Of the Trees(79)

“Ryan,” she said, speaking into the soft silence that descended. He hummed, looking over at her. A slow smile spread on her lips. “We are.”

It took him a moment, but then he understood that she was answering his first question, that yes, they were together. He smiled broadly at her before twisting the key in the ignition and starting the car back up.

The second carnival for that night was a bust, more unenthusiastic barkers and men who looked like they hadn’t showered, but not the things Laney had gone with. They weren’t there.





Cassie and Ryan tried again the weekend after that. They found more of the same. Cassie wasn’t surprised. Somehow she knew that Laney wouldn’t be at any of the carnivals, that the carnies didn’t really travel with them. It was a ruse, something they used to meet the girls away from parents, a way to watch them without calling attention to themselves. They didn’t need to do that anymore, they already found Laney.

And me.

The thought came unbidden but undeniable.

“Did you see that?” Ryan asked, peering over the wheel and through the windshield. Cassie looked up, taking note of where they were. They weren’t far from home. They would be in before dinner, which was good because Cassie was starving.

“What?” she asked, trying to focus on the trees through the windshield. She saw nothing unusual. The forest passed by her window in a blur, shadows elongated from behind the cold, gray bark into the darkened spaces beyond. The sun wasn’t quite set, but it would be soon.

The car slowed, and Ryan pulled over to the side of the road. “Lights,” he answered, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Cassie shrugged. “Probably a group of searchers giving it another go.”

“No, this was different,” he answered. “Like a lantern.”

Ryan opened his car door as a cold dread settled over Cassie. A lantern in the woods, a soft, bobbing, orange glow. She knew what was holding it.

For the space of a small second, Cassie contemplated not getting out of the car. It was safe. They could go, drive, get as far from the forest as they could, but Ryan was already stepping off the pavement and into the trees, the lantern bobbed just ahead of him. She cracked her door, her limbs wooden and heavy. Her lips parted, intending on calling out for him.

Another voice sounded first, soft but audible. It laughed. It called out. Unmistakable and undeniable.

Laney.





“Ryan, stop!” Cassie yelled. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, forcing a tight pressure into her throat. He darted ahead of her, following the light.

“I can hear her,” he called back. “Can’t you hear her?”

She could. But she knew, better than he did, that it wasn’t really Laney.

“It’s not Laney,” Cassie shouted. “Please, come back!”

He didn’t, he seemed to hardly hear her at all. The forest called to him, drawing him in with light and the mimicked voice of their friend. The pavement felt solid and sure under her feet, and she didn’t want to leave it. She called out to him again, straining to see his orange jacket through the dormant trees of the forest.

He didn’t stop.

She drew a strangled breath through her teeth and stepped off the road to follow him. The forest seemed to greet her, moving out of her way. Her feet didn’t catch on the lowlying brush, the dead branches didn’t whip at her face. It was easy, her path to Ryan and the light that twinkled beyond clear and free. She moved quickly, reaching out a hand and grabbing his arm when she drew near enough.

“I could swear she was right here,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He spun on the spot. The light had disappeared, and the trees had thickened. She couldn’t see the road from there and somehow doubted it would be easy to find. Just like the day she lost Laney to the trees, the forest would move, like a maze, and keep them there.

Cassie wasn’t sure why. Did Laney want to see her again? Did he?

“We should go,” Cassie said, tugging on his arm. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He nodded vaguely, spinning to face her. His gaze darted over her head, and she tensed, wondered if he could see something behind her, but he frowned benignly. “Which way?”

She tugged on his sleeve, letting her hand run down his arm and twine with his fingers. They were cold. They moved cautiously, the underbrush denser now. It caught at her toes more than once, jerking her forward and almost out of his grasp.

“I swore I heard her,” he muttered. “Didn’t you? Am I hearing things?”

“I heard something, too,” Cassie said. “I just don’t think it was her.”

Or if it was, it was a version of Laney that Ryan would not recognize.

“You came.” The voice was sweet, pleased. It floated through the trees, and Cassie stared straight ahead, not giving in to the desire to seek out his gaze.

“I thought you would,” it said a moment later, “for him.” There was an emphasis, slight yet unnerving. He hissed the last word, the sound cutting softly through the still air. Cassie didn’t respond. Ryan didn’t appear to have heard. She wondered, if Aidan walked in front of Ryan, eyed him face to face, would Ryan notice? Or, like the police and her mother, would he walk obliviously by, not realizing the menacing force that followed them.

A branch broke with a loud snap just up ahead, and Cassie jumped. Ryan squeezed her fingers, and she drew a deep breath. The woods ahead seemed endless. It had been so easy running into the forest, a clear, straight line. But now she was sidestepping fallen trees, getting tangled in pricker bushes. Roots sprang up to catch her shoes, and they had already walked far enough to get them in sight of the road, but they were still surrounded by forest.