Tee stops in his tracks. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going to Professor Wadlow’s house.”
“Like hell we are. I’m not going near that place.”
“Relax. He knows it was you in his house yesterday.”
“What! And that’s supposed to make it better?”
“Calm down. He’s not mad. We’re on the same team here. Besides, we have bigger fish to fry.”
Devin tilts his head at Brady. “What do you mean? On the same team?”
“This thing, whatever it is, we’ve been tracking it. Professor Wadlow’s trying to figure out how to kill it.”
Robby squeezes Brady in a vise glare. “You knew about this? Why didn’t you warn anyone?”
“Warn ‘em about what? That there’s a monster stalking and killing people it’s marked?”
“What do you mean marked?” My words rattle off my lips as a hollow tremble.
“This thing’ll kill anything in its way. It literally exists to cause pain. But from what we can tell, it’s after certain people.”
“That’s crazy. Marked?” Tee shakes his head. “This is bullshit.”
“Is it? It could’ve easily killed him.” Brady motions his eyes to Devin. “And do any of you actually doubt it would’ve killed Robby?”
“But marked. That doesn’t make sense. Why would this thing want to kill specific people?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what we intend to find out.”
Tee’s lips tuck into a slow frown, his eyes growing wide as an owl’s at dusk. “Wait. So how do we know if we’re marked?”
“Have any strange dreams lately? Something happen to you beyond comprehension?”
Tee takes a huge swallow. A dreadful image of Margo flashes in my mind from her surprise visit to my bathroom and of my encounter in Grief Hollow. Shit! I’m marked. Tee, too.
Devin gives a smirking headshake. “You mean beyond our comprehension more than what just happened back there?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. You’re not marked. You’d be dead right now if you were. I already know Robby’s marked by how that thing came after him.”
Robby’s brows furrow before his jawline hardens. “Well, that’s easy for you to say, coming from a guy who’s not marked.”
“I’ve been marked for over six years. And if you want to survive as I have, you’d better come with me.” Brady’s words linger in the air, somber as a funeral director.
Chapter 35
A Rising Tide
CAM STARES OUT from the squad car. A quiver scales his spine. The branches in the tree line begin to sway in an invigorated breeze. Myron got them. Oh God, I know it! It’s been too long. He got them! He’ll kill me, too! Like Seth. Gotta get out of here.
Cam jumps as he detects movement in the woods. He peers through the window into the edge of the tree line, but the shadows swallow everything a few feet inside the woods. He reaches for the door handle, readying a path for his escape, but realizes there isn’t one in the backseat. He’s trapped.
He starts fiddling with the steel mesh divider that separates the backseat from the front of the squad car. But the steel mesh divider lacks any vulnerability, no alternate means of escape. If I can’t get out…Myron can’t get in? He takes a deep breath trying to settle his nerves, but his body continues to tremble.
His frazzled eyes return to the spot he last detected movement, but he finds nothing unusual. A cringe-inducing scratch on the glass behind him yanks his head around. He lets out a startled scream at Myron’s face in the window and launches himself across the backseat. He pins himself against the door. Myron flashes a wicked grin at him before curling his lips and exposing a row of jagged teeth.
“You’re coming home,” Myron growls before he disappears below the window.
Cam gasps for air, his heart fluttering as he surveys the area trying to locate Myron. “Jesus!” The top of Myron’s head emerges above the hood of the car. Myron rises, his body like a giant centipede with a waxy, burned-umber exoskeleton banded black at the edges of its body segments. Dozens of spiny legs screech over the steel bumper, shimmying forward in unison. The long, dagger-like legs that taper to fine needlepoints at the tips slice through the clear coat on the hood of the car. Cam’s breathing devolves into unmeasured, frantic panting. His heart jackhammers in his chest at the grotesque sight of its glossy, alabaster underbelly passing over the windshield, his ears in a state of revulsion as its lance-like legs chisel out chunks of glass as it ascends. The roof creaks before groaning under the weight of the creature, the squeal of scraping metal serrating Cam’s eardrums as it pulls the last of his hideous body over the windshield.
