His only response was to retrieve his keys from his pocket and unlock the door.
"Bill."
Her voice caught him, all the emotion in it, the confusion making his heart ache. Bill turned and went to her. But he did not reach out for her. Did not try to embrace her.
"It's hard," he said. "You seeing what I really am. It puts a lot of distance between us."
Courtney glanced away. "It does," she admitted. "I don't live in the world I used to. This is all new, and pretty terrifying."
Finally she raised her eyes.
"It's going to take some getting used to," Courtney revealed. "But I can't pretend, can I? I can't go back to being ignorant like everyone else. We'll deal with it.
We'll evolve."
Bill smiled. "We can do that."
He slid behind the wheel of the Olds, started her up, and rolled down the window. Courtney bent down to gaze in at him. Neither of them had any idea what he would find when he got to Buckton.
"Bring them home," she told him.
After only a moment's hesitation, Bill nodded.
While he drove off, she stood in the alley and watched him go, arms wrapped around herself as though it were the dead of winter.
It was quarter to eleven on a Saturday night in the middle of July, and even that late, it was well above eighty degrees.
The whole forest seemed alive.
Jack and Molly were city people, born and raised. Unlike some of their friends, they had spent little time out of Boston, hiking or camping or rafting. Now as they hurried along the trail that cut through the forest, ducking low-hanging branches and jumping over dead-fall, Jack felt as though the woods around them were allied with the Prowlers.
This is the wild, and we are intruders.
He gripped the shotgun tighter and watched the ground before him as best he could, knowing that a wrong step could cost him. He felt eyes upon him from the trees on either side of the path. It might have been only paranoia, but he would not rule out that the Prowlers were lying in wait.
One of them, at least, had their scents. Jack knew that meant the monster could find them any time now.
Fortunately, the wind through the trees was coming down off the mountain, and thus their scents would not carry to the Prowlers ahead of them. Of course, the beasts would likely hear them coming; their senses were far more acute than those of humans. But Jack could not worry about that, could not even think about it. He knew that he and Molly would not be able to look at themselves in the mirror if they did not try to save the girl.
A few minutes into their trek, a scream tore through the woods, and something rustled in the underbrush off to the left. Jack tried to convince himself that it was just an animal, something harmless. He froze on the path and glanced back at Molly.
"They're not on this path," she whispered, her eyes were wide as she gazed into the darkness for some sign of the Prowlers.
Jack nodded in agreement. He had hoped they would not have to go through the trees. They would make even more noise, and the going would be much slower. There was nothing to be done for it unless they were willing to turn around and go home.
It was too late for that. Too late for going back.
Molly touched his shoulder. Their eyes met and he knew that she felt the same way. His heart raced even faster, but he reminded himself how much more terrified that girl must be. Molly gripped her shotgun with both hands once more.
Together, they stepped off the path and into the trees.
Folded in his back pocket he carried the area map they had marked up on their explorations of the area. They had no flashlight, and he doubted he could have read it by the light of the moon. On the other hand, he was far from certain he would be able to figure out where they were at the moment even if he had had enough light to read it by.
The forest was not as dense as Jack had expected, and the going was easier than he feared, but there were plenty of branches to brush by and twigs that snapped underfoot. Any hope he had of catching the monsters unaware was dashed by those tiny noises.
As they jogged through the woods, the air close and humid and far too warm, they were careful not to catch their feet on stones or roots. Horrid sounds came down to them at odd intervals: another scream or two, a howling laugh that sounded much too close, the swish of something moving in the dark nearby. Their eyes had now fully adjusted to the moonlight, but the trees stood out in silhouette, more like paper cutouts than actual growing things, and once again Jack had the impression of being on a movie set.
But the fear, that was real. And that made it all real, no matter how eerily false the world around him appeared.
Those black silhouettes that made up the woods could have hidden anything. Their depth seemed endless. Jack almost wanted to close his eyes, but he dared not. A branch scratched his right cheek and he felt a thin line of blood drip from the cut. The smell of pine needles and of wild things was strong.
Several times they passed places where the stink of animals was almost overpowering, and Jack wondered if the Prowlers had marked those spots.
They had been moving through the trees for at least ten minutes when Molly tapped his arm. Jack flinched then, and he let out a long breath when he glanced at her inquisitively.
"I don't hear anything," she whispered.
A cold shroud blanketed him suddenly, heavy and cloying. He knew she was right. There had been no audible sign of the Prowlers for over a minute. Either they had
