It looked away.
Once it wasn’t focused on him, Ricky understood that it had all been a trick. There was no peace there—only parasitic death.
The creature had now had its gaze directed elsewhere.
Amber said, “George!” and Ricky’s blood went cold. He knew that it was going to take his brother.
“No,” he said.
Thirty-Two: Amber
Amber pressed her head into the table and squinted until she could only see straight up. Shadows moved around in the rafters of the garage. They weren’t even bothering to hide themselves. This was their territory and they knew they were safe to do whatever they pleased.
The creature on top of Ricky reached over with a dark claw that tickled her ear when it stepped on the table next to her head. Amber stayed perfectly still and watched as it slowly extended itself, moving from Ricky’s table to hers. The thing’s head was directly above her and she could see the swirling lights of its eyes, refracted through the lenses of its corneas. Amber squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that it would look down and mesmerize her.
The skin that slipped across her cheek was cool and moist.
Amber held her breath.
It had George in its spell and it was going to attack him at any instant. It was careful, creeping up on George in slow motion. Amber wondered if maybe it was immature or inexperienced. Maybe George was going to be its first kill and the others above were waiting to see their new offspring feed.
She felt its other claw land next to her arm and pictured the thing straddling her as it crept towards George.
From outside, she heard the hollow thump again and the creature above her froze like it was listening.
As soon as it resumed creeping forward, Amber did the only thing she could think of.
With a scream that tore through her throat, Amber thrust herself upwards and drove her head forward, hoping to knock the monster off balance. She quickly hit the limits of her bondage, but she made contact and was rewarded with a surprised screech from the creature. It scrambled down the table. She felt the claws pull at her clothes as it fled and then she heard its claws scrape on the floor as it ran.
The shadows above began to shift again.
Amber squeezed her eyes shut as pairs of glowing galaxies lit up above her.
“Close your eyes!” she screamed.
“What?” George asked. He sounded drugged.
“George!” Ricky yelled. “Shut your eyes. Shut them!”
Amber thrashed and tugged at the strap on her wrist. She was determined to get free or tear the skin off of her hand trying. It felt like she was doing just that. A stinging heat, like a burn, flared in her wrist but she fought anyway, letting her fear and adrenaline make the pain inconsequential.
“What happened?” George asked. His speech was still slurred.
“Shut up and close your eyes,” Ricky said.
Amber’s thumb cracked and popped when she finally tore her hand free from the strap. Her eyes flew open in surprise. She saw them—a dozen sets of eyes, maybe more, and they were hanging from the rafters, lowering themselves down.
“No!” she screamed.
The thumping accelerated and sounded much closer now.
They weren’t trying to hypnotize her. She didn’t even think it would be necessary. There were so many of them and they all had long, sharp claws. With one hand and both feet still bound, they would easily tear her apart.
The thumping reached a crescendo and it was joined by another sound. She saw a light flicker across the garage.
“A car,” Ricky said, and then, “Is that a car?”
The light came back. It was still dim, but it was cutting through the airborne dust right over her head, separating her from the creatures. She saw them pull back to the safety of the rafters and she turned away as their glowing eyes opened wider. Amber realized that if they couldn’t come to her they would entrance her until she wanted to go to them.
“Keep your eyes shut,” she said as the light grew brighter.
Amber reached over and tried to figure out how the strap on her other wrist was secured. The car’s engine grew louder and the lights became bright enough that she could see the blood dripping down her fingers. She reached under the table and finally found the strap’s buckle. Pulling on the plastic clasp, it popped loose and slackened the strap. With some frantic tugging and pulling, her other hand was free.
The car screeched to a stop with its headlights flooding over the three of them. The high beams came on, making Amber squint. Instead of freeing her feet, she reached over and found the buckle for one of Ricky’s straps and then flopped over to free George’s arm.
A car door opened.
“Boys?” a woman’s voice called.
“Mom?” George asked.
“Get in the light!” Ricky yelled.
Thirty-Three: Alan
Earlier that morning.
“Can’t you just drop me off in the teacher’s parking lot?” Joe asked.
“Nope,” Alan said with a big smile.
“After everything?” Joe asked.
Alan laughed. “I assume you remember the bicycle altercation, Joe.”
Joe frowned.
“Is that a yes?” Alan asked.
Joe made a noise that could have been taken as a yes.
“And what did we learn from the bicycle altercation?”
“Never mind.”
“No, you brought it up. You asked the question—can I drop you off in the teacher’s lot? What’s my answer?”
“Rules aren’t changed by unrelated circumstances.”
“Close enough,” Alan said.
He took a left and pulled up into the drop-off lane. Most of the kids getting out were freshmen students. Joe’s friends usually carpooled with each other and parked next to the baseball diamond. They wouldn’t be