Cam dives for the floorboard and curls into a trembling ball. He shrieks as Myron’s face appears in the rear windshield. Myron’s mouth opens, and a pair of razor-sharp digits emerge like the leading edge of a carnivorous insect leaving its burrow. As they slide farther from his mouth, the waxy appendages unfurl on crispy joints. In one rippling motion of its body segments, the venomous fangs spring forward and impale the glass like swords. The creature’s lower legs work to brace itself against the car, and it heaves its powerful body, causing the window to let out a hideous creak. It gives way, the tempered glass separating from its housing in one shattered piece. With a quick head shirk, it sends the glass airborne, hurtling it into the grass.
A sudden jolt of adrenaline charges Cam’s muscles. He leaps on the seat to make a dive out of the car. But the creature whips its head around and plunges its venomous fangs deep into Cam’s chest.
Cam’s eyes shoot open and he screams. He’s hyperventilating, his lungs closing. A frantic scan of the car finds it undamaged. The terrible nightmare trembles his small body like an earthquake. His sweat-saturated clothes cling to his skin. The engine purrs against a backdrop of silence, the cold air blowing out of the vents glacial across the surface of his dewy skin. He scavenges his pockets until he locates his asthma inhaler and takes a long draw, trying to control his breathing.
As he steadies the rhythm of his breathing, Cam looks to the place where the two officers entered the woods, but there’s still no sign of them.
“Time to come home.” The raspy female voice jolts his eyelids.
Cam whips his head around. A skeletal female stands outside his window, her deep-set eyes burrowing into him. Her long, black stringy hair falls around her decomposing face, the corners of her corroded lips curled in a wicked smile. In one violent motion, she rips the door off the car frame, unleashing screams of tearing steel and pops of snapping bolts. Cam whimpers as the full vision of the grotesque creature assails his eyes. His lips tremble at its terrifying visage, patches of its skin rotting away from its body revealing the putrid sinew and grayish bones underneath.
“No! No, please!” Cam screams and lifts his arms to defend himself.
“They’ll bear no fruit!” it growls as it rockets into the backseat.
Cam screams as its sharp, bony claws tear into his skin and dig deep between the spaces of his rib cage. It curls its claws inside him, latching onto his bones. He coughs up a thick spurt of scarlet. Its gray, putrid tongue traces the tears rolling from his eyes. It pauses for a second. A gratified smile crosses its hideous face before it leaps from the patrol car and drags Cam’s body like a rag doll into the woods.
Chapter 36
Wadlow’s House
ONCE INSIDE WADLOW’S house, we pass through a sitting room. Brady leads us through a door to the basement below. An unwelcoming odor of old books and damp earth permeates the musty air. Latravious Wadlow stoops at his microscope.
“Professor Wadlow, this is Tee, Robby, Brooks and…”
“Devin. I go by Dev.”
“Right. And Dev.”
Professor Wadlow glances at us through his thick glasses and frowns. Tee fidgets, averting his eyes from Professor Wadlow’s gaze to the remnants of the mess he created the day prior.
“Why did you bring them here?” Latravious W
adlow’s voice is flat. He returns his attention to his work and lowers his head to his microscope on his workbench.
“The compound. It works! Well, sort of.”
Professor Wadlow raises his head from his microscope at Brady’s declaration. He scans us again, eyes shimmering with renewed vibrance.
“You saw it? Where?”
“Near Shiners’ Gorge. It was trying to take Robby.”
Professor Wadlow’s jaw tenses, a subtle frown accumulating on his lips. He rises from his workbench and snags a green thumbtack. He approaches a map of Harper Pass and the surrounding area that’s attached to the wall. His hand comes to a rest on Shiners’ Gorge, and he pushes in the pin. I notice the many other pins in a variety of colors already pushed into the map, many of them located near Copperhead Creek and Grief Hollow.
Devin points to the map. “What’s that for?”
