The Collector

by KR Alexander

  For those who want to know what goes bump in the night

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

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  About the Author

  Copyright

  This was not how I wanted summer vacation to end: driving with my mom and my sister through cornfields on our way to my grandmother’s house. Not for a fun weekend visit, but for good.

  I was ready to be bored.

  I was ready to be lonely.

  But I wasn’t ready to face off against an evil power that wanted me dead.

  “Do I get my own room?” Anna asked when we drove down Grandma Jeannie’s driveway. “Josie snores.”

  I glared at her from the front seat. Sometimes my little sister could be such a pain.

  “Yes, Anna,” Mom said. “You both get your own rooms. It’s an upgrade, see?”

  “You need internet to get upgrades,” I muttered, crossing my arms. Grandma Jeannie didn’t have any internet service. My phone barely even worked out here.

  “Josie …” Mom began, but she didn’t finish her warning. She’d already told me many times not to make a fuss, because this was hard on everyone.

  Yeah. Sure.

  She didn’t have to start sixth grade at a new school in the middle of nowhere.

  Grandma’s house came into view. It was huge—much bigger than our apartment in Chicago had been. This place had three whole stories, with big windows on each side and a porch that wrapped all the way around. A big yard stretched out on all sides, and past the swing set and small apple orchard was a thick forest that looked like it was filled with brambles and secrets. Even now, on a warm evening, the trees looked dark and cold.

  The front door opened and Grandma Jeannie came out. She was shaky and leaned heavily on the screen door, but she was smiling. Even though I really didn’t want to be here, seeing her made me smile, too. It was rare to see her smile like she actually saw us.

  “Oh, my girls!” she called when we got out of the car. She took a shaky step toward us. “I’m so happy you made it!”

  Mom jogged up the steps to hug Grandma while Anna and I got our bags from the back of the car. There weren’t many—Mom had shipped a few boxes ahead of us, and the rest of our life was in storage.

  “Hi, Grandma Jeannie!” Anna said, running up to hug her. I was right behind.

  “Oh, my girls,” Grandma said again. I looked at Mom; her smile looked forced as she watched Grandma. But then Grandma looked back to Mom. “How was the drive, dear?”

  “It was fine, Mom. I think we’re all a bit tired, though.”

  “Well then, I have some sun tea in the kitchen. Why don’t we have a drink out here before dinner?”

  Mom agreed and went inside to get the tea while Grandma led Anna and me to the patio table.

  She’s an old woman, Mom had reminded us a million times on the ride there. Her memory’s fading, and she might not always make sense. Just be patient with her and act like you know what she’s talking about even if you don’t. That way she won’t get too flustered.

  “Now, girls,” Grandma Jeannie told us once we were settled, her voice a strong whisper. “There are three rules for living here. One, never leave your windows open after dark, even if it’s hot. Two, no dolls in the house. And three, never, ever go by the house in the woods. That’s where Beryl lives.”

  She looked out to the forest when she said it. I stared, too. It gave me a chill. Anything could be hiding out there. Whenever we’d visited before, she’d never let us out of her sight. But she’d never mentioned a house before. Or Beryl.

  Who or what was Beryl?

  I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to upset her. It was clear from her eyes that it upset her enough just to say the name.

  “Don’t worry, Grandma,” I assured her, patting her arm. “We’ll follow the rules.”

  Mom came out then and handed us the sun tea. I didn’t really want it—I wanted soda—but Grandma Jeannie didn’t have that, so I needed to get used to it now.

  Grandma and Mom talked about the drive for a bit. I tuned them out. I was trying to prepare myself for tomorrow, my first day at a new school in a new town. It made my stomach hurt to think about it. How was I going to find my way around? How would I make friends? What if the kids made fun of me because I wasn’t from around here? I’d already stopped worrying about what Grandma had said—her rules were strange, but that was just how things were here. The only thing I could do was follow along.

  I only tuned back in when Grandma started talking about Grandpa Tom.

  “He’ll be right down, you know,” Grandma said. “He’ll be so happy to know you’re here.”

  Mom went quiet. Anna shot me a shocked Can you believe she said that? look.

  Grandpa Tom had passed away five years ago. I barely remembered him.

  “Let’s get you inside, Mom,” our mother said. “I think maybe you could use a nap.”

  “Tom will be so happy,” Grandma continued. She let Mom help her up and guide her toward the house.

  “Girls, could you get the rest of the bags?” Mom asked. I knew she just wanted us to keep busy. She hated seeing Grandma like this.

  It seemed to be happening more and more often. That was one reason we were here, to make sure Grandma wasn’t in danger. Mom was worried she’d fall down the stairs or hurt herself. And when Mom lost her job, it made sense for us to come here. Or at least it made sense to the adults. It still didn’t make sense to me.

  All we knew was that Grandma wasn’t entirely with us anymore. Some days she was better than others.

