Before I Disappear

by Danielle Stinson

  A voice.

  Young and afraid. It cuts me right to the bone.

  “Help,” my brother calls to me. “Help.”

  TWELVE

  My heart is a drum in my ears as I follow Charlie’s cries to a bluff carved out of the forest. There’s a fifteen-foot drop to the river below. It batters the rocks, sending up ribbons of white spray that splatter the ledge under my feet.

  I see her right away. The little girl’s red coat is hard to miss.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach when I realize my mistake. All the strength goes out of me. I’m dropping down to the bluff when the scene in front of me crystalizes.

  The girl is in trouble. She’s clinging to a boulder in the middle of the river as the water rushes past her on all sides. She’s eleven. Maybe twelve. It’s hard to tell how deep the water is around her. With a current this strong, it doesn’t really matter.

  The girl loses her grip on the wet stone. She slides a few inches deeper into the water. Even from this distance, I can see her arms shaking. Every second she clings to that rock is an act of pure willpower.

  I scramble down the side of the bluff to the riverbank. “Hold on!”

  Wide hazel eyes meet mine. The girl’s lips are two blue slashes in a deathly pale face. She’s in bad shape. She’s going to lose this fight with the river soon. Unless I can figure out a way to get her out of there.

  Several yards above the girl’s boulder, a tree lies on its side, forming a rough bridge over the water. I strip off my jacket and apron and lay them down on the sand. On second thought, I pick up Ian’s rope and make my way to the tangled mass of roots at the base of the fallen tree.

  Bits of rotted bark slough off under my fingernails as I pull myself up onto the log. It’s not high—barely more than a few feet above the river. Nothing like Devil’s Tooth. Too bad my body doesn’t seem to realize that. Tremors run through my arms. I glance around one more time for another way. When that fails, I force myself into a crawl.

  The ground disappears beneath me as I inch my way toward the girl in the middle of the river. Icy foam shoots into my eyes. The rushing water below pulls at me with almost magnetic force. I keep my gaze locked on the wood under my hands until I’m roughly halfway across. I let out a breath and look down.

  “I’m going to get you out of there,” I tell the girl five feet below.

  She’s wet to her skin and shaking like a leaf, but she grits her teeth, lifts her chin, and nods. It’s gutsy. A burst of admiration cuts through my fear.

  I’m racking my brain for some way out of this when I remember the rope around my shoulders. I pull it over my neck and quickly work it into a loop around my waist. To my left, a rough knob sticks out of the trunk. With steady fingers, I fashion the other end into a lasso and slip it over the knob.

  In the few seconds this takes, the girl’s condition goes from bad to worse. Her mouth hangs slack. She isn’t shaking anymore.

  She rests her cheek against the stone and closes her eyes. I stare down at this little girl, wet and ragged and fighting to survive, and suddenly, it isn’t a stranger I see. It’s Charlie. The bruise on his face and the cuts on his knuckles as he held on to that egg in his hand.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, shoving my fear behind the wall inside of me where it won’t get in the way.

  She makes a courageous effort to focus. “B-B-Becca.”

  “I’ve got you, Becca, okay?”

  Her eyes roll back before fluttering closed again. Helplessly, I watch her arms give out until she’s submerged up to the waist. Tremors rack her body, but she just holds on to that rock with a bravery most grown adults can’t match. And it won’t do her a damn bit of good.

  My fingers dig into the rotting wood so hard it hurts.

  Something moves on the ledge above me. My head jerks up, and then three things happen at once.

  Becca lets go.

  I scream her name.

  And someone claps me right between the shoulder blades, pushing me headfirst into the river.

  I hit the water, and the water hits right back. Cold. It’s so cold. On instinct, I reach out and yank Becca toward me. We break the surface in a rush of foam and light. The current is a battering ram. The rope around my waist the only thing keeping us from being swept away. I search with my toes, but the bottom is too far down to reach. Becca is totally limp in my arms. It’s taking every bit of my strength to keep both of our heads above water.

