Banshee Box Set

by Sara Clancy

  He flinched as Meg leaned forward and rested her arms on the back of his chair, an inch from his skull. “So that’s what all the fuss is about, huh? Honestly, I expected something more impressive.”

  Benton watched as his mother’s eyes widened. She glanced to her husband.

  “You know about his night terrors?” his father, Theodore, asked.

  A girl who Benton recognized from his biology class, sitting with her back pressed against the side of the bus a few seats in front of him, was the first to respond.

  “Night terrors? I had a cousin who had those. He grew out of them when he was little, though.”

  Zack reached across the aisle and dumped his large hand onto Benton’s skull. Nicole flattened herself against the seat to avoid Zack’s forearm and glared at him. Ignoring her, Zack used his grip on Benton’s head to shake him like a rattle.

  “Aw, Benny-boy’s a late bloomer,” he grinned. “Don’t shame him.”

  In unspoken unison, Benton and Nicole both smacked their hands into Zack’s forearm, dislodging the huge boy’s grip and forcing aside his long limb. Zack only laughed as he flopped back into his seat.

  Danny giggled as she poked his cheek with one finger. “You made him blush. Look how red he is.”

  That was enough to get questions and smartass remarks hurdling around the limited space of the bus. Benton tried his best to ignore them and the apologetic look Nicole was throwing his way, and he focused instead on repairing the damage Zack had done to his hair.

  “Benton,” his mother’s voice swiftly cut through the chatter. “Are you okay, sweetie?” No sooner was the question out, that his mother shifted her gaze to Dorothy. It didn’t matter where she was looking, Benton knew the following comment was meant for his ears. “I hope that he didn’t distract you. I’m sure he won’t fall asleep again.”

  “It’s fine, Cheyanne,” Dorothy insisted.

  Beside him, Nicole smiled brightly and called down the aisle. “Don’t worry Mrs. Bertrand, I have you covered.” She reached into the picnic basket on the floor, pulled out another thermos, and rattled it slightly in the air. “I brought some coffee for him.”

  While both of his parents smiled at her, neither of their expressions had any real warmth to it. Still, they thanked her, cast one more concerned look at Benton, and turned back to the front.

  “Why don’t your parents like me?” Nicole fumed quickly.

  “Who cares?” Benton muttered, instantly reaching for the metal container.

  “I’m exceedingly likable,” she said, too distracted to release her grip as Benton tugged on the thermos. “Some would even say adorable.”

  “You tell ‘em. Please give me the coffee,” Benton rushed in one breath.

  “Huh? Oh! Here's my Canada Day Special.”

  He slowly pried the thermos out of her hand. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a red velvet, white chocolate latte.”

  Before he could ask again, Danny leaned forward once more. “It’s red and white, like the flag.”

  Sitting in the seat in front of them, Meg twisted around and tucked some of her short, dark hair behind her ear. “Nicole makes up something like that every year.” Her eyes brightened as she asked, “I don’t suppose you brought snacks?”

  Nicole’s response was opening a floodgate. Benton and all his strange behavior was instantly forgotten, as everyone surged towards them to claim one of the assorted, baked goods that Nicole continued to pull from her picnic basket. He immersed himself deeper into the corner of the window-seat chair, attempting to get out of the way and protect his drink. Sipping the still steaming sweet concoction, he popped in his earphones, selected a song on his phone, and just watched Nicole preen under the attention.

  The smile on his lips died, as a wave of frost descended on them like a heavy fog. It seeped into his bones and spread out to infest his flesh, leaving him shivering in its wake. He turned his head to watch the world passing by outside his window, desperately trying to pinpoint what had changed. Why he now felt like he had been swallowed by an arctic wind.

  The noonday sun bathed the world in a buttery glow and pressed a layer of heat against the glass. He could feel it. He could tell that the air around him hadn’t shifted at all. But still, he couldn’t stop shivering. The road twisted out before them, curving down into the valley created by the rolling hills. A scattering of trees rose tall, lined up along the crystal stream that glistened along the very bottom of the pit, their leaves only just beginning to turn golden orange with the coming of autumn.

