by P. J. Night
“Aiiiii-ck-ck-ck-ck!”
The sound shattered the night. Maggie and Jason spun around to look at Jenna.
“That wasn’t me,” she said. “That time it wasn’t me!”
The cry, throaty and garbled, came again, so shrill that it made Jenna’s ears ache. She clapped her hands over them and wished, for one brief moment, that this was all a dream, nothing more than a terrible nightmare from which she would awake sweaty and scared but ultimately safe.
This was no nightmare, though. This night was all too real. And just when Jenna thought things couldn’t get worse, the sound of footsteps thundering through the brush echoed through the Sacred Square.
The Marked Monster was approaching.
Quickly.
“Run!” Jenna screamed at the top of her lungs. “Run!”
Maggie and Jason took off for the house, with Jenna right behind them. No matter how fast she ran, she felt that the monster was moving faster, bearing down on them, and a horrible, foul stench filled her nostrils—the sweet stink of death, of flesh rotting away into nothingness, so close she could almost taste decay on her tongue.
Then, just ahead, she saw her house, glowing with warm lights, and Brittany and Laurel holding open the door, identical expressions of fear on their faces.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Brittany was yelling. And they did, first Maggie, then Jason, and now it was Jenna’s turn, and the door was held wide open for her. She was almost home.
She stopped. Turned to face the forest.
It was waiting for her there, just beyond the trees.
It would wait for her. If not tonight, then tomorrow night, or the next. Jenna was sure of it. Unless she met it face-to-face, and scared it off, she would never be free of it … or of her fear. I am one of the Marked, she thought. I am marked by the Monster.
What weapon did Jenna have to use against the Marked Monster? How could she ever frighten it away?
I have the light, she thought, feeling the weight of the industrial flashlight, heavier than she remembered. I have the light.
And if that didn’t work?
Jenna remembered the words from Imogen’s diary: “Already I feel freer knowing that the end is near. It will all be over soon.”
“Jenna,” Jason said. His voice sounded hollow, far away; like he was standing at the end of a long tunnel. “Jenna, get inside.”
But the pull was too strong for her to fight.
It is better not to say good-bye.
“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispered.
Then she turned around and bolted, disappearing into the darkest depths of the woods.
“Jenna!” Jason yelled after her. He started to run out the door, but Brittany grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go.
“You can’t go back!” she babbled. “You can’t go back!”
In strained silence, they watched the beam of Jenna’s flashlight bobbing among the trees. Then a thud, a sudden darkness, and one last, terrible sound: Jenna’s scream, echoing through the night.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” Mr. Walker said, running his fingers through his sparse hair so that it stood up wildly. “How did this happen, Jason?”
“I don’t know,” Jason mumbled, looking at the ground.
“That’s not good enough!” snapped Mr. Walker. “She’s your little sister, Jason! You’re supposed to look out for her!”
“I tried!” Jason exploded. “Why do you think I stayed with her in the woods? At her stupid campout! I could tell something was wrong with her. I asked her. But she wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Mr. Walker sighed and sat down heavily. “I’m sorry, Jas,” he said. “It’s late. I know we’re both anxious.”
Jason nodded without saying a word. It had been more than two hours since they’d found Jenna, unconscious and unresponsive, in the clearing, and nearly an hour since the other girls at the campout had gone home with their parents and Dr. Walker had rushed home from the hospital and started treating Jenna’s arm. Jason would never forget the look on his mother’s face when she first saw it. That look—the momentary lapse in her normally calm demeanor—had scared him worse than Jenna’s injuries, with the angry red streaks racing down her arm and the foul green liquid flowing from it.
And now this long, long stretch, with Mom and Jenna locked away in the bathroom, and Jenna’s friends all gone home, and just Jason and Mr. Walker to wait, in the quiet; to wait, with the worry.
“How much longer?” Jason finally asked. “This is taking kind of a long time, isn’t it?”