  Black spots are dancing at the edges of my vision when the sound of my name reaches me over the roar.

  “Rose.”

  I look up and Ian is there. One of his hands grips the rope while the other anchors him to the tree bridge.

  “Listen to me, Rose.” Ian’s voice cuts right through the chaos. “I’m going to pull you up. Don’t let her go. Do you hear me?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. The rope around my waist gives a vicious tug. For one terrifying moment, Becca and I hang suspended over the roiling river. Her body is a dead weight, wrenching my arms out of their sockets, and then Ian has me by the back of my dress.

  My stomach hits the rotting bark, and I heave up a gallon of river water. Dimly, I register Ian scooping Becca into his arms. I close my eyes, too exhausted to do anything but breathe.

  The log creaks under the sudden addition of weight. A few seconds later, Ian lifts me up. For a moment, I’m floating, and then my back touches silty riverbed. When my vision finally stops spinning, it’s centered on Ian’s furious face.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” The question is dead calm, but the hands on my arms are shaking. Or maybe that’s just me.

  “I—I heard someone scream. I thought it was Charlie.” I glance over to where Becca is lying on her side under Ian’s tarp. The knot in my stomach loosens when I notice the silver material rise and fall with her breath. “She was trapped on a rock. I thought I could help.”

  “By jumping in?”

  For the first time since he pulled me out, I notice Ian’s appearance. Scratches cover his face and hands. Twigs and mud cling to his clothes like he rolled through several barns to get here. The only clean thing on him is that old hat. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, sitting there half-soaked, furious, scolding me, and I couldn’t care less. Right now, I couldn’t care less about any of it.

  A giggle bubbles up in my throat, and it feels good. So good because even though I’m wet and freezing and lost in every imaginable way, Becca and I are both alive.

  And for once, I am not alone.

  Ian stares at me as if I’ve completely lost my mind. “Sorry,” I gasp. “But you should see yourself right now.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “You might not want to talk.”

  My laughter ends in a wet cough, and Ian’s expression turns dead serious. “Did it cross your mind to wait for me before you dove headfirst into the rapids?”

  I frown at him because it didn’t cross my mind. Not once.

  “I didn’t jump in on purpose. Someone pushed me in. I’m serious,” I insist when Ian just stares at me. “I thought I saw someone on the ridge, and then I felt a hand on my back, shoving me over.”

  It was the same person who scared off the bobcat yesterday. It had to be. Which means I’m not completely losing my mind.

  It’s only partially reassuring.

  Someone is following us. But what could they possibly gain by pushing me into the river? More important, what will happen if they find Charlie before I do?

  Desperation creeps in on me again without warning. “The road,” I say, sitting straight up.

  Ian rises to his feet. “These woods look identical to the woods outside Fort Glory. Same landmarks and everything. But once you get past the city limits, heading toward Maple, everything just … stops.”

  His words bring me up short. “What do you mean it stops?”

  “I mean the road never starts again. There’s no police blockade. No pileup of abandoned cars like the one you describ
ed. It’s like the trees go on and on in that direction, but they don’t look right.” He pulls his cap back down over his brow as he searches for the right words. “It reminds me of one of those paintings. The ones with the staircases that never really get anywhere.”

  A chill creeps up my spine. “What about the town?”

  Lines of sadness frame his eyes. “Every trace of it is still covered by that storm I told you about. It’s bigger than it was yesterday. Whatever it is, it’s growing.” The pause that follows suggests I won’t like what comes next. “Remember how I told you there’s an eye at the center? It’s stirring up all sorts of weather. Those animals had the right idea. I’ve never seen clouds like these before.”

  Just like that, the missing road becomes the least of our problems.

  I’m about to ask Ian where that leaves us, when a warbling voice cuts me off.

  “Ian?”

  Ian turns toward the little girl. She’s sitting up, shivering in the mud, her gaze locked on him.