“I’ve been tracking it for years. Trying to establish its territory.”
“What do the colors mean?”
“Astute question, young man.” Professor Wadlow lands grinning eyes on me. “Each color represents a different year. We’re green this year. Six years ago, we were black.” I notice a black pin, among others, on Grief Hollow. Tee shakes his head.
“Wait. So, you’re saying this thing has been around for six years?”
“Oh no. Probably quite a bit longer than that. That’s how long I’ve been tracking it.” Professor Wadlow releases a deep sigh through his parted lips.
“How long?” Robby’s voice quavers.
“Hard to say. Six years. Ten years. Fifty years. One—two hundred years.”
“That’s impossible.” The declaration explodes from Tee’s lips.
“Impossible? Or improbable?”
“Impossible, man. Ain’t no way that thing’s two hundred years old.”
“And why would you say a silly thing like that?” Professor Wadlow’s inquisitive eyes lock onto Tee.
Tee shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man. Nothing lives to two hundred years old.”
“Kids.” Professor Wadlow shakes his head with a frown. “There’s a world of knowledge at your fingertips. And yet, you still insist on relying on faulty logic rather than science.”
“Not logic, just common sense. Nothing lives to two hundred.”
“Indeed, some things do and beyond. Certain species of whales live two hundred years or more. There’s even a species of clam that can live to be five hundred years old.”
“But that thing wasn’t a clam. It was human. Well, kinda…it…it looked like my dad. Before it changed.”
“Precisely. It changed. Modified its own DNA, making it possible to live indefinitely.”
“What?” The response falls from Devin’s lips.
Professor Wadlow adjusts his glasses. “Think about it. What are some of the biggest causes of death?”
I lift my head. “Car crash.”
“Yes, but what are some of the more natural causes?”
“Cancer.”
“Exactly.” Professor Wadlow nods at Robby. “And if it can continually modify its DNA, it gets a fresh start. Like a renewed lease on life.”
I tent my brows, considering the supposition. “But how would no one know something like this exists? It doesn’t make sense.”
“But they have known. We’ve known for a long time. The stories were always there. It’s largely been dismissed, categorized as folklore and legend today. The Navajo call them skin-walkers. The French call them loup-garou. Nearly every culture and civilization throughout time has a name for them and these stories go back hundreds and even thousands of years. They’ve been here all along.”
I take a big swallow. Can this really be real? Tee shuffles his weight from foot to foot. Robby bites his lip, his eyes cloud and his face contorts like he’s revisiting some troubling thought. His somber eyes seek out Brady, and Robby gives a slow, subdued shake of his head as if he’s coming to terms with something.
Devin frowns and locks eyes with Professor Wadlow. “What does it want?”
“Depends. Depends on who it is.”
Robby flinches his head back at Professor Wadlow’s words. “You mean what it is.”
“No, I mean who it is. The Navajos spoke of the skin-walker being a man that can transform into animals and other people. They attributed this ability to supernatural power, whereas I attribute it to science. But in the end, the result is the same. They leave a trail of death and devastation in their wake.”
Devin inhales a deep breath and straightens his posture. “So how do we kill it?”
“If we can identify who it is, then we might be able to identify its purpose. If we identify its purpose, we can better predict its movements.”
“Professor’s been working on a formula. The one I threw at the creature.”
“I’ve isolated a gene. I call it the Polymorphic Infinity Gene. This gene is what’s allowing it to take different forms at will. Normally, as is the case with ants, a typical polymorphic gene allows for the same gene to produce different versions of the same species or for it to take different adult forms. In this case, those changes happen in seconds. And they aren’t restrictive to the same species. The formula I’m developing intends to disable that special gene, thereby stripping the skin-walker of its ability to transform. Here, let me show you.” Professor Wadlow walks to his microscope.
Professor Wadlow applies a thin layer of black goo from a petri dish onto a glass slide. He positions the slide and gives the dial on the microscope a gradual quarter turn, bringing an image into sharp focus.
