Weird Days

by Marcus Jayne

 

Smoke filled the sky and an ominous rustling noise blew through the fields.

 Frantic screams got louder; they had seen the farmhouse, lit up against the dark night.

 The young man finished tying his shoelace and stood, silhouetted against the chaos behind him. He let out a sigh. Of course, they realized how bad things were now. He broke into a run and quickly made his way over to the crowd of gasping, crying, and shouting people.

 Before he could even catch his breath, they were shouting questions. “Was it them?” “Where are they now?” “How could they do this?” Glancing back and forth between the terrified faces, he felt bad for them, but he also felt the frustration that had built over the past week as they'd ignored his warnings.

 “I told you something like this would happen!” he shouted. “I told you what they really are.”

 Across the crowd, mothers and fathers wrung their hands, wiped tears from their eyes, and whispered names and prayers. “They're just little kids!” someone shouted. “They're our babies!” someone else added.

 The young man shook his head. “They might be little, but they're not yours.” At the new round of gasps and shouts of outcry, he added “They're not in your control anymore. I've been trying to tell you!”

 Someone let out a strangled scream and someone else pointed. Everyone turned to look. In the firelight, emerging from the corn field, the horde was coming. In their worn out velcro'd sneakers and hand-me-down overalls and t-shirts, the small children marched in unison. Their eyes glowed a sickly white, the most visible parts of their shadowy faces. They made no sound except the rhythmic crunching of their tiny footsteps.

 The crowd of adults, despite more than one longing look being sent towards the kids, began shuffling backwards.

 The deputy mayor, trying to keep his feet from being stomped on, shouted “What are they doing? Are they coming to us?”

 In the growing terror, no one could answer, until a few seconds after the children stopped, still a hundred yards away. The farmer lurched forward, waving his arms futilely. “The barn! They're going to burn it down too!”

 Several pairs of hands restrained him by grabbing his plaid shirt. “You can't stop them!” shouted the sheriff. “Do you want to end up like Fred?” asked one of the deputies.

 “They're right,” cried his wife, tugging on his arm. “We can't do anything about them now.”

 The sound of the children's laughter startled the crowd, who turned to look at them. They stood, staring, standing in the same way like a collection of matching statues, and their faces were lit more brightly as the barn burst into flames.

 One of the mothers collapsed on the ground, wailing. Many others in the crowd were sobbing.

 The young man sighed again, but noting that the children weren't advancing anymore, but had taken to playing a spookily robotic round of ring around the rosy, he motioned to the crowd of adults.

 “This way!” he shouted. He led them around the side of the old fruits and vegetables stand. With their sight of the children partially blocked, they seemed to become slightly calmer. Their eyes were all on him now.

 “Marcus, what do we do?” asked the hardware store clerk.

 “How do we stop them?” asked the president of the PTA from the back of the crowd.

 The young man called Marcus shook his head grimly. “Been trying to tell you, you can't.”

 “There must be a way,” said the bartender, and several voices in the crowd echoed her.

 A horrible sound rung through the night. The farmhouse was collapsing, beams crumpling in the flames. Marcus took a breath.

 “Only thing to do now,” he sighed, “Is get to safety.” He turned away from the fiery farm buildings and took a step. The people shouted protests behind him.

 “They're ours, we can't just leave them!” shouted a deputy.

 Marcus continued to walk, but a hand reached out for his. He stopped for a minute and faced the teacher. There were tears in her eyes. “Please, you don't know what it's like. Having children.” He paused for a moment and looked at her sympathetically but then he gently pulled his hand from her grasp.

 The teacher's friend stepped up and patted her friend's back, saying, “You don't know how scary it is. How much you worry, bringing them into the world.”

 Nearby, the farmer smirked, “I'd be more worried about the world right now.”

 Several people shouted back at him, but Marcus, unable to stay silent any longer, cut them off. “He's right! You brought them into a world that they're far better at handling than you are. You thought they'd make it better for you, but really, they'll make of it what they want, and you're just standing in the way. You shouldn't worry about them. Worry about yourselves! You're the ones who don't fit.”

 He braced himself for the angry shouts of “That's not true!” but they were mixed in with confusion and wailing, and farther off, the eerie high pitched laughter that had preceded so much of the destruction that had rained down on Jericho the past week.

 Marcus turned once more, hoping to get to safety himself, but this time it was the sheriff who grabbed his arm. “We still need you, Marcus,” he said. “We need your help, and a plan.”

 “It's too bad we don't have a really big playpen,” muttered the deputy at the sheriff's side.

 “I'm serious, we need to figure this out!” shouted the sheriff. He managed to regain some of the crowd's attention. They were clearly beginning to notice his trademark bug-eyed expression of panic.

 “We should try to split them up somehow!” someone shouted. “Loud noises!” came from someone else. Marcus rolled his eyes.

 “Food. Make all the food we can and call them to dinner,” suggested the farmer.

 “Knock 'em out with something!” the med centre orderly was shouting. “Something low dose,” he added as angry looks went his way.

 The bartender was saying something about music, competing to be heard over the farmer who still wanted to make dinner, as the deputy muttered, “I still think you should call up your old friend.”

 “'Cause that worked so well the first time,” sighed Marcus.

 The suggestions continued, now including bringing in dogs to herd them, scaring them with clown costumes, and modelling calm behaviour while sitting down in the field. Marcus tried to calm them down, but he was distracted by a whole new sound coming from another direction. He peered through the darkness, trying to make out what was approaching. The ground was rumbling.

 “Maybe we could just point them in the direction of – of – that!” suggested the engineer.

 The sheriff let out a low, anxious whistle. “Is that - ?”

 “New Bern's newest weapon,” said Marcus in a quiet voice.

 The rumbling grew louder as it grew closer, and now the gathered townspeople could make out footsteps, and then, could see the huge legs thundering towards them.

 “Son of a -” breathed the sheriff. Marcus could only stare.

 It was taller than a two story building. Its massive feet divided into razor sharp claws that could crush a small car. It seemed part reptilian but its head was more like a giant bird of prey, with a sharp fringe of feathers and a cruel beak. The arms that swung in front of it were gorilla-like, crushing obstacles in its path with mighty fists. Every few steps, it paused to throw its head back and spit on the ground nearby. Each time, the ground sizzled and a cloud of black smoke floated into the air.

 The townspeople were suddenly quiet. A few of them were trembling, and others were stock still.

 The creature flapped its giant, bat-like wings, and raised itself up on its haunches. It opened its beak.

 “Here it comes,” muttered Marcus, covering his ears.

 The creature let out a piercing shriek that ripped through the night. It was worse than ten jackhammers being dragged across a glass floor by one hundred rabid cats.

 The townspeople were all cowering, covering their ears, and some looked quite faint.

 The farmer was the first to stand again, and he strained his eyes, looking beyond the creature. “What the hell?” he breathed.

 Coming up behind the creature were dozens of trucks, which seemed to have been covered with tree branches and barbed wire, glistening in the starlight. The first in line was no ordinary truck. Rising ten feet above the ground, it was a black painted, souped up monster truck. The box where the driver rode had an open window, and sticking out of the window was a megaphone.

 “Citizens of Jericho,” boomed a voice they all recognized instantly. “Just like we promised, we're back.” Phil Constantino broke into a fit of maniacal laughter before taking a breath and getting back into his speech. “It might have taken a while, but we did it. We scoured the country for the tools we'd need, the technology that would make us invincible, and now we are unstoppable. Resistance is futile. Give up now and we will let you live.”