  A hint of confusion flashes across his face.

  Becca slumps. “Don’t you recognize me?” There’s something in her tone. A touch of hurt that goes deep.

  Ian’s complexion grows two shades lighter. “Becs?”

  My heart twists at the expression on his face. It’s relief and sadness and regret all at once. The moment feels intensely personal, but it’s too late to look away now.

  “I missed you,” the little girl says.

  Ian takes a halting step forward. “I’m surprised you still remember me.” His voice is oddly thick.

  “I couldn’t forget you. Not ever.” When she smiles, it’s like the sun decided to shine through the dark.

  Ian walks across the beach to kneel beside her. Becca watches him approach with flushed cheeks. It’s obvious she adores him. That she has for a long time. She reaches for him. The tips of her pale fingers brush his stubble. He cups her trembling hand against his jaw like he’s afraid her bones will shatter.

  “When’d you cut your hair?” Becca’s smile turns crooked, and I get a glimpse of the fire I saw when she was holding on to that rock for dear life.

  Ian runs a hand over his buzzed head. “What do you think?”

  “It looks stupid.”

  Ian laughs. It’s the sound of pure relief.

  Blue-tinted lips curve into a smile. It lights her whole face for a moment before something stirs in her eyes. A familiar darkness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle.

  “Ian—” I don’t get to finish the warning.

  “You didn’t see me,” the little girl says. The joy bleeds from her expression. “You didn’t even know me.”

  “It’s been a while,” Ian says. “You look—older.”

  “Two years.” As she speaks, the darkness in her pupils bleeds into the whites. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

  Ian flinches like she slapped him. “Becs, I’m sorry. I—”

  Becca claps her hands over her ears. The movement is so violent, her whole body starts to shake.

  I kneel beside her. “We need to get you dry,” I say, but it’s obvious she doesn’t hear me.

  She doesn’t hear anything.

  Fingers claw at her scalp. “You didn’t see me. You didn’t say goodbye.” She crumples.

  My heart clenches as she hits the sand at my feet. Right next to a clump of bloody hair.

  * * *

  Ian is beside Becca in an instant.

  “How long was she in the water?” He gathers her into his lap. Darkness glitters in her blown pupils. It douses the last traces of hazel in a sea of pure black.

  “I … I don’t know.”

  Ian’s hands are steady as they move from Becca’s waist to her neck, but there’s panic in his eyes when they meet mine. “She’s going hypothermic.”

  “Her eyes,” I say. “They’re dark like the people I told you about. The ones in the town right before they went—”

  “I know.” His Adam’s apple bobs once. “But I don’t know how to fix it. All I know is we’ve got to get her warm, or she’ll die.”

  Things become really simple, really fast. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Find some kindling. Anything dry we can burn.” Ian sheds his jacket and rips the shirt over his head. With one arm, he pulls Becca against his bare chest. “I have to keep her warm. Can you get what we need?”

  I don’t waste energy on an answer. The riverbank is a tangled web of driftwood. I gather what I can, but my arms are shaking so badly from my dip in the river, most of it never makes it to the pile.

  “Switch with me,” I say.

  Ian nods. I slide in front of him and gather Becca in my arms.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “What?” I crane my neck to look up at him.

  “You both need body heat. Skin-to-skin contact is the best thing for that.” He kneels in front of me and drapes his jacket around my shoulders. It’s nearly big enough to cover me and Becca both. Ian bunches the material under my chin. “I need you to trust me.”

  I get the sense he knows exactly what he’s asking.

  I nod, and Ian quickly turns away to finish building the fire.

  Using the jacket as a shield, I pull off my clothes and Becca’s until we’re both in our underwear. Her skin is ice-cold, but within seconds, miraculous warmth flows between us. Heat sinks into me with pins and needles.

  A shiver runs down my spine as I pull Becca closer. She’s not moving anymore, but her eyes are open. Clouded over with blackness. Just like Officer Jensen and all those people who lost it before Fort Glory disappeared.

