Now another sound came out of the darkness — a low, faint hooting.
The sound came again, closer now.
But there had been no fluttering of wings.
The hooting changed, becoming a moaning sound, and Angel shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her throat. Then, hearing the sound again, she felt an awful crawly feeling on the back of her neck.
Something was behind her.
Something dangerous.
A twig snapped, so close that Angel jumped, and she whirled around to peer into the darkness behind her.
There was a flicker of movement, gone in an instant, swallowed by the darkness so quickly that Angel wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. She backed away, turned, and began to run.
A scream burst out of the night, so loud it stopped Angel in her tracks, but it died abruptly, cut off at almost the instant it began. Now she stood trembling in the darkness. All around her the night had fallen eerily silent after the scream, the silence almost as terrifying as the scream had been.
If it had really been a scream.
Yet even as she reassured herself and headed toward home again, the sounds returned.
Leaves rustling.
Twigs cracking.
She heard a low whistle off to one side, and crossed the road once more, but a moment later there was a moan from the forest — as if someone were in pain. Her heart raced as tendrils of panic slithered out of the darkness, creeping toward her. Then she heard a whimpering sound, and a moment later realized it had come from her own lips.
Another moan, this time from somewhere behind her, and she whirled once more, only to see another shadow vanish into the black depths of the forest.
She turned again, and caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of her eye. Her breath catching in her throat, she felt the tendrils of panic tightening around her, and now she tried to look in every direction at once, frantically searching for the shapes whose shadows seemed always on the periphery of her vision.
There was nothing but darkness. The lights of the village had disappeared behind her, and the lights of the house at the Crossing weren’t yet visible. She looked up into the sky, but it too was darkening as the layer of cloud over the moon grew denser.
She started running, but the toe of her left foot caught on something and she plunged forward. She threw out her hands to protect her face, and a moment later felt a terrible stinging as the asphalt of the road tore the skin from her palms.
This time there was no mistaking the cry of pain as coming from anywhere but her own throat, but she managed to choke it into silence almost as quickly as the scream she’d heard moments before had died. She scrambled back to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jacket and jeans. Her eyes blurring with tears, she stumbled on through the darkness. Now there were sounds all around her — leaves rustling and twigs breaking as if some beast hidden in the darkness and the trees were keeping pace with her, preparing to launch itself at her. She veered across the road still another time, but there was no longer any escaping the terrifying cacophony.
Running again, her heart pounding, her lungs heaving, she tried to escape the terrors that surrounded her in the darkness. Now the night took on the quality of a nightmare. Her feet felt sluggish, as if bogged down in thick mud, and the road itself threatened to mire her. A moan escaped her lips, nearly echoing the moans that had come from the forest earlier.
Then, as she came to the bend in the road, she saw it.
The house at the Crossing, light pouring from its windows, washing away the darkness. Angel hurled herself toward the light, veering across the road and onto the small expanse of lawn that wrapped around the house.
The sounds began to die away.
And then, once more, silence.
A silence that was suddenly broken by laughter.
Loud, raucous laughter, rolling out of the forest and across the road and the lawn. Angel felt it crashing against her as she stood on the front porch.
Zack. Now she understood what had happened. Heather and her friend must have told Zack what had happened. Now he was laughing.
Laughing exactly as they had laughed earlier.
Struggling against the tears that now threatened to overwhelm her, she turned her back on the mocking laughter, slipped through the front door, and headed for the stairs, wanting nothing more than the refuge of her room, where she might blot out the laughter still ringing in her ears.
But as she passed the living room, her mother said, “Angel? Are you all right?” She hesitated, wanting to tell her mother what had happened, what Zack Fletcher had done. But remembering what had happened when she’d told her mother about her father coming into her room that night, she changed her mind. Besides, if her mother believed her, she would tell her aunt Joni, and her aunt would talk to Zack, and…
And everything would be even worse than it was right now.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m just going upstairs to finish my homework.”
“All right,” her mother said. “I’ll come in and say good night in a little while.” Upstairs, Angel washed the blood and grime off her scraped palms, winced as she dabbed the cuts with iodine, then went to her room. Instead of turning on the light, however, she went to the window and peered out into the darkness. The moon was obliterated now, and it was like looking into the blackness of eternity itself. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to simply disappear into that blackness, to float forever in silence and nothingness.
At last she drew the curtains and turned away from the window, but still didn’t turn on the light. Instead she took off her clothes in darkness, and in darkness she slipped into her bed.
When her mother came in to kiss her good-night an hour later, Angel pretended to be asleep, and carefully kept her injuries hidden beneath her blankets.
Zack Fletcher was still two blocks from home when he heard a faint rustling sound, just like the sound he himself had made half an hour ago when he, Chad, and Jared caught up with Angel Sullivan as she walked home, making noises in the woods and scaring her so badly she’d started running. So he ignored it as he continued to walk along Haverford Street.
The sounds continued, a distinct rustling in the leaves off to the left, and finally, when he’d passed two more houses, Zack stopped.
So did the sound of rustling leaves.
He resumed walking again.
The sounds began again too.
Zack stopped again. “Okay, Chad!” he called out. “You can come out now — I know it’s you.” Nothing.
He began walking again, and the sounds started up again, keeping pace with him.
“Come on, Chad!” he shouted. “You’re not scaring me!” But even as he spoke the words, his voice betrayed the lie.
He walked faster, and heard the sound again.
Something, or someone, was moving along next to him, keeping pace with him.
But why couldn’t he see them? There were lights on in the houses along Haverford Street, and porch lights were on, and streetlights. Yet he couldn’t make out whoever was following him.
