cough coming from his lungs. He leaned the boy over and started patting his back, encouraging him to cough as hard as he could until he was sure Richie was able to breathe on his own. He grabbed his phone and put in a call to Roland.
He wasn’t even sure what he’d said to the sheriff. The next few minutes seemed to happen in a blur, and the next thing he knew, he was staggering down the side of the road with the terrified boy in his arms.
The sheriff’s car screeched to a stop a little further up the road, and Roland leaped out to run over to Colt. The disbelief on the older ghoul’s face made it clear he hadn’t hoped either of them would be coming back alive.
“What the hell happened?” Roland demanded, looking from Colt to the boy. “Is that—?”
“Richie,” Colt answered, passing the kid into his arms. Richie was so shaken that he didn’t even complain, and just put his arms around Roland’s neck, continuing to tremble and sob.
Roland stared at him for a second, and Colt could see all the questions burning in his mind, but he had the sense not to ask them at the moment. Colt knew what he must have looked like for that to be the sheriff’s reaction.
“Get him to the hospital and call his parents. I’ll text you the number,” Colt said, turning back toward the forest.
“Wait,” Roland called.
When he turned around, Roland had a hand in the boy’s hair, stroking it in consolation. As gruff as he was, he was a father, so Colt knew Richie would probably be better off in his hands.
“Ronnie called me right before you did and filled me in,” the sheriff said, growing somber. “Does that thing still have Jason?”
Colt wasn’t surprised Roland was the first person Ronnie had called after waking up. He was just pissed Andrew had allowed it. “Yes.”
Roland’s expression softened in understanding. It was the closest Colt had ever come to seeing sympathy on his face. “Whatever you need, we’ll back you up.”
Colt just nodded, turning back to the woods while he still had the presence of mind to search.
His pace quickened the further he went, doubling back around the graveyard to check for any clues the changeling might have left at the scene of the blast. He should have known the changeling wouldn’t hesitate to use an explosion as a smokescreen to escape.
The only question was, why bother? The changeling was obviously perfectly capable on his own, and Colt wouldn’t have even known where to find Richie if the changeling hadn’t lured him out. He had no idea why the monster wanted him to do his bidding, but as long as he provided some theoretical use, he had reason to hope Jason would be kept alive as leverage.
Time seemed to slow down as Colt scoured the area. He sifted through every bit of seared flesh Christopher had left behind, but there was nothing. No footprints, no necklaces, no calling cards. It became obvious the changeling didn’t want to be found, and by the time Roland’s team arrived in the woods to give him backup, Colt had already given up hope of finding anything in the woods that night. He gave them instructions to search every last square mile of the woods nonetheless, leaving no stone unturned.
When Colt had finally wandered back to his truck, he sank into the driver’s seat and just sat there for a few minutes, unblinking and rarely breathing.
All at once, the numbness gave way, and the rage bubbled up in his throat, burning even hotter than Christopher’s hands on his shoulders had. He let out a scream of rage and anguish that echoed through the night and slammed his fists down on the steering wheel hard enough to blast the horn. He couldn’t get Jason’s voice out of his mind, filled with fear on the phone, distorted by that echoing, musical laugh.
The most unsettling part about it was how familiar it was. How it seemed to echo from parts inside him even he wasn’t aware of. Like it belonged to him more than his own voice did.
The changeling knew him. He had been inside Colt’s mind, inside his thoughts, and the damn thing probably knew him even better than he knew himself. The only consolation, the only thing that gave him hope of finding Jason again other than sheer desperation and denial, was the fact that the changeling also knew exactly how to reach him.