  Shadows danced across him, and he squinted into the glare of the window to spot the large carnivorous birds. They swept past on silent wings and lined the towering branches, the sunlight glimmering off the twin tufts on either side of their heads. His brow furrowed when he noticed that some of the shadows didn’t have the tufts that gave the great horned owl their name.

  He pressed closer to the glass and craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the creatures that weaved through the dying branches. Their numbers made the branches bow and bounce. Dead leaves shook loose, creating a crimson rain that captured the sunlight as it fell. The debris twisted and turned. The shadowy creatures came with them.

  Benton jolted back in his seat. The dark shapes didn’t fall. They simply existed in midair, peeking out from behind the leaves to watch him with penetrating eyes. As soon as he spotted them, they were easier to notice. They lurked behind tree trunks, littered the branches high above, and peered through the layers of lush grass. Everywhere the light couldn’t reach became a hiding place for the fathomless beings. Their glowing eyes followed the bus as it passed.

  Benton’s heart throbbed painfully and his body temperature dropped the longer he met the unknown entity’s gaze. His fingers grew numb, and he clutched the thermos close to him, attempting to force some of the lingering heat back into his skin. Pain tingled along his feet, the skin becoming raw and tender with an icy feeling in them. Forcing himself to sit back, he squeezed his eyes shut. Warmth still swept through him with every trembling breath, but now more mildly, as a stream instead of a gushing torrent.

  The sunlight that played across his face slowly seeped away, taking with it the last traces of heat that loitered in the air. Refusing to open his eyes, Benton hurriedly gulped down his drink. The liquid burned his lips where it made contact and scorched a path to the pit of his stomach. For a brief, incredible moment, he felt it slosh out against the blizzard within his core. But it wasn’t enough. Bit by bit, the coffee cooled within him until it was like sleet lining his insides.

  He jolted as one of his earphones tugged free, the music replaced by Nicole’s worried whisper. “Benton?”

  All of the conversations happening around them continued without hesitation, and he figured that everyone must have already gone back to their seats, treats in hand. He didn’t know if anyone else was still hanging around near them, but he didn’t want to look.

  “I’m okay,” he mumbled and took another sip.

  “Your lips are going blue.”

  She kept her voice low, relying on the limited space between them to ensure that she wasn’t heard by anyone else. It made her breath ghost across his skin like a tropical breeze. Shivering, he hurriedly drank more of the fluid. It felt like ice water had replaced his blood, and the pricking, numb sensation was quickly working its way up his legs. His face began to ache with the effort he took in squeezing his eyelids shut so tightly.

  “How long was I asleep?” he asked.

  “Not long,” she said before catching onto the real meaning of his question.

  The plastic covering of the seat squeaked as she slid closer to him, pressing her side against his. Even through the layers of clothing separating them, her body felt like a blazing bonfire, and he leaned in closer for the slight relief. He could feel the inhuman eyes upon him. Watching him. Almost as if the living shadows were right next to him. He longed to look, to assure himself that they weren’t that close. B
ut he couldn’t shake the feeling that one more glance and he might just die of hypothermia.

  “We just got on the highway,” she said like an apology. “It’ll still be a few hours.”

  Benton jerked when he felt something touch his arm. Heat radiated from Nicole’s hand, burning his skin, a painful salvation. She inched her fingers along his palm, coaxing him to release his grip on the thermos and accept the comfort she offered. He tilted his hand slightly and she threaded her fingers with his own. Instantly, he clenched tightly to the searing warmth and released a shaky sigh as the agonizing throb began to soften.

