chloe said.
 

She dropped the gun and ran to him.
 

“Chloe, wait,” Danielle said. She raced to intercept her friend. Danielle still held her knife at the ready, in case the whole thing was a trick. She slowed as she saw the blood.

“What’s happening?” Bo shouted from the kitchen. His job was to guard the back door.

“There’s been an accident,” Danielle said.

James stepped around Danielle and gently laid a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. She was shaking the boy’s shoulders, imploring him to get up.

Chloe turned to James. “It was supposed to scare him. It was just supposed to scare him.”

“He would have killed you,” James said. He checked for a pulse and then laid his head to the boy’s chest. Nothing. “We have to press on, Chloe, in case the rest attack.”

He gently nudged her aside with his shoulder as he reached under the boy to gather him up.

“No,” Chloe said. “I just wanted to scare him.” She sank back and sat on her heels. Danielle put her arms around Chloe’s shoulders.

James lifted the boy and then gripped him under the armpits. He was heavy, but manageable. He carried the body to the doorway and out onto the porch.

James shouted towards the woods. “You kids go home now. Do you see what happened? Go home.”

An arrow, shot with very little force, hit the lawn and tumbled to a stop a few feet away from James.

“We didn’t want to do it, but you gave us no choice. Now go home before anyone else gets hurt.”

He heard Chloe’s sobs behind him and hoped the kids didn’t hear. He wanted their position to be one of strength.

Out in the woods, one of the children voiced a high, lonesome battle cry. By the end, it sounded almost like a coyote howl. James stood there a few seconds longer. His arms burned and shook under the weight of the boy. When he couldn’t hold him up any longer, he backed up, lowering the boy to the porch. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps. He didn’t see anyone, but heard their running retreat through the woods. James left the boy on the porch and backed into the cabin.
 

Bo had joined the women in the living room. He and Danielle were crouched around Chloe.

“You couldn’t help it,” James said. He looked at the ceiling. The pattern of pellets was tight. It was a terrible miracle that one had strayed from the grouping and taken out the boy. “It was an awful accident.”

“Yeah,” Bo said. He was rubbing Chloe’s back. “Blame the circumstances. It’s not your fault.”

“And make no mistake,” James said. “He would have killed you.”

“I should have let him kill
you
,” Chloe shouted at James. Her tear-streaked face was defiant as she looked up at him.

James rolled his eyes. “The shot could bring unwanted attention,” James said. “We better prepare ourselves for more company.”

“More?” Danielle asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. You think there are more people out there?”

“I’ve seen them,” James said. “There’s a hunting party in the woods. Most of them think that they’re here to get some deer so they can feed their families. One of the hunters is insane and will kill the others.”

“Wait, what’s this?” Bo asked. “Where did these people come from, and how do you know them?”

“I don’t,” James said. “They’re from another story. The wild kids were from one, and the hunters were from another. This is what happens when a whole bunch of stories get turned loose on the population. That’s why I didn’t want the apartment to burn.”

“Wait,” Chloe said, scrubbing the tears from her face, “maybe he’s not dead. Maybe I made a mistake.” She pushed Danielle away as she got to her feet. “I probably made a mistake.” She began to stumble towards the door. She stopped when James spoke.

“I’m sorry, Chloe, but he’s dead,” James said. “We don’t have time for this. The hunters are out there somewhere, and they’re probably headed this direction.”

“Who are they?” Bo asked. “You still haven’t told us who they are.”

“I don’t know!” James shouted. “But they’re out there in the damn woods, they’re armed, and one of them is very, very dangerous.”

“This is crazy,” Danielle said. She walked to the door. She glanced out towards the woods and closed the door.
 

“We’ll head for the car. Let’s just run to the car and get the hell out of here,” Bo said.

“And go where?” Danielle asked.

“It’s likely to be even more dangerous if we go anywhere populated,” James said. “Even out here, there are two groups infected by stories. The closer we get to town, the higher the density.”

“Then we go the other direction. We get as far away from where the stories burned up, and things will be safer, right?” Bo asked.
 

“I suppose,” James said.

“Listen,” Danielle said. “Nobody is in a better position to put a stop to this than we are. I think it’s incumbent on us to at least try.”

“You say that,” Bo said, “but what’s the goddamn plan? Last night you said you were working on something. If you’ve got something in mind, why don’t you just say so?”

“Fine. I will,” Danielle said. She turned to James. “I’ve got a new story for you to write. We’re going to turn this whole thing around.”

Someone knocked three times on the door. They all froze.

Before anyone could move towards it, Chloe screamed.

“Get her in back,” James whispered. He motioned to Danielle.

James rushed over and picked up the shotgun. It was heavy. When he lifted it, the smell of gunpowder hit his nose. He carried it to the door as Danielle ushered Chloe towards the family room. Bo stayed put. James glanced back and saw Bo kneeling to pick up the hunting knives that the kid had dropped.