David could be behind that door. Somewhere. He could be in that tree house. Ambrose could finally know what happened to his little brother.
“helllllpppp meeee ammmmbrossssse! helllpppp!” the little voice called.
Ambrose reached the tree house. He climbed up through the trapdoor. Something pulled at the rope ladder below him. Giggling. Climbing. Ambrose slammed the trapdoor shut. The tree house went pitch black. He could see nothing in the room. His hands groped the wall, hoping to find a lantern or a flashlight.
He heard breathing in the room.
“ambbbbbrossse…” the voice whispered from the darkness.
“David?” he said.
The voice did not speak. Ambrose’s hand trembled along the wall. He finally found something. A plastic bump. It was a light switch. The hair on his neck stood up. It didn’t make any sense. Why was there a light switch in a tree house?
“ambbbbbrossssse…” the voice whispered. “doooo yooouuu wannnt toooo know????”
Ambrose searched the darkness. The wind stopped howling. And started hissing.
Ambrose swallowed past the dry lump in his throat.
“jusssstttt turn on the lightttttt.”
Ambrose braced his body, his face flush with terror.
“turnnnn onnn theeee lighttt, ammbrosssssSeeee.”
Ambrose turned on the light. He wasn’t in the tree house anymore.
Chapter 119
Christopher clung to his mother as she carried him through the fog, her feet pounding the mud back into the earth. The sheriff ran next to them, wincing from the pain in his side.
“Christopher, where do we go?” she asked.
Christopher closed his eyes and looked for a way out. He saw nothing but darkness. Ambrose was lost. They were being cornered. Forced like rats through a maze. His mother’s light was all that remained.
“Run past the bridge, Mom,” he whispered.
Christopher felt the billy goat bridge ahead of them. He knew a way out of the woods from the bridge even if he couldn’t see it. They could still make it. He could still save his mom. They passed the billy goat bridge. Christopher looked into her light. There was a path back to his house. As long as they had the tree house, he could always find the way out of the woods.
but i have the tree house now.
The voice tapped on the glass inside his mind. Suddenly the world went silent. His mother’s footsteps disappeared.
i’m waiting for you.
Christopher looked down the path just as they passed the billy goat bridge again.
“We just passed that bridge,” his mother said, confused.
“Where are we?!” the sheriff asked.
“Turn around, Mom,” Christopher said.
She raced past the billy goat bridge again. Running faster and faster down the path to their house.
Until they passed the bridge again.
you will never leave, christopher.
Everywhere they turned, they just ended up going back into the woods. Deeper and deeper. The shadow all around them. The voices in the fog. Hunting them. He remembered how the cloud lured him into the woods for the first time. He remembered when the child cried and then giggled. The child ran on all fours.
Like a deer.
There were two children on the path ahead of them. The children didn’t move. They just stood there.
“Mike! Matt! It’s me!” Christopher called out.
The boys turned around. Their eyes and mouths stitched together. They pointed and screamed through the thread.
“…HISTOPHER!”
The M&M’s ran straight at them. Christopher’s mother turned off the path. He could hear the pounding of feet coming at them. Hundreds of townspeople hunting them like rabbits. Jenny Hertzog and her stepbrother Scott jumped out with knives. Ms. Lasko ran behind with a broken bottle, scratching her own skin like a junkie. Christopher’s mother raced down the path, but there was no escape anymore. There was only the instinct to survive. The people were everywhere in the fog. Christopher could feel their rage. The woods were scorching with it. The voices were getting closer. The wind carried the chant.
“Death is coming. Death is here. You’ll die on Christmas Day.”
He felt Jerry running through the woods with a gun. The Collins family carrying saws and hammers from the construction site. The nice man’s voice twisted people’s minds like a knife. The blood ran from Christopher’s nose and eyes. His body getting hotter with every new voice. Every new person running through the woods.
“Mom,” he said weakly. “You have to save yourself.”
“No!” she screamed as her legs found another gear. “Tell me where to go!”
“There is nowhere to go, Mom.”
But she kept running. She would never give up. She looked for a tree to hide behind or climb, but suddenly, there were no trees. There was only light and fog. Christopher