Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,104

rate my nightmares have been playing out, it wouldn’t surprise me to see just that.

Blaine’s words come back to me like a cliffside echo. I need to fight like hell.

I’ll never let Flanders win her heart while I still have breath in my body, or I’m not Wesley Paxton.

My back lands hard on soggy soil as if a giant picked me up and tossed me to the ground.

“Thanks a lot.” I groan as I stagger to my feet. A light veil of fog drifts by like smoke. It’s damp and cold, and for a second I think maybe I’m still at Ephemeral.

A row of crosses erect themselves from out of the ground, then a series of bulbous granite half-moons, each with their own inscription.

“Holy shit.” I take a step back at the strange sight. A freaking cemetery? This is Flanders’ destination date?

I turn to take in the landscape, and a fresh mound of dirt snags my attention.

“Crap,” I whisper. Who knows what grave robbing scheme they’ve hooked themselves into? Maybe I don’t have to worry about Flanders taking her to bed. If the misdemeanors keep piling up, the only place he’s going to land her is prison.

I circle around the mess and glance down at the massive hole to find a dirt-riddled casket staring back at me.

I glance up at the stone inscription, and my heart bottoms out.

Wesley Adam Parker

What the hell kind of Halloween prank is this? Would Coop stoop this far to get into her pants? What the hell kind of demented idiot is he?

I glance around for clues, for reality, but there’s nothing for miles with the exception of motel light blinking on and off in the distance. Cider Plains Inn. Free Internet. HBO.

Cider Plains?

An image of a ranch house, with a large barn in the back, bounces in and out of my mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and that hole in the ground pulsates like it’s itching to swallow me in one easy bite.

“What the hell,” I say, slipping into the open mouth of the earth. “Let do this,” I hiss, pulling back the casket.

A pang of terror hits me like a train. A familiar face stares back at me, and I stumble as far as the dirt will allow.

“Shit!” I slam it shut as if the corpse inside were fighting its way out. My heart races—both my body and mind go numb. “There’s no way she was right.” I slip the coffin back open and force myself to stare at the monster that bears my resemblance.

A thousand excuses stream through my mind on why in the hell I’ve got a lookalike buried in a town called Cider Plains. Each excuse disintegrates to nothing. Every road to reason congests with the ugly truth forming around me.

I reach down to touch him, and my hand draws back like it met up with a snake.

His fingers have been gnawed off. I lean in a little closer. Snapped off? I touch his flesh, insert my finger in the hollow fold of his hand.

Shit.

“It’s a fake.” I huff a quiet laugh. My heart pulsates through my ears. My brain rattles around like a Ping-Pong from the fear and elation picking up steam. “A fucking fake.” I pull back his jacket, tear open his shirt and pound my fist through his hollow mannequin body. Wesley Parker was nothing but a cheap imitation. He never existed and never will. I knew it. And, now, maybe Laken, knows it too.

A white square catches my attention, peering out from the inside pocket. It’s a picture. I pluck it out and hold it up under the pristine moon glaring down from above.

A breath gets caught in my lungs. It feels as if all of gravity is pressing down over my shoulders.

It’s Laken and me in the parking lot just behind the snack shack. Fletcher is in the background, photo bombing the picture with his hands spread wide, the fake look of surprise plastered across his face. I’m in my football uniform, and she’s kissing me with her leg hiked up in the back like she did tonight with Coop.

I give a dull laugh. Then, in a moment, the world changes—the air, the fertile soil, the light scent of a storm on its way—it all feels far too familiar.

I don’t play football. Ephemeral doesn’t have a snack shack.

The word Hedgehogs is emblazed on the side of the helmet that dangles from my hand.

“What the hell?” I mouth the words, rubbing my thumb over