“Come here, boys.” Professor Wadlow motions us to the workbench. Robby’s the first to look through the lens. “Do you see all of the changes happening? Like the substance is in a state of flux?”
Robby nods his head, and we all take turns peeking through the microscope lens at the mysterious substance underneath. The material lacks a discernable pattern. The particulates undergo rapid shifts of shape and size.
“What you are looking at are cells that lack their host. Without their host, the cells are in a state of flux because the underlying Infinity Gene cannot be controlled.”
Tee’s eyes widen and he takes a subtle step back. “You’re saying that this is part of that thing?”
“Yes, organic residues left behind from the transformation. But without the host, the cells are wildly mutating from one type of cell to another. Prior forms it has taken no doubt.”
I land round eyes on Professor Wadlow. “Is it dangerous?”
“No, not in this form. But let me show you what happens when we introduce a few milliliters of this formula.” Professor Wadlow grabs a dropper bottle. He unscrews the lid and draws some green fluid into the dropper from the bottle. He positions the dropper above the slide and gives it a light squeeze. “Now take a look.”
The cells undergoing rapid changes begin to spasm. Within a few moments, they become uniform and the movement ceases.
“Whoa.” I lift my head from the microscope.
The other boys take turns at the microscope. Wow. He’s brilliant! Could cure diseases…cancer even. Lucky he’s here. Bad for the world, I guess. But glad he’s here.
“When I said earlier who it is versus what it is, it was for this very reason. Once the formula is applied, the cells default back to their pre-transformative state, human cells.” Professor Wadlow smiles.
Devin shakes his head. “I can’t believe you figured all of this out.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t know who it is or what it wants.”
“How can we find out?” Robby asks.
Professor Wadlow sighs. “I don’t know.”
“The map!” I point to it. “You said that this thing is human, right? That this thing could be really old?”
Professor Wadlow nods. “I did.”
“So what if we use the map? Research the places it’s appeared most. See who lives there or lived there.”
“Actually, that’s a brilliant idea
. A bit of a long shot, but a brilliant idea.” He narrows his eyes on me, a faint grin tugging on the corners of his lips. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Brooks, sir.” My lips stretch into a wide smile.
“Well, Mr. Brooks, that’s a fine idea. And here, Brady, I thought you brought me just a bunch of frightened kids. Ah, but this one’s clever.” Professor Wadlow taps me on the shoulder wearing a playful smile.
We study the pins clustered on the map. Pins cluster near Shiners’ Gorge, Davis Quarry, and a large group congregate near Copperhead Creek and Grief Hollow. I also notice pins spread sporadically throughout the Harper Pass area. Robby breaks the contemplative silence.
“Seems like Grief Hollow and Copperhead Creek have the most pins.”
I nod. “That’s where I first saw it.”
Tee lifts his brows at Robby and me. “Yeah, but so does Davis Quarry.”
Devin points on the map. “And Shiners’ Gorge.”
“Look over here. That’s Mason Avenue.” Brady runs his finger on a street on the map. “There’s a few pins, right? And if you look behind that, that’s Chandler Trace. There’s even more pins there, too. When you add those together, that’s even more than Grief Hollow or Davis Quarry.”
Tee lifts his head with a sudden jolt. “Wait, doesn’t Sammy Needles live on Chandler Trace?”
Robby nods. “Yeah. He does.”
“And Margo lives on Mason Avenue.” I point to the street behind Sammy’s.
“The missing girl. Interesting,” Professor Wadlow remarks, but he’s talking to himself more than to us.
Robby turns to us with a gleam in his eyes. “We should follow Sammy.”
“Dude, you sure about that?” An underlying reticence resonates in Tee’s voice.
“Yeah, let’s see what he’s up to. Only one way to find out,” Devin suggests.
“We should go to the library. See if we can find anything on Grief Hollow, Shiners’ Gorge and Davis Quarry.” I check Robby and Devin for agreement but don’t find it in their faces. Crap. Getting close to Sammy is a mistake.
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