The Fear Zone

by K. R. Alexander

  I nod and pull out my phone to text Andres.

  I can only hope it’s not too late.

  The classroom closes in. The walls are dirt. The floor is dirt. The windows are dirt. Even the air in my lungs is dirt.

  It squeezes around me, and I can’t breathe, can’t breathe.

  But I sit there, quietly, as the grave crushes against my chest.

  There is no point crying. No one will come.

  No one will ever come back.

  Andres is waiting for me outside the door when my class is finished. His eyes are nervously darting around to the kids who walk past us, and his hair drips down his face unchecked.

  “You aren’t checking your phone,” he says the moment he sees me. He almost sounds angry, but he’s definitely more scared. He takes my arm and pulls me down the hall. Not toward lunch, but toward the exit.

  “I was in class,” I say defensively. “Why? Where are we going?”

  He doesn’t say anything. His face is set in grim determination.

  “I’m not staying here,” he grumbles. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I was nearly eaten in gym class. And it sounds like I’m not the only one.”

  He hands his phone over to me.

  It’s a conversation with Kyle. And as I read it, my stomach drops.

  “Deshaun was sent to the nurse’s office,” I whisper. I hand him back the phone. “He tried facing the ghost and it attacked him. And wait, what do you mean you were nearly eaten?”

  He glances at me.

  “Glad I’m at the top of your priorities.” His voice is rough. “In gym. We were swimming. And suddenly it wasn’t the pool, but the ocean, and the biggest shark you’ve ever seen was coming after me. I nearly died. Until Mr. Lonergan pulled me out, but I think he was actually the clown in disguise, or possessed, or I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on anymore, only that we can’t trust anyone and this thing is getting worse. It can control our reality—our fears let it in, and it can shift everything. Which is bad enough—but now it’s getting violent.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “Not be split up anymore, for one thing,” he says.

  I fully expect a teacher to yell at us when we cross the threshold to the school and step out into the cold afternoon air. After all, we’re breaking a ton of rules. But maybe it’s the general chaos of kids rushing between classes—no one calls out. No one stops us. It almost feels easy. Too easy.

  Until …

  “Hey!” Andres calls. He nods toward the flagpole. To the girl sitting there with her head in her hands. I know who it is before she even looks at us.

  Caroline.

  She looks terrible, and while that might have made me feel good a few days ago, now I actually feel bad. Her makeup streaks down her face and her eyes are puffy and red. I can tell even from here that her breath is fast and frantic, like a rabbit running from a fox.

  And it’s then I know, before she even opens her mouth, that she was lying to us before.

  She has been facing some sort of evil. And it hasn’t been kind to her.

  As much as I don’t like it, we’re in this together.

  Caroline doesn’t call back or even move, really. She just stares at us without really seeing. We pause in front of her, Andres still holding my arm.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  She swallows. She doesn’t answer.

  Andres looks at me. Nods at her. I know that expression: She used to be your friend. Say something!

  “Caroline, um.” I look around and kneel down, putting my hands on her knees. She looks at me, her eyes glazed over, and sniffs. “Caroline, if this is about what happened in the graveyard … or whatever happened after the graveyard, you’re not alone. We’re being haunted too. It’s been coming after all of us. But we think that together, we can face it.” I squeeze her knee. “We can defeat it.”

  She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is so quiet I barely hear it. “You can’t defeat this. It’s inevitable. It comes for all of us.” She starts to cry. “Sometimes it comes too soon.”

  I look up at Andres. He shrugs.

  “Caroline,” Andres says, “we’re going to go meet Deshaun and Kyle, who were also there that night. We’re all going to tackle this thing, because it’s not going to stop until we defeat it. And I think … I think you need to come with us.”

  “What?” I ask.

  Andres doesn’t back down. “Caroline is a part of this.” He doesn’t say more, but I know the rest: whether we like it or not.

  “You’re right,” I say. “Together, we can do it.”

  It doesn’t matter that none of us has any idea what we’re actually doing, but being together feels like a sort of plan. It feels better than just sitting around and waiting for the clown to strike again.

  I stand and hold out my hand to Caroline.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go. It’s time we ended this, once and for all.”

  She looks up at me. Then Andres. And for the first time this entire exchange, she looks like she actually sees us.

  “Okay,” she says finally. “Together.”

  She takes my hand. Her palm is wet with her tears.

  When I pull her up to standing, I see a kid by the swing set.

  He stares at us.

  And when he sees me looking back, his eyes flash blue.

  And his smile

  stretches

  ear

  to

  ear.

  He waves.

  I turn and start to run.

  “What are we going to do?” Kyle asks for the millionth time.

  We stand at the main entrance to the graveyard, the big gate stretching up behind us, pitch-black iron against a pale blue sky. April and Andres should be here soon. The world seems far too bright for all of this. Shouldn’t it be dark and stormy? Shouldn’t the terrible monsters only come out after midnight?