 The shock of the moment before was wearing off and suddenly the townspeople were arguing again about what to do, though now they were frantic.

 “Run!”

 “We have to fight, somehow.”

 “You want to be New Bern's next lapdog? I say we don't get caught!”

 “What about the children? Think of the children!”

 “Uh, hey, guys,” cut in the refugee farmhand. He pointed in the direction away from the New Bern invaders, where the sight of the children frolicking was blocked by the burning buildings. The burning farmhouse was trembling more than it had before. Suddenly, with a sickening tearing sound, the blazing roof was lifted right from the house. It rose up into the air, hovering.

 The adults stopped screaming, crying, and arguing. Even the New Bern vehicles and monster seemed to have been thrown into paralysis, waiting for what was coming.

 And they were coming. Across the field, row by row, steps in perfect unison. Eyes aglow, arms at their sides, humming. And the burning roof kept hovering.

 The horrible creature seemed to sense it coming before anyone else did. It backed up slightly, its claws scratching deep into the earth.

 The horde stopped, planting their feet firmly in one movement. They looked up, and in unison, each lifted one hand, making a sweeping gesture. They spoke all at once, shouting the same thing, “Bad dog!”

 The burning rooftop hurtled towards the beast. It let out a terrible roar as the wreckage collided with its torso, rearing back and batting furiously at the sparkling splinters. Scratching wildly at itself, it sent pieces of shingles and wood in all directions.

 The New Bern vehicles were all trying to get out of the way, as the beast was now lurching, half blindly as it still batted embers away from its face. It stomped wildly in the direction of its attackers. As it lumbered into their midst, the tiny terrors scattered, but remained organized, shouting in surprise as one.

 Their parents also dashed about in a frenzy.

 “No!” some of them shouted. Some screamed their child's name. Some screamed and dove out of the way as debris showered in their direction too.

 Some began running right into the battle now, blindly attempting to reach their child. “Idiots!” shouted the sheriff. “We'll never – we can't -” He tried to grab the farmer's arm, but the farmer shook him off.

 Several adult bodies were on the ground now as several were trampled by the rampaging beast. The sound of gunfire riddled the air. Constantino and his men had begun firing the huge automatic weapons they'd mounted on the tops of their trucks. The children seemed to have learned a defence for this too, as the bullets didn't hit them but stopped, frozen, two feet in front of them. Wall after wall of metal bullets surrounded them, froze in a glittering ring, and fell to the ground. They retaliated, sending more pieces of rubble flying at the invaders.

 Most of the bodies that flung through the air and landed in chaotic positions were those of the parents running across the battlefield. A few reached their children but were blasted out of the way before they could threaten a timeout or offer a dessert bribe.

 Some had begun to flee, realizing the futility of their efforts. A few had taken shelter by an overturned wagon. “Got any bright ideas?” the deputy mayor shouted at his brother.

 “I'm thinking, jeez,” said the mayor. An explosion erupted near their group and several people screamed.

 They were drowned out by the sounds of battle and a new sound – a helicopter.

 “What's that?” asked the sheriff.

 It was not just one helicopter, but a whole fleet of them, swooping in from the night sky. The sheriff turned to glare accusingly at his deputy. “I called our old friend,” shrugged the deputy. “It had to be done.” The sheriff sunk his head into his hands.

 As the booms of the military helicopters signalled their entrance into the fight, Marcus was silhouetted again, his outline contrasting with the fiery sky behind him. He walked determinedly forward.

 He had almost crossed to the edge of the driveway when a hand grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” asked the deputy.

 “Away from here,” said Marcus.

 “Away from your home?” asked the deputy, his eyebrows raised. “How can you leave this behind?”

 Marcus looked back over the man's shoulder. A helicopter was spiralling towards the ground, a huge hole torn out of its side. The army seemed to be faring the worst in the fight, with the other helicopters too busy dodging the fiery rays shooting out of the children's eyes and the jerky arm movements of the beast to do much damage themselves.

 Marcus looked back at the deputy. “I'm doing what I've known I have to do for a while. Go someplace away from all this. This doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to survive somewhere.”

 Ignoring the deputy's sputtering reaction, Marcus turned towards the open road. In contrast from the incandescent light of the sky behind him, the way ahead was black.

 He walked forward in the night, putting his hands in his pockets and giving a grim sigh as a helicopter exploded somewhere behind him.

 He walked for a long time until he came to the place where he'd been keeping the motorbike, for when he needed it.

 He rode into the black night, not knowing where he was going. Only that he was going away from this crazy town with its silly leaders and insane enemies and stupid classes with stupid assignments that no one really should have to do.

 

 

 Putting the stapled together story in her hands down on the desk in front of her, Emily Sullivan sighed.

 She leaned back in her chair, listening for a moment to the quiet of school in the late afternoon.

 It had been a surprise, she supposed, that Marcus had even handed in an assignment. She'd been surprised, a month ago, when he'd shown up to join the literacy class. His enthusiasm had been about the same level it had been back when he was originally a full time student at Jericho High, in the days before the bombs, but at least he hadn't been staging walk-outs this time. He'd grumbled at the longer reading assignments, but had once made a joke that reading Nineteen Eighty-Four was better than growing beets.

 She found herself smiling a little as she leafed back to the beginning of the story. So it had ended on a sarcastic note. At least there had been some intense use of imagery. She made a quick note on the last page, and put it to the side for now.

 Glancing at the window, noticing the slightly darker sky, she decided she had time to read a few more before it was time to head out. She glanced down at the pile. Sean Henthorn's name was scrawled across the top of the next story. Bracing herself, she picked it up and began reading.

 

 

 

 

True Love Totally Bites

By Sean Henthorn

 

It was back the year of the bombs that the stranger came to town.

She had long, dark hair, strange clothes, and spoke strangely.

She came from somewhere far away and she misunderstood the local customs.

She gave death glares to all who crossed her and arched her eyebrows in a totally terrifying way.

She invaded a farmhouse on the edge of the town, where its inhabitants learned she didn't eat their kind of food, liked to stay up all night and sleep through the day, and mostly kept out of the sunlight.

But this isn't her story. This story is about a girl who lived in the farmhouse, long before the dark haired stranger came to town. A girl who was touched by death at an early age, who could make anyone laugh with a few good faces, and who had the secrets of the world in her smile.

She was the youngest child of the farmers who'd lived in the house until their untimely death in a car crash years before the bombs. Her older brother would tell you that he raised her, but she'd say they raised each other. They took care of the farm and lived their lives quietly in the town where their family had always lived. The brother loved to hang out with his friends from the old days, when he'd been a football star and an all around popular guy, and he spent a lot of time at the local bar, where everyone knew him.

Everyone knew her too, but they also didn't know her. She spoke a whole other language than they did and she saw things they didn't. She knew about things they didn't, things about life and death that the other kids at school didn't know, and things about growing up that her brother and his friends didn't know.

She looked hard at things, and she laughed hard, and she was almost never afraid.

These are some of the reasons why the creature of the night noticed her.

His story goes back further than hers, further than her brother and even her parents. He was touched by death when he was young too, but he didn't survive it like she did. He became something else, a monster lurking in the shadows, hunting for prey at night and hiding from life during the day.