  And we also knew not to go into the woods.

  As soon as Anna and I were a safe distance away, heading to the car while Mom led Grandma inside, Anna asked, “Do you think she’s okay?”

  I shrugged.

  “That was weird about Grandpa, right?”

  I shrugged again, wishing she’d get the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it.

  But she went on. “Who do you think Beryl is?”

  “You ask too many questions,” I replied. I started lugging the suitcases from the trunk while she grabbed another bag from the back seat.

  A breeze blew from the woods, and I heard a noise that sent another wave of chills down my back. I stopped what I was doing and looked into the trees. Nothing moved.

  “What are you looking at?” Anna asked. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked her.

  “What?”

  I looked away from the woods, back to her.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Come on, let’s get these inside.”

  I didn’t want to be out there any longer.

  That noise …

  I swore I’d heard an old woman laughing.

  “Josie?”

  Anna’s voice was quiet. But since it came unexpectedly at me through the darkness of my ro
om, it nearly made me scream.

  I was in bed, staring at the moon out the window and still worrying about what tomorrow would be like. She was supposed to be asleep. We had school in the morning.

  “What do you want?” I grumbled. I sat up and looked at her—she was peering through the crack in my doorway. I could see her stuffed bear dangling from her hand.

  She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she looked back, as if she was worried that Mom was going to catch her. Then she stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

  “I was wondering if I could sleep in here?” she asked.

  I groaned. My first night with a big room all to myself, and Anna was having nightmares again.

  “Anna, we already talked about your bad dreams.”

  She shook her head before I finished my sentence, then crept up to my bed.

  “It’s not dreams,” she said. “I haven’t even fallen asleep yet.”

  Another groan from me. We’d had that talk, too, how sometimes when you dream you don’t think you’re dreaming, but it still isn’t real. Anna had a hard time distinguishing reality from dreams. Mom said I was just like her at that age, but I didn’t believe it.

  “You’re seven years old,” I said. “You’re too big for bad dreams.”

  “I wasn’t dreaming!” she yelled. Then she slapped a hand to her mouth while I shushed her. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I said I wasn’t dreaming. I heard something. From the woods.”

  That made me sit up straighter.

  Part of the reason I was still up was from thinking about school. But another part, a part I didn’t want to admit, was that I couldn’t stop hearing things from outside. Coyotes, I told myself. Or owls. I’d watched enough nature documentaries to know that a lot of animals woke up at night to hunt, especially in the forest. The noises were natural. Even if they were scary.

  “They’re just animals,” I said.

  “Animals don’t laugh,” she whispered back.

  “Some hyenas do.” I knew there weren’t hyenas in Illinois. But she didn’t need to know that.

  “They weren’t animals,” she replied. “I know it. I think they were talking about us.”

  I shivered.

  “Are you sure you weren’t asleep?” I asked.

  She shook her head again, her stuffed bear hugged tight. “Positive.”

  “Fiiiiiiine.” I rolled over and pulled back the covers for her. “But this is the last time. I still haven’t forgiven you for telling Mom I snore.”

  “But you do,” Anna whispered. “You’re like a train.”

  I couldn’t help it—I giggled. She could be so serious sometimes.

  Anna giggled, too, and curled over.

  “Goodnight, Josie,” she said.

  “Goodnight, Anna. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  “They won’t bite me—they’ll be too busy nibbling on you!”

  I giggled again, but I didn’t fall asleep right away.

  I lay there for a while, listening as her breathing slowed down and occasionally snuffled—if anyone snored, it was her. I couldn’t get what she’d said out of my head. I think they were talking about us. I knew it was stupid to believe her. She’d probably fallen asleep without knowing it and had slipped into a strange dream.

  But that didn’t make me feel much better. I’d been hearing something all day, too.

  Something from the woods.

  Something from the one place we weren’t supposed to go. And if it was calling to Anna, too, that meant it was real.

  And it wanted us.

  I knew it was a bad dream.

  I knew it was a bad dream because I wouldn’t have walked into the woods on my own at night.

  Still … I could smell the sharp tang of crushed berries and sap, could hear the snap of branches under my feet and the howl of distant wind. I could feel the biting cold on my skin. I could taste the fear in my throat as I walked.

  I didn’t know why I was dreaming of the woods behind Grandma Jeannie’s house. I didn’t know why I wasn’t waking up. I just knew I had to keep walking. If I stopped walking, she would find me.

  If she found me, I was dead.

  The woods were dark but the moon above was full, so I could see the faint path at my feet. Maybe I should go a different way. But no, if I did that, I’d get lost, and then she’d definitely find me, and I would definitely be dead. I had to keep moving. Had to stay warm.

  I had to find … something.

  But what?

  Keep walking. Keep walking.

