His dad cut him off before he could finish. “We’re going to be fine. You, Mary, and me. We’re all gonna be fine.”
Alex looked over at the dog he’d owned for as long as he could remember. “And Shadow?”
His dad smiled. “Of course, Shadow too. I wouldn’t let anything happen to any of you. You know that, right?”
Alex could see in his father’s eyes that he had never been more sincere about anything in his entire life. That was the answer he was looking for. He smiled. “Yeah, Dad. I know.”
He fell asleep to the happy, dreamy grumbles of Shadow as she nuzzled into his legs on the bed.
DAVID
“Whatcha doing?”
David had been asking questions all day—it’s what little brothers do.
Nicole stopped in her task—non-perishable foods and mini camping supplies strewn about the table—glared at David, sighed, and went back to organizing without a word. It’s what big sisters do.
“Can I venture a guess?” David continued, sensing that she did not want to be bothered, which meant that he should go on. “I’m guessing you are ...” He scanned the objects on the table: a flashlight, camping matches, a compass, a pop bottle filled with water. “... running away? Oh my God, Nicole, are you running away?”
Nicole slammed her hand down on the table, making her teased out hair wobble with the force. David could not get used to his sister’s new “goth” look: the poofy, dyed-black hair, red eye-liner, black eye-shadow, black lipstick, black everything except the white powder on her face. She wasn’t exactly tan before, so he thought it was a pointless addition, especially when her face was no longer the same colour as her neck. She didn’t find it as clever as he did when he told her that she looked like a mix between Bozo the Clown and Dracula. The wobbling hair wasn’t new, but he still had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re running away, aren’t you?”
“No, spaz,” Nicole finally responded. “I am not running away. Now frig off. Seriously.”
“Oh,” David paused. “So, whatcha—”
“I’m making a survival kit!”
David nodded his head and re-scanned the objects. “Yes, it does look like that, doesn’t it? Mmm hmm.”
Nicole stopped again but did not look at him. “What do you want?”
“I’m bored,” he admitted.
“Uh-huh,” Nicole said, going back to her task.
“Yeah,” David continued. “You wanna play a game?”
“A game of what?”
David thought for a moment. “I was hoping you’d have an idea?”
“David,” Nicole turned in her chair to look at him. “If you are bored, might I suggest you ...” She paused. David waited for the inevitable go jump in front of a moving truck or see how high you can fall before it kills you. Maybe she would just punch him. “... go see what’s under Carol’s sink and see what it tastes like?” Then she punched him.
Being on the road must have given her new material, David thought as he walked away.
David and Nicole had been staying with their Aunt Carol for the past three days, with another four days to go before their parents got back from Europe. David had been told that they couldn’t go because they’d miss too much school, but he was fairly certain it had something to do with the blowout that Nicole had had with them the week before. Sometimes he hated being the sibling—it usually meant that if one was punished for something, so was the other.
It did make it a little easier on him to be intentionally annoying to his sister. He really would have liked to have visited Stonehenge, so he would subtly take it out on her as much as he could. At least until she told him why they were actually left at home, which he doubted would ever happen.
He was fine with that. They rarely had quality brother-sister time since she went all gloomy-vampire on him. At least it was better than her flower-child phase.
In the three days at Aunt Carol’s, David had gone through all of the National Geographics, organized them by date, then by colour of the picture on the cover, then by date again. He had brought the family’s Nintendo with them, but forgot to check what sort of TV connection Aunt Carol had. Now the Nintendo sat in its box next to a Sobeys’ bag full of games. Mocking him.
To keep himself entertained, he took apart various appliances in Carol’s home. He had already taken apart the vacuum cleaner and the toaster and put them back together, and was about to start on the recliner in the living room, to get rid of its weird squeaking noise, when he heard glass shatter.
He looked into the dining room where he had just been talking with his sister. She was gone, and so was her survival kit.
“Nicole? What was that?”
No answer.
“Nicole? Where—”
Another shattering sound stopped the words in his throat.
It came from the basement.
“Nicole? Hello?” he called, weakly, as he walked toward the basement door. There was no light on down there, only a rustling sound. A ... struggling sound. He peered down the stairwell. He jumped at a loud bang, quickly followed by another shatter.
His mouth dried as he looked down the stairs. He would try calling out one more time, then he would close the door and barricade it with Aunt Carol’s coffee table.
“Hello?”
Suddenly, he caught a shadow moving—lumbering—toward the stairs. Whatever it was, it was shuffling as it moved slowly toward him.
SMASH!
As the shadow came closer, he, sweating profusely, backed away toward the coffee table. Whatever it was had reached the stairs, and was making its way up to him. So slowly. Why didn’t I close the door?! he thought, as he reached down and grabbed the leg of the coffee table. He could block this thing’s path—whatever it was. He gave it a tug, but it wouldn’t move—the living room rug made it stick.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
He could feel a scream welling in his throat,