It wasn't all bad. He wasn't like one of those vampires with a soul, or who's turned into a vegan or something. He had some fun times and he went all over the country. He went to parties in New York, and concerts in New Orleans, and in the sixties he was all over the west coast. He passed through wars and earthquakes, diseases and fires. At the beginning it would give him a rush, knowing how he could survive all the things the living humans couldn't. But over time it started to feel boring. He started to get tired of the way things stretched out forever but were always the same.

He had lived this life of darkness for over a hundred years when he decided to rest for a bit. He went to Kansas, to a small town with lots of farms, and decided to lay low. He fed off cows and deer a lot, not because he was going soft like some kind of lame monster, but so he could stay put for a while. He still hunted his favourite kind of prey sometimes, especially ones he thought no one would miss – traveling salesmen, crazy people living out on the edge of town, lost jackrabbit hunters, that sort of thing. But he could make do too.

It was the year of the bombs that everything changed. The bombs left him feeling restless. He wasn't sure why. In the old days he used to be the one causing the death and destruction. Now, it didn't have the same buzz.

He wondered to himself sometimes, if he were to go out into the wild, find these places where the bombs hit, would he still be okay? Were vampires indestructible, even up against radiation?

The townspeople were strange after the bombs too. They were way more vulnerable than him, weren't they? But they kept going, acting like things would be back to normal one day. They didn't know how normal things already were. Death and destruction were normal. More normal than Oreos and cellphones. You always knew they were coming, at some point. Even as a vampire, you knew someday you'd slip up and somebody would notice you.

He took to hanging out with some of the wilder townspeople. The thief who wanted to be a murderer. The teenagers who wanted to be bad. It made him feel something besides tired. It was during this time that she noticed him.

She looked at him across a group of teenagers, fighting in a street. He couldn't tell exactly what that look meant, then, but he had a weird feeling there was something in them that was the same.

There was no reason why he should think that. She was the opposite of him in so many ways. She was nothing like a creature of the night. Everything about her was made of light, from her hair, to her face, to the way she moved, and her laugh. But she stared at him, all intense, and there were shivers on his neck.

He knew of course there'd be trouble if he spoke to her. He'd heard enough of the stories to know there always was. He knew he would never want to bite her – there was just something too alive about her to think of doing that – but he wouldn't want her to have to stab him with a sword and send him to a hell dimension, or have a dutch doctor dude chasing him all over the country. He couldn't help but smile at her, but he made himself turn away.

She was the one who came looking for him. In the early part of an evening, she came up to his car and knocked on the window. She stared at him, smiling up from under her eyelashes. If he'd had breath, he would've been winded. She was asking something, he could tell, though it had been so long since anyone had asked anything of him.

“Don't you have a curfew or something?” he asked.

She shook her head and her chin was raised high. “No,” she said.

It was a bad idea he knew. Going anywhere with this living girl. Part of him didn't care. It was a thrill, electric-like, when he opened the door and she climbed inside. He was reckless again, driving forward and staring straight ahead. Having her so close to him brought back an old feeling. It was like throwing burning cars or chasing cocky protestors. Like that time he'd climbed up Golden Gate Bridge or the time he'd picked a fight with the leader of a whole vampire gang. Riding around in the car with her, taking her to his favourite haunts and letting her show him hers, it was like all the mayhem and explosions he'd ever caused. He ran his fingers through her silky hair and ran his hands on her warm skin, and she held him tightly and breathed his name quietly and it was a little like dying, as he remembered it. And a little like living.

She wanted to feel like living-dying-chaos too. She met him in the dark, laughing and telling tales about her latest escape from chores and rules and her annoying brother and his annoying stranger girlfriend. He never told her not to, or worried about her being in trouble. He hadn't been that kind of guy, even a hundred years ago, so he couldn't pretend he didn't love watching her be wild. They made trouble, they made love, they made jokes and stories, all under a cover of darkness in a town without stars.

Her family hated him. They knew where she was going when she went out to meet him, and her brother made it clear how much he didn't like it.

“It's okay,” she said one time, as they sat watching the river in the early evening. “He'll be okay, one day.”

He didn't say anything. It'd been a long time since he had any family around so he figured he shouldn't mess with hers.

“It's like him, and her...” she trailed off, scowling as she usually did when she talked about her brother's new girlfriend, the stranger in town who turned out to be an accountant. “They drive me crazy and I want to punch them both in the face sometimes.” She looked down at her lap, and then back at the river. “But I never will. 'Cause he likes her. And I guess she likes him. Nice to see him happy. Even if he is an idiot.” She laughed.

“So what do you think he sees when he sees me?” he asked, playing with a piece of her hair.

“An idiot,” she said with a smirk. He shook his head, just pretending a little bit that he was insulted.

“Don't worry,” she said, reaching over to take his chin in her hand, turning his face towards her. “I like you.”

He grinned and leaned in to kiss her, not saying what he felt with his words.

He knew how much she loved her family, even when she made fun of them. Her brother had to leave and work in a nearby town for a while, and he could tell how sad she was, even though she didn't say it out loud much. Mostly she'd just complain about how her brother's girlfriend slept all day and was completely useless at cooking and taking care of the animals and fixing things on the farm. It never surprised him when she would sometimes get that sad, faraway look in her eyes, and he would know she was wondering how things were going for her brother and if he would ever come home.

He was surprised by the question she asked him one day. “Move in with you?” he asked. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

“I trust you,” she said. She never had any reason to. He never hurt her but he was a monster still, through and through. He could go out and bite half the people in town and the only thing stopping him really was that he liked it there and wouldn't want to move somewhere else. But somehow when she said things like she trusted him, it made him want to prove her right instead of wrong.

They moved him in under the cover of some tarps in the back of her truck, so he wouldn't get caught in the sun, one morning before the other occupant of the house was awake. She wasn't happy when she found out, but there wasn't much she could do. She'd heard he was bad news from the bartender in town (who'd had a near run-in with him once a long time ago and had worn a silver cross around her neck ever since) but she couldn't convince the girl to forget about him and move on with someone more approved.

She sent her death glares at him whenever she could, and though he knew they couldn't hurt him (they were a little less potent than holy water or wooden stakes), he was a little bit impressed. Maybe because she was part of his girlfriend's family (much as she would hate to admit it), he found himself trying a little bit to impress her. He helped around the farm, helped with the house, and stayed nearby. He gave up hunting for a time, trying to survive on what they ate, hoping it would gross them out less if he didn't show off his different lifestyle. It was hard. Their food was running so low they barely ever had meat. There were vegetables and rice a lot of the time, which is kind of like eating paper all the time for a vampire, but he did his best.

Luckily since it was winter the nights were longer than the days and he could spend time everywhere in the house and yard, trying to keep himself from getting too restless. His girlfriend helped, and he was happy to be there with her, riding horses, building fires, and laughing at her brother's girlfriend behind her back. Still, living like someone who was, well, living was hard to keep up for a long time.

They never knew how close he came. One morning, before the sun had risen, he was lying beside her, all twisted up in the sheets and sweaty. She'd fallen asleep and her face was peaceful. He couldn't sleep yet because it was so close to dawn, when he'd have to go down to the cellar to avoid the sunlight. Something else was bothering him though. He realized it was hunger, something he hadn't really felt like this for a long time.

Food had gotten really tight and he'd been trying to leave more for them whenever he could. Being alive took them so much energy. Now the food was almost gone anyway, and he couldn't stop thinking about finding something to taste, to sink his teeth into, and breathe in.

