In fact, he didn’t recognize anything at all.
Could he have crossed the path without noticing it?
Or was he maybe going in the wrong direction?
He looked up, searching the sky for something familiar, and finally found the Big Dipper, then followed its line to the North Star. So now at least he knew he was going in the right direction. If he kept going straight, he’d get back to town.
But he’d actually get
Maybe he shouldn’t have had so much to drink.
He started walking, getting pissed at Adam all over again; if Adam hadn’t been such an asshole, they’d have just finished off the bottle, had a couple of laughs at the expense of the coneheads, and by now he’d be home and in bed instead of trudging through the woods trying to find a path that wasn’t all that easy to spot even in daylight.
Abruptly, the woods gave way to a large open space, and Ellis stopped short as he saw a towering deadfall standing alone in the center of the clearing. Its leafless, barkless branches gleamed in the moonlight like great lifeless arms reaching out to him.
Reaching out to touch him.
To close around him.
To crush him…
With a strangled cry, he took an instinctive step backward, tripped, and fell to the ground.
He scrambled to his feet, his eyes still fixed on the looming deadfall.
A deadfall he’d never seen before.
But that wasn’t possible — he’d been everywhere in these woods. Everywhere!
Turning away from the tree, he started moving again, hurrying his step. He couldn’t be that far from town, but what if he’d turned himself around?
What if he couldn’t find the path?
He shivered as the idea of wandering in the woods all night long began to take root in his mind.
Maybe, after all, he should have walked Cherie home.
In fact, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten pissed at Adam, either.
Somewhere behind him, he heard a branch crack and froze in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as his heart skipped a beat.
Was it a branch falling from the deadfall?
Or was it someone stepping on a branch that had already fallen?
Adam! That was it — Adam had followed him, just like he and Adam and Chris had followed those coneheads the night before last. “Adam?” he called out, taking a couple of tentative steps toward where he thought the path ought to be.
He heard the brush rustle behind him.
Once again he stopped short.
The rustling stopped.
Now his skin was starting to crawl. “Come on, Adam,” he said, struggling to keep his voice from betraying the fear that was starting to spread through him. “This isn’t funny. I’m not a conehead, you know.” No answer.
He started walking again, and as he did, the rustling in the brush began again.
He stopped. “Chris?”
No answer.
“Adam? Come on, man! I’m sorry, okay?” Ellis quickened his pace.
What if it wasn’t Adam? What if it was a bear, or a mountain lion?
What if it was stalking him?
His fear suddenly threatened to explode into panic, and as he twisted his head around to peer into the blackness behind him, the toe of his tennis shoe caught on a root. He sprawled out hard, pine needles stabbing his face and hands, a sharp pain shooting through his leg as his knee smashed onto a rock. He stifled the yelp of pain almost before it escaped his throat, then lay silent, listening, trying to breathe noiselessly through his mouth.
All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
As the panic — and the agony in his knee — eased, Ellis rose unsteadily to his feet.
And the sounds behind him began again as soon as he started limping ahead.
He tried to move faster, but couldn’t, his throbbing knee threatening to collapse after every step. And then, a dozen paces farther, he found it.
The path, its features familiar even in the dark.
He began to run, ignoring the pain, wanting only to escape whatever it was that had been stalking him. But after only a few yards his knee threatened to give out and he fell back to a limping half trot.
And the footfalls behind him were there again.
He’d gained nothing by running; in fact, whatever it was seemed closer than ever.
Once more he forced himself into a run, even though he knew it didn’t matter.
Whatever was chasing him was going to catch him anyway.
But still he had to run.
Sheer panic drove him on until finally he could bear the pain in his leg no more, and his breath came in rasping gasps, and his heart felt like it was about to explode.
He could hear whoever — or whatever — it was breathing behind him now.
He reached deep inside himself, found one last hidden reserve of energy, and — Something hard — something hard and heavy — crashed against the back of his neck.
Fireworks exploded in his head as he stumbled and fell to his knees.
He turned, wanting to see who — or what — had attacked him, but all he saw was a black silhouette looming over him, obscuring the faint moonlight.
The attacker raised what looked like a huge club high above him.
Ellis whimpered, cowering back, trying to drag himself away into the darkness.
And then, as the cudgel began arcing down on him, recognition flashed through his mind.
He knew who was killing him.
He knew, but it didn’t matter.
It was already far too late.
Chapter 18
ERIC KNEW SOMETHING had happened the moment he saw Tad and Kent coming up the lawn the next morning, partly because it wasn’t even seven-thirty yet and he knew that Kent, at least, never got up before eight unless he absolutely had to. But it wasn’t just that Kent was up too early — Eric could see by the way he was walking that Tad was upset about something.
By the time they came to the steps leading up to Pinecrest’s wide veranda, Eric was already outside, waiting for them. “What’s going on?” he asked. Tad, his face pale, said nothing, and just as Kent was about to say something, the kitchen door opened and his mother stuck her head out as Moxie slipped through the crack and charged down the steps to throw himself on Kent.
“Breakfast in fifteen minutes,” Merrill said. “You two want pancakes?” When both Kent and Tad shook their heads, she widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Teenage boys who don’t want pancakes? It must be the end of the world!” Her eyes shifted back to Eric. “Will you keep an eye on Moxie, or shall I call him back inside?”
“I’ll watch him,” Eric replied. As the kitchen door closed again, he moved down the steps. “So what is it?” he pressed.