  Kyle looks around, and I know he isn’t just running from snakes or a clown.

  Not all monsters wait until midnight.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Kyle swallows. “I’m being chased by a killer clown who puts snakes in my bed. What do you think?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I reply. I don’t say anything more. I don’t know what else to say.

  Kyle looks at me. Things seem to click behind his eyes, and he looks away again.

  “I want to say this is the most scared I’ve ever been,” I say. I glance back to the graveyard. “But honestly … that night I got stuck in the graveyard, that was the worst.”

  I’ve never really talked about that night. Not even to Kyle, who was my best friend back then, just like now. He’d been sick the night of the hide-and-seek.

  “I’ve never felt so alone,” I say quietly. “I couldn’t find my way out, and no matter how much I called out, no one came. Until I started hearing …” I gulp and look back to the graves. “Until I started hearing the ghosts. They followed me everywhere. And they kept saying such terrible things. Like I would never escape, and no one cared, and I would be lost there forever.”

  Kyle is biting his lip, staring down at his shoes.

  “I had no idea,” he says.

  “Because I was too scared to tell you. I thought if I did, you’d make fun of me. It was bad enough that everyone else was laughing. I couldn’t stand the idea that you would too.”

  “I would never.”

  “I know. And you never did. And that helped. You just being there, never bringing it up. You helped me forget about it. But now … now I can’t forget about it anymore. I have to face it. I was too scared to, before. But with you and Andres and April, I don’t feel so afraid. I don’t feel like I’m facing it on my own.”

  I reach over and squeeze his shoulder.

  “We’re all facing scary things,” I continue. “When we went to high school, I started to feel like I was alone in the graveyard again. I thought you were getting distant. You know, not
inviting me over as much, doing all the sports. I thought it was because you were getting too cool to hang out with me.”

  He finally looks back to me, and I know then he realizes I’m not just talking about the snake or the clown or high school. I’d always been too scared to ask if things were okay at home, because I didn’t know how I could help. But now, we both have to fight our fears. Our true fears.

  “That’s not why I was distant. He’s getting meaner,” Kyle says. His eyes fill with tears, but he blinks them down. “I was doing everything I could to stay out of the house. I don’t know how much more I can take. Before it gets really bad.” He looks down.

  I swallow. It’s the very last thing I want to hear. Now that it’s said, there’s no hiding from it.

  “I didn’t know it was that bad,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry. You’re not alone. What can I do to help?”

  Kyle shakes his head.

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. I’ve known him most of my life. And I’ve never, ever heard him sound this scared.

  I pull him in for a hug.

  “It’s okay,” I say, more gently. I feel awkward and don’t know what’s the right thing to do or say. Because it’s not okay. None of this is even remotely okay. But I want him to know I’m here for him through it.

  He continues to not say anything. I step back, but I don’t let go of his shoulder.

  “When this is over,” I say. I pause. Will this be over? What could I possibly do or say to make this better? “When this is over, you can come stay at mine. You’ll never have to see him again. I swear it. My parents love you. They’ll totally adopt you.”

  “I don’t think it works like that,” he says. His voice sounds full of gravel.

  “I don’t care,” I reply. “I’ll make it work like that.”

  He finally looks at me. Finally. For real. And he’s no longer the friend I thought I was losing because he was getting too cool. He’s Kyle. My best friend, Kyle.

  “We have to get through this first,” he says.

  I nod. If nothing else, I feel resolute. I will figure this out. To save him. To save April. To save all of us.

  “We will,” I say.

  He wipes away his tears and nods to the road.

  “They’re here.”

  I glance over. And sure enough, there are Andres and April—and beside them is someone I never thought I’d see with them in a million years. Caroline.

  “What’s she doing here?” Kyle asks when they arrive. His voice is still gruff, but now it just makes him sound angry.

  “She’s a part of this,” April says defensively. “She’s being haunted too.”

  Kyle holds up his hands in surrender.

  “All good,” he says. “Sorry. I think we’re all just on edge.”

  April nods. Kyle looks to Andres. Reaches out and brushes his wet hair with a finger.

  “What happened to you?” he asks, much more gently.

  “Shark in the swimming pool,” Andres replies. He says it so matter-of-factly that I almost chuckle. Almost. Except he’s definitely, deadly serious about it.

  Kyle nods.

  April looks to me.

  “What do we do now?” she asks.

  It’s the question I’ve been fearing. Because I don’t have an answer. I only have what the stories have told me to do, and so far, the stories have all lied. Facing our fears didn’t do anything but get me hurt, and I have a terrible feeling that it will only get worse.

  “I’m not really sure,” I admit. I want to apologize for letting them down, for not knowing what to do. Then I look at Kyle and remember our talk. Maybe this isn’t just about facing our fears or understanding them. “I thought at first … I thought maybe we just needed to face our fears. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe we have to stand up to them. Prove that we’re no longer afraid.”