She moved a little in her sleep and he stared at her exposed skin. She was so beautiful, and so warm, and so nearby and he could hear her heart thudding, sending blood all through her veins. He leaned over and quickly threw another quilt over her. Turning away, he stood and went out into the hallway.

His feet took him downstairs and into the kitchen. The fridge only had one bowl of sprouts in it. They needed the sprouts, he knew it. He sighed and started to walk back to the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, he heard a loud sigh. He looked over at the bedroom door. It was the farmer's girlfriend's room, and she was tossing and turning in her sleep. He waited, super still, in her doorway, all the nerves in his body tingling. If his heart was still alive, he was sure he would have heard it pounding. Now he could only hear hers.

He opened the door slowly and looked inside. There she was, sleeping still, happily unaware of him standing over her. She was wearing a hat and a pair of mittens and nearly buried under five blankets, but a flash of pale skin at the place where her neck and shoulder met caught his eye. He stepped slowly forward, hoping the floor wouldn't creak and thinking about his options.

No one would really miss her, would they? A stranger in town with barely any friends and easily lifted right out of the workforce since she didn't do much but make messes around the farm. Of course the brother would notice eventually, if he ever came back, but if he didn't, the vampire and his lover could have the whole place to themselves. Or maybe they'd leave and travel across the country, and he'd have fun like old times but better because she'd be there.

She wouldn't be there, he realized. Because she wouldn't leave this place she looked after. And he'd better hope her brother came home, because he could see how crushed she would be if he didn't. And even if the brother could be convinced it was an accident, she would always know. And much as she pretended to hate this brother-doing accountant, she wouldn't forgive him if he took her away from them. They were more than important to her, they were weirdly part of her that he couldn't imagine ripping away.

It was messy and sharp and almost too much and he had to get out of there. He backed up quickly and shut the door, going as fast as he could to the fridge and eating the bowl of sprouts in a few mouthfuls. Like bits of wax paper. But they made things better for a while. The accountant was pretty steamed when she noticed the sprouts were gone, but he just told her, “I was hungry.” She gave him another one of her glares and he reminded himself again that he couldn't have done it. Besides, he would have missed her funny stories about the idiotic things she'd seen going on each time she took a trip into town.

He managed to make do after that, going hunting sometimes to make sure he would survive, but sticking around to make sure things were okay at home. Eventually the big brother came home and he was really steamed that a vampire was living at his house. It took a while, but she convinced her brother eventually that things were okay. The vampire couldn't help but be impressed. He sometimes thought that if she wanted to, she could get the leaders of warring nations to shake hands.

Things were going pretty well until they became part of an actual warring nation. The town next door started making weapons and planned to attack their town. Her brother was in the middle of things at first but soon it was hanging over all of them. Mayhem and murder was coming to town again, and the vampire felt a restlessness stirring in him.

On the eve of the war, he left her behind, sitting around the kitchen table with her family, and snuck across the fields and roads. He went all the way to New Bern, the town that had declared war. He had to see what he could do. He easily took out the team of border guards, piling their bodies alongside the bags of sand they reinforced their blockade with. Going further into town, he found a warehouse where some of the weapons were stored. There must have been nine or ten guards he ran into as he ran up and down the halls, taking note of the whole stockade. It felt too easy, cornering them against the brick walls, trapping them with his fists, twisting their necks to hear the noise of an easy twig snapping. But once the rooms where quiet and he took in all the explosives, he felt suddenly a lot smaller. There were so many of them, more than he could even move out of there and hide somewhere in one night, and each one could rip through the farmhouse and blow his beautiful funny alive farm girl into bloody dead pieces.

“Hey!” shouted a voice, and the vampire spun around and closed his fist around the neck of another guard. The guard's eyes looked like they would pop out of his head as the vampire stepped closer, squeezing the man's neck. The man tried to whisper something, maybe to beg for mercy or make a last request, but he couldn't choke one word out before the creature sunk his fangs into his neck. The blood had a weird taste to it, like metal, and the vampire stepped back, spitting on the ground. The man slumped to the ground and the vampire took off running, knowing where he needed to be.

He raced the rest of the way back to the farmhouse at the edge of the small town. She was waiting, watching out her window, and he waved to her to come out.

“Come out here,” he said as he pulled her along, making certain she could see his lips in the moonlight. He could smell her fear but also the sense of excitement as she looked at him, waiting to see what he wanted.

“I have to tell you something,” he said. She nodded. He held both her hands in his. “Look, I tried to stop them. I thought, being strong as I am, maybe I could stop what's coming. But I can't. No one can. There's no way you can win this.”

Her eyes went from excited to sad to understanding. “Thank you,” she said. “For trying.” She reached a hand to the side of his face. A tear slipped down her cheek and he reached to brush it away. His hand traveled down her cheek, towards her neck. Her breathing, even when she was scared, was so hypnotizing. She smiled at him through her tears.

What he wanted caught him with a blaze. He wanted her, forever. He didn't want it to stop. He held her tightly and leaned in, baring his teeth.

Before he could sink his teeth into her neck, she jumped back and pushed him away with all her strength. “What are you doing?” she shouted.

He couldn't say anything. He stood like an idiot with his mouth open, staring at her in shock.

She signed something she'd never signed at him before, and stormed off to the house, tears in her eyes.

He stared after her and it was like time stood still. He couldn't understand how his chest could hurt so much, without breathing lungs and a beating heart. It was ruined. The eve of destruction and he'd destroyed what mattered most. Just before the sun began to rose, he ran over to hide in a shed near the barn.

It was there that she found him, a little time after. He was sitting with his head in his hands, on the dirt floor. She sat up on an old piece of equipment and looked down at him. “We're leaving soon. The fight's going to start. I couldn't go without saying goodbye.”

He nodded, still looking down. “I'm sorry,” he said.

She folded her arms. “I know. It's who you are.”

He sat up. “I said I'd never hurt you, but that wasn't what I was doing. I wanted to save you. Keep you from getting hurt.” He almost reached for her, but put his hand down again. “I didn't want to lose you. I thought we could be together forever.”

She looked at him for a long time. He wondered if she was thinking about her dead parents, her brother's girlfriend who'd lost all the people in her life in the bombs, her brother's close call with the radiation. He wondered if she'd imagined her life with him, and how long she'd seen it going on for.

“I could give that to you,” he said, slowly standing up. “I could give you life forever. You wouldn't be hurt by this war. You could be stronger, harder.”

She looked away for a while, but finally looked back at him, stood, and took his hand in hers. “I know. But it's not the life I want.” She looked over at the door. “I want the life I can have out there.”

He understood. She belonged out there. In a world of sunshine. Of brothers, friends, family that remembers your past and watches you change. He didn't belong to that world, but it was hers and he could never expect her to give it up.

She started to say something. “Go,” he muttered. She looked at him, and in her eyes he could see as much fear as he felt. “You belong with them. Go,” he repeated.

She gave him a small nod. They stared at each other for a moment that stretched out for ages. She made a move like she was about to leave, but she stepped towards him and kissed him. It was like their kisses had always been, fiery and icy and loud and calm and he wanted to hold on forever. He waited til she let go, and he turned away as she walked to the door. He crouched and covered his face as she opened the door and stepped out into the sun.