Mr. Walker sighed. “Maybe we should have gone to the hospital.”
Just then Dr. Walker’s voice echoed down the hall. “Carl? Jason? Can you help me move her back to her bedroom? I’m done in here.”
Like a flash, Mr. Walker and Jason were at the bathroom, where they found Jenna slumped against the cold tile of the bathtub. Her face was very pale, almost gray.
“Is she going to be okay?” Mr. Walker said right away as he knelt by Jenna’s side.
Dr. Walker paused before she answered. “We’ll need to watch that wound very closely tomorrow,” she finally replied. “I gave her an antibiotic shot, but if it gets any worse, I’m taking her to the hospital. I don’t want her to …”
As her voice trailed off, Dr. Walker and Mr. Walker exchanged a glance.
“What?” asked Jason. “You don’t want her to what?”
“To lose her arm,” Dr. Walker answered. “But that’s not going to happen, honey. If the antibiotics don’t kick in by tomorrow night, we’ll take her to the hospital and start an IV.”
From the floor, Jenna groaned.
“Let’s get her into bed,” Dr. Walker whispered. “Careful—try not to touch her arm.”
As gently as they could, Jason and Mr. Walker picked her up. Jason tried not to look at the pile of bloody towels in the bathtub. At least the bandage on Jenna’s arm was very clean and dry, bright white gauze gleaming under the bathroom lights.
Halfway down the hall to Jenna’s room, her eyes fluttered open.
“Jenna?” Jason asked hopefully. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, just a bit, before her eyes closed again, but the fact that she had responded at all, that she’d seemed to understand his question, filled Jason with hope.
Carefully Mr. Walker and Jason lay Jenna down on her bed. She didn’t open her eyes again. In the doorway, Dr. Walker whispered, “I’m going to stay in here tonight. In case Jenna needs me.”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Walker began. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”
“If we need to, we will,” Dr. Walker replied. Then she closed the door.
It was early afternoon before Jenna opened her eyes again, blinked, blinked once more. She had never realized before how comfortable her bed was; how cheerful her room, when the warm sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains. She closed her eyes again, just to open them and feel the sweet, sweet relief of being in her ordinary bedroom.
Across the room, her mother dozed in a chair. Jenna hated to wake her, but—
Dr. Walker’s eyes opened. “Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”
“Um, okay?” Jenna said tentatively. “Tired. Sore.”
Dr. Walker nodded. “That’s to be expected. Can I get Dad and Jason? They’ve been dying to see you.”
Jenna nodded. She was trying so hard to remember what had happened, but the memories of the night before were as sharp and irregular as shattered glass. Jenna had the sense that if only she could put the pieces back together, she would understand—she would know—
“Jenna!” Mr. Walker exclaimed as he hurried into the room. “Jenna, how are you feeling?”
“Hey,” Jason said awkwardly from the doorway.
“Hey,” Jenna replied. “What—what happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Jason asked.
She shook her head.
“Honey, what happened to your arm?” Dr. Walker asked.
&nb
sp; “It was so stupid, actually,” Jenna said. “I found this claw thing in the woods, and we were messing around with it at Maggie’s sleepover last weekend, and it accidentally scratched me. It was such a little cut, but it got really gross, even though I put, like, a ton of antibiotic ointment on it every day.”
“You should have showed me those cuts, Jenna,” Dr. Walker said gently. “They were really, really infected. You probably needed to start taking an antibiotic days ago.”
“Cuts?” Jenna asked. “I only had one cut.”
“No, honey, there were two cuts,” Dr. Walker said. “I cleaned them out myself.”
Jenna craned her neck and tried to peel up a corner of the gauze to see.
“Don’t touch it,” Dr. Walker told her. “Besides, after the debridement I did to clean the wounds, it’s all one big sore now. You needed fifteen stitches!”
Jenna scrunched up her face. “Yuck. But I only had one cut, Mom. I know it.”
