Lost in the Never Woods(38)

There was something strange about his voice. It was pleasant and almost lazy. The low, deep timbre of someone who had just woken up. Whatever clothes he was wearing must have been black. He had his hands tucked into his pockets. His stance and tone were so casual—too casual, for the way her heart hammered in her chest, thudding out a warning in her pulse.

Wendy hesitated. “I—yes.”

Peter?

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he asked. She could just make out the shape of his eyebrows as they arched with curiosity. Wendy had seen Peter do that same head tilt, but no, it definitely wasn’t Peter. This guy’s hair was jet black, far darker than the rest of his face, which was still bathed in shadows.

“I live here,” she said curtly.

He laughed, and, for the first time, she could make out a distinct feature: his white teeth and sharp smile. Too white, too sharp, like a caricature.

Wendy squinted again. “Do I know you?” she asked. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, like it knew something she didn’t.

He grinned, and it stretched unnaturally across his face. “No, you don’t know me,” he told her. “I’ve seen you around, though.” Something about his eyes was unnerving. Black like a shark’s, but it must’ve been a trick of the darkness.

“I was going for a nice walk in the woods. Maybe you could join me? We could get to know each other,” he offered, extending a hand.

His fingers were long, the joints angular.

Wendy backed up. “No,” she said firmly, tilting her chin up. “I need to go back inside now. Please leave.”

The boy laughed again. “That’s probably for the best. You shouldn’t wander, not with all those kids going missing.” A far-off streetlight glinted in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to get lost in the woods again, would you?”

For a moment, she was so scared she couldn’t breathe, but fast on the heels of fear was white-hot anger. “What did you say?” Rage-induced bravery swelled inside her. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

A child’s scream cut through the air. She jumped and swung around toward the wail. It sounded like it had come from her backyard.

The stranger laughed again, but when Wendy turned back to face him, he was gone.

Another cry rang out, and this time it continued without stopping. It was a child.

And it was definitely coming from behind the backyard.

Without another thought, Wendy dropped her bag and ran for the gate. She raced along the side of the house, feet pounding on the cement. She tripped over the handle of a rake and sprinted into the backyard. It stretched out before her. The old swings waved in the breeze, and standing just past that on the other side of the small fence was a little boy. He continued to cry, and Wendy slowed her pace, taking cautious steps.

Closer now, she recognized the back of the little boy’s head, and his oversized blue hoodie.

“Alex?” Wendy said. The crying cut off abruptly. He remained still, facing the woods with his back to her. Wendy’s own breaths roared in her ears. “Alex, what are you doing here?” She slowly stepped closer to him.

Alex finally turned.

Small twigs and leaves were stuck in his mess of brown hair. His eyes were huge. Black pupils devoured any trace of his brown irises. Tears rolled down his dirt-stained cheeks.

“Alex, what happened?” she asked gently, extending a hand out for him to take. It quivered.

Something was very wrong. Not just the fact that he shouldn’t be here, in her backyard, but the stricken look on his face, the earthy smell in the breeze, even the deadly quiet that hung in the air.

Wendy’s eyes kept darting to the woods behind him. The dark trees loomed over Alex’s tiny form. She couldn’t see into them, but the feeling of something waiting there in the dark made her skin crawl.

“Alex.” Urgency leapt in her throat. “Take my hand—” Wendy lunged forward to grab him, hips slamming into the short fence, but before she could reach, Alex’s mouth opened wide.

He screamed with his whole body.

Wendy cringed as the sound’s sharpness split through her. She stumbled forward, nearly toppling over the fence as she tried to reach him. With a violent gust of cold wind, something like large, crooked fingers made of tar lashed out from the trees and ensnared Alex’s legs, knocking him to the ground. He scrabbled at the dirt, trying to claw his way toward Wendy, but the fingers dragged him to the trees.

“Alex!” Wendy screamed.

His eyes found hers. For a moment, she could clearly see his face—terrified and chalky, his fingers digging into the dirt—before the woods swallowed him whole.

Without pause, Wendy jumped the fence and ran straight into the forest.



* * *



The woods were alive.

It was hard to see a path through the brambles and gnarled roots. Wendy kept tripping, her forward momentum the only thing keeping her upright. The tree branches reached out at her like thorny arms, trying to pull her into a painful embrace. They slapped her cheeks, tangled in her hair, and bit her legs, but Wendy urged herself forward. Each footfall on the uneven ground jarred, ankle to knee, ankle to knee. She had to get to Alex. She wouldn’t let him be taken by the woods or whatever that thing was.

Wendy ran as fast as she could after Alex, straining her ears to guide her to his voice. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear his cries up ahead.