All day he listened to the sounds of the humans fighting each other with metal and fire. He could do nothing as long as the sun shined and through everything that happened, it did. It wasn't until the sun set that he could go find out what had happened. He felt a jolt of happiness as he saw her, walking back to the house with her brother and his girlfriend. The dust had begun to settle and everything was a mess, but they were together, smiling, hugging each other, and they would continue to live and change and be a part of their world. Part of him wanted to stop and stare at her forever, freeze her smiling face, her happy family, in his mind. But he began walking away. He made his way again through the fields, across the bridge, along the roads, only this time he wasn't going to New Bern. He didn't know where he was going, only that he was going away from her and leaving her behind in the world she needed to be in.

It was like he was back to his old life. That was what he told himself. He traveled to cities and small towns, hiding out in dive bars and abandoned warehouses. He got in fights, caused chaos, and killed without worrying about being found out. He laid low by moving constantly and he told himself the adrenaline was what made it worth it. The thing was, it was a different feeling, when he fought now. It wasn't just fun, excitement, something to make him less bored. Sometimes he tore up a bar room or beat up a soldier, and found himself screaming a loud scream of rage. And her face was always there in his mind. Always. But he had to keep moving, so he did.

He began to adjust, but he still kept a few reminders of his old life. He had a button she'd given him, with a picture of a duck on it, that he kept in his pocket. A piece of string that'd held one of his shirts together when it started to tear during his days of working on the farm. And now and then, he would listen in on the phone calls and messages coming out of their area, just to make sure things were going okay. It was because of this that he first learned of the bad news.

A Jericho local was trying to reach a family member who was out of town. Said she had to come home quickly because something bad had happened. A tragedy. Their friends needed them. And she'd said their name.

He got back there as quickly as he could, but it was far too late. The house was empty but one of the neighbours told him of her death and how the others were in hiding. He ran back to the house and went inside. There were only a few signs of the struggle that'd taken place. But he could feel her all around. He'd just missed her. There but gone. He let out a loud, wordless scream and sunk to the floor.

The next day, just as the sun set, the accountant found him sitting on the back porch. She'd been hurt too, he could see, and she looked tired. She gave him a wordless nod and sat down carefully.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

He looked at her and wondered if she was crazy. Her arm was in a sling and she looked like she hadn't slept for days. He just said “I'm sorry too.”

They sat in silence for a while. Finally, he said “Was it fast?”

“What?” she asked.

“I keep thinking,” he said. “That if I'd been here in time, I could've saved her. Kept her alive. Kept her with us.”

Her sister wiped tears off her face with her free hand. “It was too fast.”

The creature of the night didn't have the heart to go back to his old ways again after this. He stayed on the edge of town, in a shack, and fed himself when he got too hungry. He didn't talk much to anyone and sometimes he thought about stepping out in the sunlight and seeing what the burn would feel like. Most of the time, he imagined it again and again. Him realizing something was wrong, running back to town, getting between her and the gunman in the nick of time, or just catching her, biting her, making her better before her heart stopped.

He knew, somewhere deep down, that it wasn't what she wanted. But what could she want now? It seemed more impossible, than war, than the new flag, than vampires and monsters being real, that she could be gone.

And he stayed alive. He couldn't quite make himself gone, though he wasn't always sure he was anywhere. He sometimes went to where she was buried, though he couldn't imagine her there at all. She wasn't like him, put into a coffin but real and now. Hers hadn't been a beginning.

Once in a while, when he was nearby, he'd go nearer the house and watch them. The accountant and the farmer, the only remaining child of the people who'd farmed the land before. They had their bad days, and some good ones. Sometimes they sat on their porch still, just the two of them, leaning on each other's shoulders, and sometimes they were there with friends, laughing and joking.

One evening, just after sunset, he stood under the tree where he'd once sat with her. They didn't realize he was there and they were busy paying attention to their own conversation. The farmer held his wife's hand in his lap and the accountant rested her head on her husband's shoulder.

The little girl with long, whispery hair ran in the grass in front of them, reaching her hands towards the fireflies. She never caught them but laughed and kept trying again and again.

She never would have been happy, away from this, he knew. This was the world she loved, and it was a world that would always include her, somehow, even if he couldn't understand it. It wasn't his world. But he was glad he had never again tried to take it from her.

Her family whispered softly in the glowy porch lights. He turned and walked into the night.

 

 

 

“Hey stranger. Ready for some time off?”

Emily jumped slightly in her chair and quickly swiped at her eyes.

Heather had been standing in the doorway but she came into the room and surveyed her friend with a concerned look. “Oh no, you okay?”

Heather was already pulling up a chair beside her but Emily chuckled slightly and wiped her face again. Moments like this had been hitting her now and then, always unexpectedly, but they weren't usually brought about by reading students' assignments.

“And Sean,” she whispered in dismay.

“What'd he do now?” asked Heather cautiously.

Emily glanced down at the paper on her desk. “I wasn't expecting them to take this assignment so seriously.”

Heather smiled slightly, apparently satisfied that true disaster had not yet struck. “That's a good sign, right? That they really are buying into this 'just because you're adults and part of the town now doesn't mean a bit more education won't be helpful' thing?”

“Yeah, you're right,” nodded Emily, smiling herself. The once a week evening class she'd been teaching to this group of teens had been a hard sell at first, to the town and to the teens, but she had to admit she was pleased with these early results. Not that she should start bragging about victory yet, but it was a good start. And she still couldn't believe Sean had finally figured out metaphors. “It is a good sign,” she nodded.

Heather touched a hand to her friend's arm briefly and smiled. “So, you almost ready to go?”

Emily nodded. “I should write something on this one,” she motioned down at Sean's paper.

Heather nodded. “Well, I've still got to pick up something for my costume from Mrs. Weinberg. So take your time if you want to work on anything else. I'll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” agreed Emily. She nodded again to her friend as Heather stood and went back into the hall. She scribbled a few notes on the last page of Sean's story and placed it on top of Marcus's.

Leaning back in her chair, stretching her arms in front of her, she considered the others in the pile. If Heather was talking to Mrs. Weinberg, kindergarten teacher and infamous gossip, it would probably be at least fifteen minutes til she was back. Probably time for at least one more.

She reached for the next in the pile. Allison's neat handwriting was scrawled across the front page. The young Hawkins was proving herself to be an engaged and enthusiastic participant in the class, but Emily was most intrigued to finally read some of her work. She felt like she might first get a glimpse into the mysterious side of Allison that she only hinted at during class discussions so far.  

 

Monsterhood and Other Growing Pains

by Allison Hawkins

 

“I don't think I've ever had this much fun in Jericho!”

A woman and a man were walking through the intersection of Main Street and Spruce Lane. They had just come from Bailey's tavern, where lights still glowed in the windows and the faint sound of music and voices could be heard. The street was empty, except for them. The woman was smiling, and the man stepped forward in a dorky swagger.

“Well, our nightlife isn't as exciting as Chicago, I guess, but you know what they say about sticking with the locals if you want to really discover what a small town has to offer,” he said, giving a funny nod of his head.

She raised her eyebrows. “I'll keep that in mind.” She shivered just slightly.

“Here, take my jacket,” said the man, draping it around her shoulders. She eyed the sheriff's department logo before looking back at him. “Thanks,” she said softly. “You know, Bill, I've had a really good time tonight.”

He was obviously trying to look suave, but it came out awkwardly as he said “I have too.”

“Really, since I've been here, no one's ever really taken time to -”

“They should,” he said with a shy smile. “You're really – I've never met anyone like – I'm really glad you came to town.”

Her face fell for a moment, and he grimaced. “Well, I mean, not glad for the reason you had to come, just...” he shifted his feet. “Hey, do you want to see the office?” He motioned towards town hall.