“Maybe it happened while you were in the woods,” Mr. Walker suggested. “Do you remember anything?”
Jenna’s face clouded over. “I went out there to … find the Marked Monster,” she said slowly. “And … I dropped the light … and …”
“And then what?” Jason asked eagerly.
“I don’t remember!” Jenna exclaimed. “Mom, why can’t I remember?”
“Your fever was so high, sweetie,” Dr. Walker said. “Dad and Jason found you passed out in the clearing—you were burning up—”
“But I have to remember!” Jenna said, her voice rising an octave. “I have to know!”
“Know what?” asked Dr. Walker.
“Nothing,” Jenna said sullenly. She already knew how weird it would sound to tell everyone that she was convinced that the Marked Monster still lurked in the woods.
Suddenly she remembered: Jason. He had been there too. Across the room, their eyes met.
“I’m starving,” Jenna said abruptly as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Do we have any food?”
“Whoa, take it easy, Jenna,” Dr. Walker said. “I really want you to rest.”
“I’m feeling … good, actually,” Jenna said. “I think I can make it to the kitchen. And I’m really, really hungry.”
“Well, that’s good,” Dr. Walker said. “Let’s go.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Jenna ate three bowls of pasta. Food had never tasted so delicious!
“Hey, Jason, how was your karate meet this morning?” Jenna remembered to ask.
“Oh. I, uh, skipped it actually. We were still waiting for you to wake up, so I thought I’d stick around.” He stood up abruptly. “I’d better go get the tent and stuff. We left it in the clearing all night.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jenna said right away.
“No, I want you to rest,” argued Dr. Walker.
“Mom. I really feel a lot better,” Jenna said.
Dr. Walker sighed. “Just for a couple of minutes, okay? And Jason, stay with her the whole time. I really don’t want you to overdo it, Jenna. No heavy lifting, no exertion.”
“I won’t, Mom,” Jenna promised.
On the way out, she brought the box of cat food … just in case. And, to her delight, the stray was waiting for her at the tree stump.
“Hey, little sweetie!” Jenna cried as the purring cat leaped onto the stump. “Where’ve you been all week?”
“Jenna, don’t touch it,” Jason said. “It could have rabies or something. Don’t you have enough germs?”
Ordinarily, Jenna would have tried to come up with some clever retort, but there was something protective in Jason’s voice that made her hold back. “Well, Jason, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Yeah, well, you are my only sister,” he replied. “I’d rather you not, like, die or anything.”
“Me either,” Jenna said, laughing genuinely for the first time in days.
It felt so good to laugh, in the sunshine, with Jason next to her. But the trees stood before them, tall and silent, casting long shadows over the yard.
“I, um, I actually owe you an apology,” Jason began.
“What did you do this time?”
“That claw thing? In your room the other night? I was the one who put it in your bed when I heard you get up,” Jason admitted. “To freak you out.”
“I thought it was you!” Jenna exclaimed. “But you were sleeping when I peeked in your room.”
“You thought I was sleeping,” Jason corrected her. “Anyway—forgive me? I’m actually really sorry about that. It seemed funny at the time.”
“You’re forgiven,” Jenna said with a sigh. “But how did you know where to find it?”
Jason gave her a funny smile. “I’m sure I’ll regret admitting this, but Jenna, let’s just say you need to find a new secret hiding place. I’ve known about that one for years.”
Jenna was about to start yelling at her brother for going through her stuff when she realized that even though Jason could’ve read all the notes from her friends, he’d never used them to embarrass her. Maybe, she thought, he hadn’t even read them.
“Do not snoop through my room anymore,” she said firmly. “And could you try not to be such a huge loser?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jason replied. Then he nodded toward the woods. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“I think so,” Jenna said. “I just … want to go back. For a minute, at least.”
They walked into the woods without saying another word, passing through the golden sunlight that filtered through the trees. It was all so pretty and peaceful, so calm, even, that Jenna had trouble believing it was the same place she’d been so terrified the night before. Maybe I let my imagination run away with me, she thought. Maybe Mom was right, and it was all because of the fever.