  Something snapped behind me. A branch? A bone? I turned around. My heart was beating so loud and fast I could hear it. A shadow moved between the trees. The flash of teeth. Of glowing white eyes.

  I ran.

  I ran, and she ran after me.

  I could hear her now, crashing through the trees. Calling out. Calling my name.

  “Josieee. Josieee.”

  She was getting closer. I ran faster. Branches tore at my legs and hit my face, but I didn’t stop. She was so close. I could hear her breath. I could smell her breath. I could feel her breath, burning the back of my neck.

  There.

  Up ahead.

  Through the trees.

  There was a light. A window. A house.

  Grandma Jeannie’s—it had to be. She would keep me safe. Grandma Jeannie always kept us safe.

  I ran harder, and the creature behind me was howling now, howling and laughing. Like a wolf. Or a hyena.

  Or an old woman.

  I was so close to the light. To home.

  But when I burst through the trees, I knew I was wrong.

  It wasn’t Grandma Jeannie’s house.

  It was old and the paint was peeling. The yard was overgrown and filled with broken statues.

  I didn’t have time to care. I ran up the path to the front porch. The lights were on. Someone had to be home.

  I pounded on the front door.

  “Please!” I yelled. “Please let me in! She’s coming for me! Please, help!”

  A shadow moved behind the curtain.

  The creature howled behind me.

  The door opened.

  I looked at the person who opened it … and it wasn’t a person at all.

  It was a doll. A doll the same height as me, with blank eyes and a sad smile.

  “Welcome home, Josie,” she said.

  Before I could scream, before I could run, the doll’s cold fingers wrapped around my wrist, and she yanked me inside.

  “You look like you didn’t sleep well,” my mom said at breakfast.

  I shook my head and poured myself some more orange juice.

  “Annie slept in my bed,” I said, casting a glare at my little sister. “She hogged the covers.”

  “Only because you snored!” she replied.

  Mom looked at the two of us. She was clearly confused.

  “Why didn’t you sleep in your own room?” she asked.

  “I heard—”

  “She was being a baby,” I interrupted. I didn’t want Anna telling Mom about the voices from the woods. Mom was stressed out enough already. She didn’t need anything else on her mind. “She was having bad dreams.”

  “I didn’t!”

  But Mom clearly believed me. She walked over and gave Anna a hug. “Oh, honey. Everyone gets bad dreams. Especially when they’re staying in a new place.”

  I didn’t want to tell her I was having bad dreams, too. Neither of them needed to know.

  “Where’s Grandma?” I asked instead. I didn’t want to talk about dreams anymore.

  “She’s out back. She likes having her breakfast outside.”

  “Can I have my breakfast outside?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer right away.

  “I guess, sweetie. Just don’t bother your grandma.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, and picked up my cereal and juice and walked to the back deck.

  Grandma Jeannie was sitting on a rocking chair when I
opened the back door. She didn’t look at me when I sat down on the chair beside her. I knew the chair used to be Grandpa Tom’s.

  For a while we both sat out there, eating and watching the birds fly around the backyard. The air was already warm and sweet, and when I looked at the woods, I couldn’t figure out why I’d been so scared of them yesterday, or why they’d given me nightmares. They were pretty. Sure, there might be wild animals in there, but that wasn’t scary. That was nature.

  “Today’s my first day of school,” I said. I looked at Grandma. “Did you ever go to school here?”

  She didn’t answer at first. I wondered if maybe today was going to be one of her “bad” days.

  Finally she said, “I grew up in this house.” She took a sip of her tea. “And I went to the same school that you are.” When she looked at me and smiled, it looked a little sad. It sort of reminded me of the creepy doll from my dream—sad, and trapped. “You’re following in my footsteps.”

  “Did Mom go to school here?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

  “No, Josie. We sent your mother to a private school over in Joliet. We thought it would be better for her.”

  It was the same answer Mom had given me.

  “If it’s better, why don’t I go there?”

  “Because it’s too late to register you.” Grandma Jeannie reached over and patted my arm. “Don’t worry. It’s a good school. You’ll make plenty of friends.”

  I didn’t want to talk back, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Right—the school wasn’t good enough for my mom, but it would be good enough for Anna and me. This was going to be great. I wondered if all my “new friends” would be the imaginary kind.

  “I just want you to promise me one thing,” Grandma said.

  “What?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t go into the woods.”

  It was so strange for her to mention the woods when we were talking about school, I almost laughed. But Grandma sounded very serious, so I didn’t.

  “I know the rules, Grandma,” I assured her.

  “Of course you do. But I’m your grandmother. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

  “What’s so dangerous about the woods, anyway? They’re beautiful. We went to the parks in Chicago all the time.”

  I knew I shouldn’t say it. It was as close to talking back as I’d ever come with my grandma. But I really wasn’t looking forward to school, and I was upset enough that I couldn’t hold back.