She looked at him questioningly. “Is there a lot of exciting paperwork in there or something?”

He chuckled. “Well, that, and you can see where we keep the guns, where we throw all the suspects we round up...”

She was grinning. He touched her hand. “Come on, Corey. The night is young! And I have the keys.” He dangled a shiny ring. She laughed and linked her arm with his.

As they were walking towards the front steps of town hall, a figure jumped out from the alley and blocked their path. It wore raggedy clothes and stood with a humanlike posture, but its scaly blue skin, bright orange pustules, and row of spiky horns were very non-human.

Each of the humans let out a surprised shriek. The creature advanced towards them, raising its clawed hands. The couple clutched at each other and shrunk back. “Prepare to feel my wrath!” growled the creature.

“Now there's a line with a little dust on it,” said another voice. The two humans spun around. There, behind them, stood a young girl, her arms crossed in front of her chest, surveying the scene. “Can't you guys ever come up with anything original?”

“Behold, my power!” shouted the creature, raising his fists.

“Guess not,” said the girl with a shrug. As the lovebirds dove out of the way, the creature and girl raced towards each other, colliding in a tangle of punches and kicks. The creature's wrath seemed indeed powerful, but the girl was more than a match for him, ducking, rolling, jumping and attacking. At last, she got the upper hand and descended upon him with a well aimed chop to the throat. The creature slumped over and didn't move again. The girl stood, adjusting her stylish denim jacket. She raised a hand that was now covered in a sticky substance that was neon green in colour. “Gross,” she muttered.

“Wha – what was that?” asked Bill, who was now scrambling to his feet alongside his date.

The girl surveyed the dead creature with a shrug. “Some kind of demon, I'm guessing.”

“Some – some kind?” repeated Corey, her eyes wide.

“The kind that bleeds neon green,” said the girl with a quick nod of her head. “I don't know. But it's gone.” She began to walk away.

“Hey, wait,” said Bill quickly, stepping forward. “Ali, I just wanted to say -”

“Don't mention it,” said Ali in a casual tone. She continued to walk away from town hall, the bar, and the shaken couple, a small smirk on her face.

As she walked through the darkness, winding along the empty streets of Jericho, she wondered to herself about the demon – what it was and why it had been there. She wondered too what other kinds of things she might expect to run into on her walk that night. Then a nagging feeling took over as she wondered to herself whether or not the bright green blood would come out of her jacket. She would ask her mom for laundry advice.

These kinds of questions weren't things she'd wondered about in her previous life. It had only been very recently that she'd learned to ask them at all. Before her life in Jericho, she'd been a normal girl, living out a mostly normal life in Baltimore.

Even when she'd first moved to Jericho just before the bombings of twenty-three cities and the destruction of her hometown, things had been pretty normal. Well, as normal as they could be, in all that.

She'd been a normal girl from a kind of weird, but kind of normal family. She got annoyed when her parents treated her like a kid, she liked getting out of the house and exploring things, and she was excited when she got invited to a party at Skylar Stevens's house.

Skylar was like teen royalty at her new school, she heard, and because school hadn't actually been in session at all since she'd moved, Ali was excited to finally meet some people her own age. The night of Skylar's party, she wore her newest jeans and made her escape, telling her mom she was just going for a walk around the neighbourhood. Skylar was a kind of a snob, but her party had cool music and Ali had fun, eating processed snacks and talking to a cute boy named Mark by the punch bowl.

It was a drag, but a totally normal drag, when a couple of cops showed up to bust up the party. It was more embarrassing that Ali's father was among them, and ordered her to go home, but thankfully, no one else seemed to notice their conversation and Ali made her exit quickly, hoping to avoid any further glances. Her dad was a hard-ass but thankfully he didn't do anything really embarrassing like insist on escorting her home himself.

As she walked along the streets towards her new neighbourhood, she wondered if maybe her dad remembered his days as a teenager and somehow recalled the extreme agony a parental lecture in public could provoke. She kicked a stray soda can as she walked and thought to herself that it probably wasn't that. More likely he didn't want her to reveal how they knew each other, or make anyone look at either of them too much. He liked to be secretive. Her dad was weird that way. Even at home, he was big on keeping secrets, like his reason for moving there, or that locked room in the attic. Sometimes it seemed really unfair of him, treating his family members like everyone else he kept in the dark out there, but there was no way that self reflection on how unreasonable he had been was the reason he had let her walk home alone. There had to be a reason he didn't want people to notice them fighting.

She was pulled out of her thoughts suddenly by a movement she saw out of the corner of her eye. She spun around. She was halfway up Murray street and she couldn't see anyone else around. But she was getting a really weird feeling, and she spun around again.

He'd made no sound at all and she couldn't explain how he'd snuck up on her so quickly, but there, a few feet away from her, stood a man with a strange look on his face. He was grinning, licking his lips, and his eyes had almost a...she would call it a hungry look, she realized as she felt a shiver go up her spine. He lurched towards her and her senses went into overdrive. Nothing else had to happen – she knew what to do. She took off running.

As she heard her pursuer's footsteps pounding behind her, Ali ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. Faster than anyone could usually run, she thought, as the buildings blurred by. If she weren't so afraid for her life, she might've been excited at this strange new development. She pushed herself faster and faster, but as she raced off of the pavement and onto the grass at the end of the street, she felt a hand grabbing onto her from behind. She tumbled to the ground, twisting and turning but willing herself to jump to her feet again, all the while struggling against her attacker.

He seemed especially, perhaps superhumanly, strong as he tried to wrestle her to the ground again, and she used every ounce of strength she had to keep up. Some of her karate from those Saturday mornings she'd spent as a kid came back to her, and though she was sure her sensei would've frowned at her sloppy form, she felt a small jolt of hope each time a kick or punch connected with her enemy. He fought and then he seemed, if it were possible, to grow tireder, more desperate, but she was fighting for her life and each moment was more desperate than the last. His fanged teeth gleamed in the moonlight and made no sense, in the small part of her mind that was observing rather than fighting.

She could feel her lip bleeding and her muscles beginning to protest, but she pushed herself further. She had to keep fighting. Keep pushing his teeth away, breaking his grip, keeping herself out of his grasp. How was she supposed to end this? He slammed her to the ground and she looked up, briefly wondering if it was about to end.

“Ali!” She was shocked to hear a voice. Her father's voice. She glanced to the side. His familiar silhouette had appeared somewhere nearby. For a split second she assumed he would dash towards her and save the day, and she was surprised when instead of running, he threw an object towards her.

Scrambling sideways, she reached out and caught the wooden stake. She glanced at it for a second, and then looked up at the attacker hurtling towards her. She raised the stake and slammed it into his chest.

She heard herself gasping as the snarling man turned into ashes around her. She jumped to her feet, brushing it off, and then remembered to look over at her father. He stared at her in silence for a moment. She started to say something indignant but he spoke. “Guess you have some questions.”

She could only nod, heaving a big sigh as her father held out his arm and she went to walk alongside him. It took the rest of the walk home for her dad to explain the family legacy she had now inherited.

“So it was your job, you had this job, killing vampires? And other things?” she asked, clarifying what she'd already been told as she sat down at the picnic table in their backyard. “All this time? But you never told us. Even though you knew we might have to do it too?”

He shifted his weight. “I didn't know if you or Sam were going to get it too. Didn't want to burden you if I didn't have to.”

She nodded slowly. “How do you know? I mean, that it's me? Maybe it's an accident. Maybe I'm normal after all.”

