The Pines

They wavered again, and he hid his face in the sand. Car bouncing in the…dark moving…coming here to night or don’t you believe? and if we run Dragonfly if we run we’ll take it with us hatches out in the end all foul…don wanna…water all leaked away in the palm of my hand felt like fire No! Don’t! Please! Wings burst outta the skin an it flies wet Something moved in the wind and mounting heat. You know what’s out there, boy? He remembered moonlight and the woman’s voice as she held the book, murmuring in softness, remembered as though he’d been there. And the picture. Chabwok. The monster. want I want I want my friend Ernie, where are you? Pammy-blood comin’ outta my mouth

It loomed before him, the picture from the page, eyes glistening, claws snapping, tearing away the tops of trees, and his stomach churned in terror. His head throbbed, lips stretched tight; his teeth felt too large.

come with me please to the woods Marl just once

The rising moon cast the dimmest of ground light. The reptilian tail lashed the sand near his face, and the wind it caused ruffled his hair. The yowling continued, sharp and inhuman.

Marl raised his head. No monster’s tail slashed the air, only pine trees waving in the sudden wind. He stood up, his naked body soiled with ash. His left arm was burned, but he didn’t feel it. The wind blew long whitish hair about his face, and it felt good. He looked around.

No Devil. And those were not spreading wings that billowed and blotted out the sky. But still the howl poured forth as though from the Pit. He felt it vibrate in his chest, ripping through his throat. Come with me, Marl. Trembling tears streaked his face. You don’t have to be scared. Not scared.

He spread wide his arms as though to embrace the woods, the long-hated woods, and reached for the smoke-stained sky.

The breeze carried a churning gurgle, as though floods rushed across the parched land. The wind flowed louder, roaring with a surge that hissed and lapped in suddenly shifting gusts. Even the sand stirred, rustling in the heated air, while in the low grasses insects shrilled louder, then stopped altogether.

Its topmost branches bent beneath a crushing wind; then Hanging Tree cracked with a drying sound. Above it, the night reddened with a false dawn.

Noises surrounded the Monroe house. It seemed all the birds were awake and shouting, stirred to panic by the acrid wind. Already, the smell of smoke hung thickly over the yard, and from inside the darkened house came barking and a frantic scrabbling at the door.

“I’m sorry, ’Thena. I shouldn’t have gone this far.” Slowly, the car pressed along the narrow road, scraping trees on both sides. “There’s got to be a place to turn around.”

“I’m frightened.” She tightened her arms around the boy, who kept trying to jerk away from her. “I’m really frightened.”

“Take it easy.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at them, and he cursed as he struggled with the wheel. “Do you know who it could have been? In the truck back there? No, forget it. I’m sorry. I’ll get us out of here in a minute. Shit, I should’ve just backed up to the fork.”

The boy’s frenzy increased. Restraining him, she didn’t answer at first. “We w ould’ve gotten stuck in the sand. Not your fault.”

“Wait a minute. Was that a spot? Could I turn around there?” He stopped the car, backed up. “I can’t tell. Is there enough room?”

She could see practically nothing through the window. “Yes, I think so.” She unlocked the door and opened it to the moving ground. “Go back a little farther. Now cut your wheels.”

The boy scrambled across her and out the door. She clutched at air.

“Jesus!” Instantly, Steve threw the brake and jumped out the other door. “Stop! Come back here! Matty!”

“Where are you?” She jumped out, staggered into the trees. “Matthew!”

“Athena!” He ran a few steps. “Stop right there. Don’t chase him. He went up that way—running along the road. Get back in the car.”

“But…”

“Hurry!”

His door slammed. Hesitating, she looked about wildly.

“’Thena!” The car started moving. “Quick! Jump in!”

She threw herself across the seat. “Where is he?” They rolled after the boy. “Do you see him?”

“Athena, shut that door!”

“Where is he? Matthew, come back! Do you hear me? Go faster!”

“I’m afraid I’ll hit him. Athena, close that door all the way!”

“Matthew? Oh God, oh my God, stop the car! Stop the car and let me go after him. Oh Matty!”

“Don’t be stupid—you’ll get lost. He went this way. Look up there! Is that him? I think I see…”

The road ended. Abruptly. A wall of trees.

“Oh please…Steve, catch him…. I can’t run.”

He stood in the road. “He went in that way. I saw him.” He stood by the car and pounded his fist on the hood. “Matty! Matty! No, ’Thena, stay in the car. I’ll go get him. Do you hear me? I said stay in the car.”

“No.”

“What if he comes back and there’s nobody here?” He turned to look at her one last time. “One of us has to stay. Now don’t argue with me. We can’t waste the time. Roll up the windows and lock the doors. Keep the headlights on so I can find my way back.” He slammed the door. “Keep the rifle in your hands. You remember what I told you about how to use it? What ever you do, don’t open the door to anybody but me and the boy.”

“Steve?” She leaned out.

“And roll up those windows!” He hurried into the pines. “Matty! Where are you, boy? Answer me!” The headlights shone brightly behind him, striping the sand with pine shadows. He gripped the revolver. The breeze held a wisp of something; he shuddered with disgust, and the trees whispered like children all around him. It was here. He knew it. Flicking off the safety catch, he prayed that she wouldn’t get out of the car.

He waited for the phantom children to surge toward him, waited for the clawing hands. He clutched the sweaty gun more tightly, and he stumbled, the ground breaking loose, soft. His stomach clenched. “Matty?” Already, the headlights behind him looked distant and foggy, and he cursed himself for not having brought the flashlight. He panted against the clamminess of his clothing. The hot silt of the dried swamp gave way beneath his feet with every step, and the air hummed around him. He heard a noise.

“Matty?” But he knew.

Something slogged toward him. He felt the strength drain from him with a steady, pulsing nausea, felt his guts roil and the sweat run down his sides.

The shot sounded so faint, so faraway.

She sat very still. Please, be all right. She could see only the reaching pines, frozen in the high beams. Steven. Matthew. She shut her eyes. Help. She heard nothing further. No shots. No cries. I should go get help. Even as she thought it, she knew there was no time, and as she sat motionless, an awareness filled her, a sense of her whole life, of everything that had brought her to this frozen moment, until her silent panic hardened into a feeling of rightness, of inevitability.

It’s out there. Waiting. The way I always knew it was. It has the boy. And now I’m going to find him. To get him back. At last. All the nightmares rose in her mind. It could be anything, anyone. She remembered all those books they’d read and what Doris had said about people who change, who kill. But I’m going to know it now. The weight of the rifle surprised her. I am. She moved with an almost mechanical efficiency, as though she’d been preparing for this her whole life. Now.

She left the headlights on, and the merging shafts struck the blackness. So we can all find our way back. Getting out, she slammed the door tight and took a few steps, cutting through the swath of