“Here we are,” Jason said quietly when they reached the clearing.
“Oh, man, what happened to the tent?” asked Jenna. It was lying in a heap at the edge of the woods.
“The wind must’ve blown it down,” Jason replied. “I’ll go pull out the pegs. You shouldn’t, like, exert yourself or anything. Dr. Mom said so.”
Jenna smiled. As Jason worked on the tent, she wandered around the clearing, looking for anything they might have dropped in the darkness.
“Jenna?” Jason called. “Jenna, you should—can you come here? Now?”
Jenna crossed the clearing and stood next to Jason as he held up the tent. A terrible gash had nearly ripped it in two. Then something fell to the ground at Jenna’s feet. She reached down, slowly, and picked it up.
A razor-sharp talon, speckled with dried blood. More syrup? Jenna thought bitterly. More food coloring? And just when I thought Jason had changed—
“Jason,” she breathed. “Why? Why would you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Hide the talon in the torn tent. Try to scare me.”
Jason shook his head. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out another talon.
The one that Jenna had found in the woods, two weeks ago.
The talon that had started all this.
A sick, sinking sense of dread washed over Jenna; her eyes met Jason’s, and a look of unbearable understanding passed between them. She forced herself to take a closer look at the two talons. They were identical, except that the one she had just found was splattered with … was it her blood? Or the Marked Monster’s?
As if Jenna and Jason could read each other’s thoughts, they dropped the talons in the dirt and started to run from the clearing as fast as they could.
It didn’t matter, though.
They could never outrun the scratching, coming from deep within the woods, where some … thing … waited.
It was patient.
It would wait as long as it took.
It was very early on Saturday morning, and while most other kids were sleeping, Whitney Van Lowe was wide awake, and very busy.
She was unpacking her dolls, which were each in indi
vidual plastic boxes inside a larger cardboard box. Each time she opened one, it was like a reunion with an old friend. She felt a special responsibility to make the dolls comfortable in her new home.
“Penelope! I know you don’t like being in your box for so long. But see, here you are in the fresh air again. Look, here’s your new spot. Right next to your good friend Irene,” Whitney spoke soothingly to a doll wearing a sailor suit. “You’re all so lucky you don’t have to go to school. I know you must hate moving around, but imagine what it’s like being me. I’m always the new girl, and I have to work so hard to make new friends.”
Whitney looked at one doll in a Mexican embroidered dress. “What, Rosa?” she asked. “Yes, well, it’s not as easy as it looks.” She paused as if the doll was responding, and then she replied. “Gracias. I think you’re a really good friend too!” She sighed. “I’ll be back, everyone. I’ve got to go downstairs for breakfast.”
She paused at the door, looking down at all her dolls lined up on the floor. “The name of our new town is Westbrook, everyone, remember?” she spoke like a teacher addressing a class. “It’s in Connecticut. The town of Westbrook is on the beach. The body of water is Long Island Sound, and our new house is in the woods. This region of the United States is called New England. Why do you think it’s called New England?” She paused.
“That’s right, because English settlers moved here and started colonies.” She smiled lovingly at her dolls. “Okay, there’s obviously something more important that I haven’t said.” She sounded serious.
“I know I had to pack you in your boxes really fast. It must have been very shocking and scary. And I do know I wasn’t very gentle. I’m very sorry about that. But you know that’s not the way I would have done it if it had been up to me.”
She took a deep breath, and her face clouded over. “I think you know that it was up to my dad, and I think you also know that he can’t be trusted.”
Then she went downstairs, which looked like Box City. There were towers of boxes everywhere. Her dad had set up his laptop on the kitchen table and was reading something, his brow furrowed. Whitney saw him, but he didn’t see her. A strange look flickered across her face as she glimpsed what was on the computer screen.