He smiled, though his eyes were serious. “You fought a full-on hungry vampire. Killed him on your first try. I know it's not an accident. It's your gift.”

She folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “But what if I don't want it? What if I can't? I don't even know -”

He moved to sit beside her. For the first time that night, his face lost that hard, calculating look. “You will. After some training, some practice, you will know. And, I bet you'll be great.”

She stared at him, trying to keep the hardness in her own face, but suddenly she felt her lip trembling. “Dad, I...” Her voice shook and it surprised her. It surprised her too when her father put an arm across her shoulders, gently patting her arm.

“I'll be here. I'll be helping you.” He kissed her on the forehead. She took a resigned breath.

Her father kept his word and started training her the next day. She relearned all the combat techniques she'd once practiced as a kid, and a few new ones. It was weird, doing these strange activities with the mysterious father who'd been away for so long. Another strange new addition was the weapons, which were kept in that mysterious room in the attic. There were different kinds for different kinds of enemies, and she learned how to use them and how to spot them.

“Crossbow,” he would say, holding it out to her.

“Vampire,” she answered.

“Rifle,” he said, adding “Loaded with -”

“- rock salt,” she nodded. “Ghosts and other things that are non...non-”

“Corporeal,” he said, with a grim smile. “Axe.”

She raised her eyebrows and lifted the heavy object. “Everything.” He raised his eyebrows. “Uh, everything corporeal?”

He smiled, and he seemed actually happy this time.

He took her hunting at night. She used her new skills to take out other strange creatures. It was surprising how many there were. “Why are they all here?” she asked one night as they walked through a field, patrolling the town for evil creatures.

“I think they're attracted here,” he answered.

“What's so great about this town?” She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn't everything taste like corn?”

“Maybe it wasn't always so popular,” he said. “After the bombs, a lot of places changed so much, they're unrecognizable. My guess is, some places changed in a different way.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I think the energy of this place changed. Something shifted, and it's become a gateway. There's some kind of dimensional portal operating here, allowing evil creatures in and attracting others. I haven't pinpointed where this portal originates yet, but-”

“But it's our job to stop them?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” she said. They walked along in silence for a few minutes. “I'm glad we're doing this, Dad,” she said quietly. “It's hard, but I'm glad you're here to help.”

He stared straight ahead, with a look she recognized. Her smile disappeared and she let some of the steel back into her voice. “Are you going to be here? For good?” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

She wondered if he almost looked sad. He'd always been excellent at hiding his real, softer edges under the steel ones, but maybe he was getting softer all around in his old age. “Long as I can be,” he said finally.

She stared ahead, her hands in her pockets and her face still for an eternity before she answered, “Okay.”

The girl with the strange new birthright settled into a routine after a while. The work she did at night got to be not so bad. It was better than the days, at least. Daytime was so boring in a town without power and communications, and she would never admit it, but she missed school. Without it, she had nowhere to get away from her mother's silent questions, no way to escape the chores, babysitting, and frequent family game nights she had to endure with their new friends, the Taylors. She had no one, really, to talk to, for the first time in her life. She was used to the secret codes and weird looks that replaced talking a lot of the time in her own house, but she'd never been forced to rely on just that. She'd never had trouble making friends in Baltimore.

At least her new calling gave her a place to blow off steam. Everything she couldn't say during the day, she could shout at retreating vampires, or put into deadly blows aimed at demons and monsters. Sometimes, it gave her a chance to interact with the people in town too, in different ways than they did at town meetings or in line for food rations.

Once, she followed Jake, the mayor's prodigal son, and a strange brunette he'd been flirting with into an alleyway. She'd looked away the best she could during the embarrassing small talk, waiting for the vamp to make her move. When Ali saw fangs, she swooped in. After a quick tussle, she staked the demon date. The mayor's son had been thrown to the ground, and he stared up at her, first in awe, and then in confusion. Without a word, she'd turned, whistling as she walked home. She'd remember that look, every time he would give a speech to rally the troops or convince them to cut their rations or something, from then on.

One night, she found herself out at one of the farms, battling forces even she hadn't expected to encounter there. As she jumped and delivered a swift mid-air kick right at the feelers of the advancing cockroach, she heard Stanley, the farmer, shouting behind her, “There's more of them, coming this way! It must've laid eggs!”

She groaned, brushing herself off and going in for another round with the insect, which was roughly the size of a pickup truck. She was pretty sure she'd twisted something in the driveway earlier when she'd fought off a horrible clown that had reminded her so much of the worst parade her dad had ever taken her to back in Baltimore. This overgrown bug was shrieking but still fighting and she didn't look forward to facing the others she could hear scurrying across the cornfield.

Behind her, she could hear Mimi, Stanley's girlfriend, screaming still. She didn't need to turn around to know that she was still clinging to the porch railing.

“We have to burn it!” Stanley shouted. Ali glanced quickly to the side. The farmer was racing back and forth on the porch, his arms going wild, the look on his face crazed. “The barn. There's some gas still in there. I'll be back!”

“No, wait,” Ali tried to protest, as the insect sent her flying backwards again. She couldn't quite explain why, but she felt there was something else they had to do. She didn't have to chase after the farmer, though, because he was back in a moment, walking backwards. “They're dead,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Who?” squealed his girlfriend, not taking her eyes off the giant cockroach.

“E-everyone,” stuttered Stanley. “I couldn't do anything. It's my fault, and they're coming to get back at me!”

Ali had been about to charge the insect, but she turned to look at the farmer. “Wait, what?”

“Everyone,” he repeated, his voice trembling. “Just like I was -”

“Just like you were afraid of!” shouted Ali. “That's it!” She grinned. Mimi shrieked. Stanley started to shout back in the direction of the barn, “I did my best! Please, you have to understand!”

“You guys!” shouted Ali, backing up rather than kicking the creature again. “You have to face them. Face what you're afraid of.”

“What?” shrieked Mimi, clinging to the post even tighter. “Are you crazy?”

“Bonnie!” shouted Stanley. “I can't see her anywhere. Bonnie!”

Ali sighed, and swung a punch at the cockroach before it could get closer. “Try to face your fears. I think it's some kind of nightmare spawner, or fear monster or something trying to get to you with what scares you. Just stop and take a look at them. Think about how silly it is.” She motioned up at the giant cockroach.

“What's that supposed to do? It's still making dents in the lawn!” shouted Mimi.

“I don't know, but I have this feeling it'll do something,” explained Ali. She looked over at Stanley, who was still alternating between shouting apologies at the dead and shouting for his sister. “I'll find her, you deal with your demons. What's her name, Bonnie?” She looked around again, and shouted “Bonnie!”

Stanley gestured wildly. “No, no, she's deaf. She can't hear you. If we can't see her, we'll never find her.”

Ali swung around one of the porch posts, landing both her feet into the creature's side. “That sounds like...” she dusted herself off and backed up, suddenly looking around carefully. A movement had caught her eye. A big metal bucket that had been sitting on the porch lifted off the ground, seemingly moving of its own accord. As Ali watched, it danced its way over to the cockroach, hovered near it for a moment, and then bounced off of its back with a loud metal ring. Ali stared at the spot where the bucket had hovered, and waved her arms before saying slowly and carefully, “I can see you.”

A teenage girl suddenly materialized on the spot where there had seemingly been only air. She looked surprised at first, but quickly sent Ali a smile. She ran onto the porch and stood by her brother's side, signing something rapidly to him and glancing off in the same direction he was looking.