  His skin crawled, as the sensation of being watched intensified. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his eyes closed as his paranoid thoughts began to whirl out of control, conjuring up a thousand options of what could be lurking on the other side of the window. Nicole pressed as close to him as she could, without drawing any unwanted attention, and he quickly chugged down the coffee. Its temperature seemed to climb with every swallow until he was sure his throat was blistering. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep the chill from returning. Sitting as still as his quivering body would allow, he longed once again for them to be alone. It was better when it was just the two of them, when he could tell her what was happening, what he was seeing and feeling, without worrying about being overheard. Now, all he could do was clench his jaw shut, and endure the concern that he felt drifting from her like waves.

  The hours stretched on and he restlessly shifted in his seat with growing discomfort. With time, it wasn’t just the cold. Two very large coffees, in a short period of time, kept him awake but weren’t very compatible with long car trips. While it served as a good distraction from the hateful gazes and his skin turning to ice, the more he focused on it, the more desperately he needed to pee. Nicole’s hand felt like the only point of reality left for him, and he clung to it above all else. A shaky sigh of pure relief left his trembling lips as the bus came to a halt. He had made it.

  “Okay, guys,” Dorothy called out over the restless crowd. “Same rules as always. Move in groups, only go to the store and back, and you have fifteen minutes max.”

  Benton’s insides churned and his grip tightened on Nicole’s hand. “We’re not there?”

  “No,” she whispered. “We’re just making a pit stop.”

  He could barely bring himself to breathe the words, “How long have we got until we get there?”

  It didn’t matter that she squeezed his hand and sympathetically rubbed his forearm with her free one. Her reply still gutted him.

  “We’re about halfway.”

  He snapped around to face her, the moment of dread flinging his eyes open before he remembered why that would be a bad idea. They had been enclosed for so long that the minimal light stung his eyes as they struggled to adjust. Despite his fears, he didn’t find himself face to face with a glaring shadow.

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one in need of a little relief, since the bus was quickly emptying. No one paid them any attention, but he still kept his voice low anyway.

  “I don’t want to be here,” he said.

  She met his soft tone, “Me neither.” A warm smile crossed her face. “Here’s the plan. You hit the restroom and get back on the bus. I’ll see what I can find in the restaurant that can warm you up. Okay?”

  He was too cold and uncomfortable to even reply, so he simply nodded, yanked the remaining earpiece free, and tossed it onto the seat. Mercifully, she didn’t let go of his hand as they made their way out of the bus.

  Blundering down the few stairs, Benton got off the bus and got his first look at the truck stop. Sitting atop a sea of concrete, the structure was relatively new, with only fifteen years of wear at the most. The main parts, behind two rows of gas pumps big enough to accommodate long haul trucks, were covered with fake wood planks to give it the appearance of a log cabin. A blue neon diner sign was placed in the window, the gathering gloom turning the light into a smudged halo. Narrow standalone cabins speckled the clearing on either side of the main building, most of them drenched in the gathering shadows. A sickly hum above them made him lift his gaze, and he noticed the large neon sign marking the place as ‘Lost Woods Motel.’

  As a bid to distract him, Nicole had been continuously talking. He was vaguely aware of her telling him that the motel had been opened as a way to give people walking the road, a safe place to spend the night. But all of the finer details were lost to the mist in his brain. The rest of what she was saying floated as he looked up to see the owls that swamped the dark sky and filled the surrounding trees like a swarm of insects. Nicole took a few steps. Benton didn’t. She noticed quickly and turned to give him a questioning look.

  “I thought you said the trip was only a few hours,” he mumbled.

  She tilted her head in confusion. “It is.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, the warmth of the air drawing down into his core, as he closed his eyes.

  “It’s not dusk, is it?” he asked, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat.

  “Benton, it’s two PM,” she said gently. She edged closer to him and lowered her voice into a whisper. “What do you see?”

  As he forced his eyes open, he looked over the swirling darkness that lingered over the area like a living creature. The sudden rush of sheer dread that the sight provoked, made him dizzy. If it weren’t for his desperate need to get into a restroom, he would have given into his urge to rush back into the bus and curl into a tight ball. Barely able to bring himself to meet her gaze, he shook his head quickly, his voice cracking as he whispered.