  “There’s no way I can stand up to a shark,” Andres says. He drops down to a crouch. “We’re doomed. We are so totally doomed.”

  “I mean, at least you just have to worry about sharks,” April says. “All you have to do is stay out of the water.”

  “All water!” Andres yelps. “With my luck, I’m going to have a shark jump out of my drinking glass tonight.”

  I can’t help it; I giggle a little bit. Andres looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s going to be angry, but then he grins sheepishly.

  “I guess this means I have a good reason not to shower anymore, though. Right?”

  “You do,” Kyle says, clearly on his side. “Though maybe a shower now and then …”

  We all laugh, but there isn’t a lot of humor in it. If we don’t do something soon, none of us will be alive long enough to worry about things like showering.

  “We have to defeat this. We have to face our fears and put them to rest,” I say. “Together. The five of us. Somehow.”

  “Maybe we can go back to the grave?” April asks. “Maybe there’s another clue. Something we missed.”

  “There’s nothing there,” Kyle says. “We’ve looked it over a dozen times.”

  An idea sparks in my head. I turn to Caroline. She looks like she’s only hearing half the conversation—she has her arms crossed tight around her chest, gripping her shoulders like she’s freezing cold.

  “Caroline,” I say. “Did you take something that first night? From the box. In the grave.”

  “I …” she begins. She looks everywhere but at me. Then she unclenches her hands from her shoulders and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

  She hands it over to me without a word.

  I glance around at the others, who have all huddled in. They nod for me to open it.

  I do.

  It’s a photograph.

  A woman. She’s familiar …

  “Who is this?” I ask.

  I look up to Caroline. She stares up at the graveyard with fear and pain clear on her face.

  “My mom,” she whispers after a while. “That was … that was supposed to be the photo from her obituary.”

  Caroline’s statement is a punch to the chest. I look around, but my friends seem just as shocked as I do.

  “When did …?” I ask. I can’t finish the question. I had no idea her mother passed away.

  “Last year,” she replies. “Just after summer break started.”

  “I didn’t know,” I whisper.

  “No one did,” she replies. “My dad decided not to run the obituary at the last minute. Didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want anyone to pity us.”

  I can only stare at her in shock.

  Is this why she acted so mean to me? She was hurting. She was hurting because no one knew her pain, and she had no way of reaching out.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Two words I never thought I’d say to her, once we broke apart. Now I mean them more than ever.

  I go on. “I had no idea. I wish I did. I would have been there for you.”

  My friends echo the sentiment.

  The spell on her seems to break, just a little—when she looks at me, her eyes are clear.

  “Thank you,” she says. “That … that means a lot. Really.”

  She takes a deep breath and steadies herself.

  “I think I know what we need to do,” she says. “At least, where we need to start.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  She nods. “Deshaun said that we need to stand up to our fears, right? Well, ever since my mom died and I saw her buried, I’ve been terrified to go back to her grave. That’s what this … this thing … has been showing me over and over. The grave. The feeling of dirt closing in. I haven’t been able to sleep since we visited here. I keep thinking I’m being buried alive.” She pauses, looks to the graveyard. “This is the graveyard where she was buried. Maybe we need to start here.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. I put a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t shrug it off. “I mean, that’s a lot. I totally understand if you don’t want to do this.
”

  She nods, resolute. “I’m sure. I need to put this to rest. All of it.”

  This is the last place I want to be.

  This is the last place I want to be, yet here I am, with the last people I thought I’d be with, trudging up the long, winding drive toward the place that has haunted me every moment of my life for the last year.

  Every step, and I feel the walls of dirt closing in.

  Every breath, and I feel the gravel clogging my lungs.

  But I refuse to stop. I refuse to give in.

  I want to remember my mom the right away. Her laughter and her smiles and the amount of love she had for me. I don’t want to remember her like this, don’t want to relate her to so much fear and pain.

  I am going to end this fear.

  I look to April.

  We are going to end this.

  I never thought of asking her or any of them for help. I knew they had been facing something after that night in the graveyard. But this last year, I had learned to be alone. Until I realized there was no way to face this on my own.

  I’ve been trying all this time.

  I’ve been failing.

  I take them to the one place in this entire graveyard I’m afraid to go. The one place I worried the note I received would lead me. Not back to the grave with the jack-o’-lantern and the secrets. Someplace far more terrifying. At least for me.

  My mother’s grave sits in a small grove of trees.

  She loved the forest. My dad wanted her to always feel like she was in one.

  We reach her grave and I can barely stand. I slouch heavily against April. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t let go.

  I stare at the headstone.

  My vision swims.

  I can’t be reading that correctly.

  I blink, rub my hands over my eyes.

  No. No way.

  “It’s time,” comes a voice. My heart drops when I hear it.

  “Mom?”

  She stands at my side, wearing a long white dress. Her hair hangs heavy around her shoulders, as if she was caught in the rain. She looks exactly as I remember.

  When she looks at me, though, her eyes flash blue.