Alan Wake

stepped through and out onto the grass, the softness of the ground oddly comforting. There was nothing he could do for Rusty. Probably never had been. He could still see the pained amusement on the ranger’s face as he repeated, patch me up? The trail to Lovers’ Peak started right there, right through that wooden gate. Wake started toward it.

“Fishing is only permitted for those visitors who purchase a park fishing license!” warbled someone, the voice distorted.

Wake looked around, finally glanced up, saw a man pacing on the roof, his face covered in shadows.

“It is against the law to remove any natural objects or historical artifacts from the park grounds!” said the man, hefting a double-bladed ax.

It was Rusty.

“Rusty… Rusty, please don’t,” said Wake.

Rusty dropped down from the roof, landing as lightly as though he were made of smoke. “It is forbidden to remove rocks you may find along the river or even simple berries, sir!”

Wake backed up toward the gate, but Rusty cut him off.

“Obey the park ranger’s instructions at all times,” said Rusty, advancing on him.

Wake shone the flashlight on him and Rusty cowered, threw an arm in front of his face.

“I’m sorry,” said Wake, “I shouldn’t have left you.”

Rusty charged, the ax swooshing through the air.

Wake caught him in the glare of the flashlight, shot him. The shadow that shielded Rusty, the shadow that filled him, animated him, disintegrated in the light.

Rusty flinched, unprotected now, but came at him again. “Obey the park—”

Wake shot him again and again as Rusty stood frozen in the light, shot him until the creature who had once been a park ranger dissolved in the night, leaving only the fading echo of his voice behind.

Wake looked around and started reloading. His hands were steady as he slipped the bullets into the cylinders, steadier than he felt. He had killed Stucky, killed other Taken, but that was different. He didn’t know them. He had talked with Rusty. Seen him shyly flirting with Rose in the Oh Deer Diner that first day, noticed the way Rusty watched her over the rim of his coffee mug. A beautiful moment, the kind of thing a novelist noted, something to be used later, in a book that hadn’t been written. Wake had been there as Rusty tenderly cared for the injured dog, soothing the poor animal with his touch and his voice. Now Wake had killed him. Killed the thing Rusty had become. Wake wiped his eyes and pushed open the gate. All the tears in the world weren’t going to bring back the park ranger. He had Alice to think about now.

Wake had taken barely a dozen steps down the nature trail when the ground shook again, a monstrous roar pounding through the forest. The trees quaked as though buffeted by a storm. Just as suddenly, the forest grew quiet, utterly still, not even a breath of wind. Wake checked his watch and hurried on, the path rising steadily through the trees, past picnic tables and trash cans, trailside displays of flora and fauna, laminated maps marked with arrows saying YOU ARE HERE!

Wake kept moving. It seemed like all he had done for days now was keep moving, wherever the path leads, as long as it led to Alice. He slowed, head cocked, then stopped, his flashlight glinting on something just ahead. He walked closer, shining the flashlight across the path.

A bear trap lay in the grass beside the path, jaws wide, jagged teeth shining in the light. Rusty had warned him about old traps scattered across the forest; most of the trappers who had set them were long gone now. The trap was huge, but as big as it was, without the flashlight Wake would have probably walked right into it. Even if he managed to pry the jaws open, he’d be bleeding, his ankle broken, dragging one leg behind him. Easy prey for the Taken. Wake nudged the trap with the toe of his boot and the jaws snapped shut, the sound too loud for comfort.

Wake remembered Rusty dying on the floor of the lodge, trying to hold his guts in with both hands, whimpering for Wake to please help him. Wake hadn’t been able to do the ranger any good. He turned his head now, listening for sounds in the trees. Maybe killing Rusty after he’d become a Taken was as much of a kindness as Wake could manage. He started walking again, the flashlight beam swiveling back and forth across the trail.

Wind rippled the trees, the darkness seeming to gather itself closer around him. Wake avoided another bear trap, and then another, this one better hidden, almost invisible in the weeds.

The trail switchbacked up the mountain, finally bringing Wake to a cable car at the edge of a drop-off. A Lovers’ Peak arrow pointed down. He looked over, saw a cable stretched a couple hundred feet over a ravine to another landing below. The cable car looked rickety, with only a low railing to keep a rider from falling out. The USE AT YOUR OWN RISK, NO HORSEPLAY sign above the landing didn’t help to inspire confidence either. Wake pressed the button on the landing and the cable car slowly moved toward him, making grinding noises as it got closer and closer. If Barry were here, he’d already be talking about lawsuits and deep pockets, and owning the whole town if the thing crashed onto the rocks below.

Wake got in, closed the gate behind him, the cable car swaying now. Wake’s stomach was doing backflips that would do the Romanian gymnastics team proud. He pressed a button in the car, tightly gripping the sides as it lurched across the chasm.

CAW!

Wake looked up and saw a raven approaching on silent wings, unhurried. A few moments later there were a dozen ravens in the sky, circling overhead. He pressed the button in the car, as though that would make it go faster. More ravens now, an enormous flock of them, blocking out the stars, more of them gathering as he watched.

CAW! CAW! CAW!

The swarm of ravens swooped down at him, shadows leaking out of them, screeching, beating at him with their wings. He tried to duck, but they attacked again, and he felt one of them land on the back of his neck, tearing at him with its beak. Blood pouring from his ear, Wake cursed, turned his flashlight on the ravens, stunned to find them flaring up and disappearing, just like the Taken. He fought waves of ravens with the flashlight beam alone, killing them by the dozens, but they still kept coming, swarming the cable car, their shadows filling the night.

The cable car shuddered and came to a brief halt.

It hung there for a moment, suspended above the ravine, before something gave way and it started screeching down the cable faster and faster. Wake held on, bracing himself for impact.

The cable car hit hard, sending Wake tumbling out onto the ground, end over end, his flashlight flying. He lay there stunned for a moment, trying to breathe, the wind knocked out of him. He groaned as he got slowly to his knees, picking up his flashlight. His revolver… his revolver was gone. He looked around in panic and spotted it near the cable car. Still disoriented, Wake could only crawl toward the revolver on his hands and knees. Almost there. Almost there now…

A worn, hobnailed boot tromped on the revolver, then kicked it over the edge and into the ravine.

Wake stared at the mud-crusted boot, groggy, thinking that someone should tell him that his laces were untied. Wouldn’t want to trip. He looked up…

A Taken stood beside the cable car, gripping a hand-sickle. He must have been part of a work crew in the park, keeping the trails clear, but that was before… before he had become part of the darkness. He started toward Wake, the blade of the sickle shiny in the moonlight, sharp enough to shave with.

Wake fumbled at the flashlight.

The Taken loomed over him, muttering, the sickle raised high.

Wake flicked on the flashlight, turned it on the Taken.

The darkness peeled away from the Taken, but it still had the strength to swing the sickle down—

Wake threw up his arm, a futile attempt to protect himself. There was a crack like thunder, and the Taken rocked backwards, its outlines shimmering.

Another thunderclap and the Taken erupted in light.

Wake looked over his shoulder, saw a man standing there with a pistol, smoke curling out of the barrel.

Ellen shivered as the wind kicked up. A sweater and jacket should have been plenty to ward off the chill, but