  We already saw how that worked out for them.

  No sooner does the thought cross my mind than Becca moans. Fingers curl into claws as she tears at herself again.

  Horror leaves me paralyzed. Another bloody clump of hair hits the beach beside me, and then I stop thinking. I grab Becca’s hands.

  It happens out of nowhere. A hook of fire sinks into my guts, tearing a groan from my lips.

  This feeling. Oh God. It’s the same one that hit me in the woods behind Devil’s Tooth. Right before I blacked out and woke up here in—

  The hook digs in deeper. The forest blurs as I am ripped sideways. Away from Ian and my body holding on to Becca on the riverbank. Toward an ocean of darkness hovering at the edge of my mind. It rises up, yawning and deep. Waves of terrible notes crash over me. Their roar fills my head, tearing at me with barbed teeth until I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

  The closer I get to the black ocean, the louder it gets. I’m almost over the edge when something jerks me back.

  The dark ocean releases my mind with the snap of a rubber band.

  “Rose!”

  Ian is leaning over me. Judging by the hoarseness in his voice, he’s been calling my name for a while.

  “What happened?” I ask groggily.

  “You tried to stop Becca. The second you touched her hand, your face went blank. I kept calling your name, but you were gone.”

  I struggle to sit up. “I saw something. Or some place. It was like … an ocean of darkness somewhere at the edge of my mind. It was … loud.”

  “I know,” Ian says.

  “What? How?”

  His eyes dart to Becca, lying in my arms. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to pull your hands apart.” Beads of sweat stand out on his brow despite the freezing cold. “That’s when I saw it. It only lasted for a second.” Judging by the look on his face, a second was more than enough.

  “What do you think it was?” I ask.

  “No idea. But now’s not the time to figure it out.”

  I nod. Becca’s gone quiet again. I take a deep breath and pull back her lids. The blackness has faded into her pupils, revealing hazel irises shot through with red.

  Gathering my courage, I reach for her hand.

  Nothing but the cold press of her skin against mine.

  I’m slumping back down to the sand when a white fleck lands on the
tip of my nose. It melts within seconds, but the uneasy feeling it leaves behind lasts much longer.

  “Here.” When I look up, Ian is standing over me, holding out my jacket. “Let Becca keep mine.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  No, he won’t. None of us will be.

  “I just saw a snowflake,” I tell him. The cold is bad enough. We won’t survive an hour out here in the snow.

  I’m no good to Mom or Charlie if I’m dead.

  “How long before that storm wall hits us?” I ask.

  “Not long,” Ian says, confirming that we are in serious, serious trouble. “It shouldn’t be this cold. Or this dark,” he adds with another ominous glance at the sky.

  “The same thing happened yesterday. It went from morning to night and skipped right over afternoon.”

  Ian nods in acceptance. We’ve both seen too many strange things to question the truth. Wherever this place is, however we got here, the rules we know no longer apply.

  I hug Becca closer. “We can’t stay out here.”

  Ian’s eyes dart to the little girl in my arms. “The Boy Scouts have a camp on a local lake. There are a few cabins and a washhouse. It’s still there. I saw it from up in the tree.”

  “How far?” I demand.

  “A mile or two north. The trip would take us closer to the storm. We’d be racing it to the camp.”

  “We can’t go back. We already tried that, and it didn’t work.”

  Ian fingers the lump on the back of his head. His hands drop to his sides. “There’s a good chance I’ll lead us in circles all night.”

  A snowflake lands on Becca’s eyelash.

  We don’t have all night.

  “We have to try.”

  Ian shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Compared to what?” I throw his words from a few hours ago back at him.

  Becca needs more than a tarp. She needs something with four walls and a roof. If Ian is right about the storm moving in, we’ll all need real shelter to survive the night.

  The bizarre tugging starts again in the center of my chest, flooding me with a strange certainty. I decide to put my faith in it. And Ian.