  “This isn’t a good place.”

  She quickly came back to his side and recaptured his frozen hand.

  “In and out,” she promised.

  He nodded. Together, they raced across the lot. The door to the diner opened with the tinkle of a bell above the door. Instantly, they were met by the smoky scents of burgers and fries. While there were only ten teenagers in total, they seemed to fill the limited space that served as both a souvenir and a gas station shop. With an impressive amount of noise, they grabbed at bags of junk food, and studied the odds and ends that filled every tourist trap. Meeting Nicole’s gaze, he yanked his wallet out of his pockets and pulled out a few bills.

  “Coffee, please,” he said.

  She was already moving towards the annexed diner as she snatched the bills out of his hand. “Don’t take this as approval of your addiction.”

  Benton rolled his eyes, but enjoyed the attempt at lightening the mood. A quick scan of the room and he found the sign for the toilets off in the corner. The bathroom was old but clean, with only two stalls and pale walls. Even though he had to impatiently wait for his turn, there was still a line when he was done. He was washing up when he discovered just how good their hot water system was.

  The steaming water sloshing over his frozen hands felt incredible and he wallowed in the luxury of having his blood running into his fingers once again. Once they felt warm and plump, he pulled off his sunglasses and washed his face. The sensation made pins-and-needles crackle across his lips and cheeks. He kept splashing the water over his face until the pain subsided and he was feeling less like a living snowman.

  Turning off the tap, he blindly tugged a few paper towels from the dispenser and dried himself off. The rough edges of the paper scraped across his cheek when the sensation of being watched came back with a higher intensity. His now sensitive skin made the shift in temperature instantly noticeable. It was an encroaching warmth, as if someone was standing right behind him, almost draped against his curled spine. A heavy sigh brushed past his ear, the moisture of the breath clinging to his skin.

  Benton whirled around, one arm striking out to shove back the person crowded against him. The bathroom was empty. The low drone of the florescent lights broke the silence as the lingering traces of a person’s body heat evaporated from his back. Throwing the wadded paper into the sink, he strode towards the door, grabbing the doorknob jus
t as a hand latched around his ankle.

  One swift jerk and he was wretched off of his feet. He was barely able to break his fall as he was slammed down painfully against the tiles. Before he could understand what had just happened, he was being dragged back. He clawed at the floor but couldn’t find something to grip. Hands grappled their way up his legs, their fingers digging against his tender flesh with an iron grasp. He thrashed out, kicking sharply, but his feet never found anything solid.

  The hands reached his hips and easily flipped him onto his back. He bolted upright and saw her. A woman was crawling her way out of the floor, her movements swift but broken as she hurled herself higher up his body. Muddy clumps of earth dripped from her skin and thumped against his stomach. Her hair, matted and reeking of rot, swayed with the jolts of her limbs. Rearing up to level her face with Benton’s, the woman opened her mouth and spewed wet earth over his chest.

  It hit him like arctic water, startling him out of his stunned state and igniting his survival instinct. He shoved her off and surged to his feet. The soles of his shoes slipped and skidded over the muck covered tiles making him stumble as he tried to flee to the door. Flinging it open, he threw himself out, smacked into someone, and turned around to catch sight of the woman crawling after him just as the door swung shut.

  “What the hell, Benny-boy?” Zack snapped, his voice lingering somewhere between annoyed and amused. “It’s a door. You’ve used them before.”

  Breathing heavily, he swiped his trembling hands over his chest. His jacket was clean. His eyes locked onto the bathroom door.

  “What is wrong with you?” Zack asked.

  He walked around Benton and opened the door before Benton could do more than grunt in protest. The brightly lit room was empty, the tiled floor clean. Zack glanced over his shoulder. Whatever he was going to say faded along with his smirk.

  “Seriously,” Zack’s voice became concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I tripped,” Benton muttered. “Sorry.”

  He barely took a step forward before Zack’s hand grabbed his forearm.