Alan Wake

it was so cold the stars looked jagged. Well, that’s science, Ellen, she told herself, you have to be prepared for anything.

Ellen wasn’t weird, no matter what the other 7th graders said. No matter what her mother said either. Her mind just turned things over differently. Which was why she now sat alone in the forest with her ears plugged, and a tape recorder beside her. Soon, Ellen would know the answer to the question: if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?

The alder trees rattled against each other in the wind like finger bones. Ellen pushed her earplugs in farther. Every time it stormed, some scrawny alders toppled over; she just had to be here when it happened, and let the recorder provide the proof if they actually made a sound when they fell.

She shivered again, the temperature falling by the second, colder and colder. Kind of creepy in the darkness, but scientists had to be brave. She turned, thought she saw something off in the trees, but there was only darkness. She rubbed her arms, trying to bring the heat back, but the cold drifted deeper inside her.

The wind rose sharply, sent the trees clattering against each other, the sound so loud she heard it through her earplugs. She wondered if that would ruin the experiment. Her teeth chattered. She wanted to leave, to get up and run home, but the cold rolled over her like an icy mist, the cold clinging and dark. Her breath was frost in the air as she stood up, knees shaking. She tried to get her bearings, but nothing looked right, nothing looked familiar. What had happened to the stars? It looked like somebody had pulled the plug on heaven—

CHAPTER 11

“YOU’RE WELCOME, DIPSHIT.”

Wake got to his feet, head ringing from the gunshot that had saved his life. He stared at the man with the gun, a swaggering local in baggy camouflage pants and a hunting vest, a Redman Snuff ballcap on his head.

“Move.” The man beckoned with the 9mm automatic. “We’re about to have company.”

“Who are you?” Wake had seen the man before…

More Taken emerged from the trees, carrying axes and iron bars, muttering snatches of words he couldn’t make out.

Something flew past Wake, trailing sparks. A smooth stick landed at the feet of the group of Taken and exploded into a blinding light. The Taken were gone, just like that.

“That punkass flashlight of yours is kids’ stuff.” The man tossed Wake a small canvas bag, started running. “Use the flares.”

“You… you can see them?” said Wake. He could hear a river roaring as he raced to keep up, the sound getting louder.

“Of course I see them,” snarled the man. “Come on, there’s more of them coming. I think you attract the bastards, Wake.”

“Who are you?” said Wake.

“The Tooth Fairy. Open wide, Wake.” The man cackled. “I been dodging those ugly things up and down the mountain for the last hour. Had a few close calls too, I’ll tell you that. This one bastard had a mallet big enough to brain an elephant. Took two flares to stop him.”

Wake recognized the man now. He was on the ferry when they arrived in Bright Falls. He recognized the man’s voice too, the voice on the phone telling Wake that he had Alice. He grabbed the man’s collar. “Where is she?”

The man pushed the 9mm gun under Wake’s chin, slowly pushed his head back. “Play nice.”

As Wake released him and he trotted toward a viewing platform overlooking a small waterfall. A sign read: LOVERS’ PEAK. “Here we are, Wake, our last stand! Keep your back to the falls and they won’t be able to circle behind us.”

“I need a gun!” said Wake, stepping onto the platform, feeling the vibration from the rushing river.

“Just do your job and maybe we’ll all get what we need,” said the man, keeping his eyes on the nearby woods.

The Taken swarmed out of the trees, pouring out of the woods in bright hunter’s vests and wool caps, in new camping gear, all of them waving something, knives and pickaxes and sledgehammers, anything sharp, anything deadly.

They acted as a team, Wake peeling away the Taken’s protective darkness with the flashlight, the other man shooting them, slamming fresh magazines into the 9mm from his vest pockets. When the Taken pressed in too close and threatened to overwhelm them, Wake would twist one of the flares, igniting it, then tossing it among them. They fought from one side of the platform to the other, charging the Taken, then retreating. All the while the river rushed past, and the waterfall roared on without interruption, oblivious to their peril.

But the man had been wrong. Keeping their backs to the falls didn’t guarantee their safety. A sickle whistled past Wake’s head, nicking his cheek. He turned and saw that three of the Taken had scaled the platform from below, and were pulling themselves up over the railing.

“Hey!” Wake shouted to the man as he turned the flashlight on the Taken.

One of the Taken hurled a hammer and struck the man in the back, knocking him down.

Wake backed up, still training the flashlight on the Taken, reached out and pulled the man to his feet. “Shoot them!”

A Taken charged Wake.

Wake twisted a flare, the flash of light blinding him. He could hear the gunshots, the man cheering himself on, but it was like being lost in a snowstorm.

“You like that?” shouted the man. More gunshots. “How’s that? A little off the top?” More gunshots. “Here you go!”

Wake saw an enormous Taken lumbering toward them, a big man in a red plaid jacket carrying a steel coal shovel.

“Do something, Wake!”

Wake reached into the canvas bag. There were only a few flares left.

The man shot the Taken as it stomped onto the platform, the shadows so thick that the bullets had no effect. “Hurry up!”

Wake set off a flare. He held it in front of him, squinting to see in the bright light, then shoved it right in the Taken’s face.

The Taken lifted the coal shovel as the flare dissolved the shadows protecting it, the hot white light eating away the darkness.

The man shot the Taken three times in rapid succession, three times in the head.

The Taken disappeared.

The only sound on the platform was the rush of water from the falls, and the two men panting for breath.

“That—that was fun,” gasped the other man, sagging against the railing of the observation platform, soaked in sweat.

“What… what are those things?” said Wake. “Where do they come from?”

“You tell me,” said the man.

“I want to see Alice,” said Wake.

“I knew you were going to say that,” said the man, grinning. “Just like I knew we were going to survive the gunfight at the O.K. Corral here. Because I read it all. You’re a hell of a writer, Wake. You’re going to bring about something glorious and terrible, once we get you some… uh… proper editorial control.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just give me the rest of the manuscript,” demanded the man, one hand outstretched.