With new determination, Ali aimed a quick punch at the insect and then ran up onto the porch, crouching beside the cowering woman. “Mimi,” she whispered. “What do you normally do when you see a cockroach?”

Staring down at the ground, Mimi whispered “Usually, scream and jump.”

It was coming closer, but Ali gripped Mimi's shoulder. “But what could you do? If it was a regular cockroach and it was bothering you?”

“S-step on it, I guess,” said Mimi.

Ali nodded. Now for the hard part. “Imagine stepping on it.” Mimi started to protest. “I know it's huge,” said Ali. “But just picture stepping on it. You can do it. Stand up.”

It took more frantic prodding, and Stanley and Bonnie coming to stand beside her, and the pinchers of the insect were a few feet away when Mimi finally stood, held her head high, and glared at the insect.

The insect swirled around with a jerky motion a few times, taking the shape again of a zombie, back to a cockroach, and one screaming clown, before it sunk down into the ground and suddenly a row of strange little orange creatures was running through the grass.

Ali shrugged and ran after them. Confused enough to not be hiding behind the big things that scared their victims, they would be easy enough to take out. When she came back from the corn field a few moments later, wiping off her hands, the farm's inhabitants were gathered on their porch. Bonnie stepped forward and smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

Ali nodded. “Nice hit with the bucket.”

Bonnie nodded and said “Thanks.”

Ali smiled as she walked away. She wasn't sure how, but she felt she'd made a connection with Bonnie Richmond. The fear of becoming invisible, being not seen by those closest to you, was scary indeed. Almost as much as horrible clowns. She wondered to herself if she had, perhaps, made one of her first friends. Bonnie, after all, now knew what she was capable of, so it was nice to think she wouldn't have to hide her secret evil-fighting identity. She resolved that she would try to reach out to this potential friend, sooner or later.

Her plans to start socializing more were derailed later that night. That night, things really hit a new level of weird. Ali was walking home with a light bounce in her step when she noticed a strange figure in the yard, staring up at the sky through a telescope. Ducking down, she crawled through the bushes to get a better look. It was the strangest sight. The creature wore human clothing and had a human-like figure, but even in the dim lighting she could tell there was something very different about it. Its skin wasn't solid like a regular human's, but strangely translucent, and instead of veins and tissues, it seemed like flames of fire bloomed under the creature's skin. It turned and she saw its face was sharp and defined and its eyes glowed. She rose up slowly, facing it head on. It seemed to notice her, as it shifted its weight and put one hand on its hip. Then it spoke. “Hi, baby girl.”

Ali later thought that she must have jumped ten feet. She backed up, stumbling over her words and the hedges. “What? What did you say?”

“Oh,” said the figure, looking down and back at her. “You can see, can't you? It's a bit of a shock the first time.”

“What?” she sputtered again. “Dad? Is that really...you?”

“Afraid so,” he said. He held out his arms. “Do you want to come inside? I figure you'll have more questions.”

“Yeah,” she said, hearing her voice shake for the first time in weeks. “What – what happened?” She had almost said “What are you?” but her father's voice, posture, and even that maroon shirt, were so familiar she knew she shouldn't ask so rudely.

“I don't really know,” he said. “It's how I've always been, I think, though of course I didn't know it myself until I was around your age. Everyone else can't see, and I don't notice myself much most of the time.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “How?” How could he miss his veins of fire and the eerie glowing eyes when he was looking in the mirror every morning?

“I only look like this once in a while. I'm not sure why, but it happens when something in the air changes. Kind of like how some animals know when a storm's on its way.”

“And people don't notice? How?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“They can't see,” he said, in that calm voice he used when he wanted other people to calm down. She wasn't going to, though. She backed up half a foot. “I look the same as usual to them, far as I can tell.”

“You sure? No one's ever seen?” she asked.

“Well, your mother's seen once or twice,” he said. “Once in a while she sees it in my reflection.” He sighed, folding his arms in front of her. “It was a bit of a shock the first time, but she's always been able to see me for who I really am. She loves me, and she loves you, so you don't have to worry about -”

“Wait,” she said. She couldn't keep the panic out of her voice now. “It's going to happen to me too, isn't it?” She was having a hard time breathing. “This is what will happen to me, right?”

He looked at her a long moment before he answered. “Yes. It's part of who we are. It's why we're able to do what we do. The strength, the skills, the senses, and this, are all part of – ”

“Part of who we are,” she mumbled. She stared down. Her t-shirt, jacket, and jeans looked the same. Her feet and her arms were familiar. She willed herself not to imagine them changing but she couldn't. She looked back at him. “So what are we?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I've never been given a name for it.”

She crossed her arms, looking down at her feet again. “I can think of one,” she whispered. She raised her voice then, asking “So are we good or bad?”

“No such thing,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “What are we then?”

“We're not defined by words,” he said, speaking in a louder, more definite tone than before. He must have really wanted it to sink in. “It's what we do that matters. And you and I, we have a power to do things no one else can. We can change things. It's a burden, and I am sorry that you have been given this burden, but you also have power. That power might be what gets you through this. It could help your mother, your brother, and a lot of innocent people.”

“People...that will never know,” she said.

He nodded, smiling. Hoping, she knew, that she was starting to come around.

“I need to think,” she said.

He nodded again, less smiley. She turned away and started walking again, still feeling those glowing eyes watching her.

She walked back along their street, by the houses full of sleeping people who would never know what she really was. She could never show anyone who she really was. A monster.

She could save them. She wouldn't get to know them. Her new hopes for reaching out to the other young people in town, hoping that her defeat of the nightmare monster at the farm had given them some kind of common ground, seemed like the plot of some long forgotten movie she had slept partway through.

She was surprised, a short time later, when it was Bonnie who reached out to her, asking her to come help with another scary situation. Ali stared at herself reflected in shop windows as they walked, double checking that her skin wasn't taking on a fiery tint. She tried to keep things business-like as they arrived at the intersection at the edge of town where the old truck was parked.

“So you've already figured out how this happened?” Ali asked, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the scene.

Dale Turner was standing in a tense position, a grim look on his face, but his ears were turning pink. “I – I just made a few wishes.”

“With this,” added Bonnie, helpfully holding up a big, weathered old book. “He said he got it at a trading post somewhere.” The girls looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“I just...thought I could make things better,” he said, sheepishly at first but then putting on a hard expression.

“So this -” Ali began, gesturing at the young woman before them who stood still, frozen like a statue.

Dale looked away. “I wished her parents were back. And they came back, only – they were wrong. They weren't...alive.” He glanced towards the nearby field, where two figures lay crumpled on the ground. “I...” his voice shook, but again he tried to make it hard. “I couldn't stand for her to see them like that. She shouldn't have to. She's already had to go through so much.”

“So you made another wish?” asked Ali. Bonnie waved a hand in front of the statue-girl's face. Her glass-like eyes didn't move.

“She doesn't feel anything now,” said Dale, his last words giving way to a sob.

Ali sighed. She was irritated that he'd meddled in such obviously dangerous things, but she couldn't help but think of the times she'd wished she knew what happened to Cindy, her best friend, or the times she hoped Sam would accept their hundredth reading of that Scooby Do book rather than continue asking questions about their missing loved ones.

“Have you found a way to reverse it?” she asked.

“It needs more than one person,” he said, pointing to a page in the book.

The three of them joined hands and chanted, and soon the girl in front of them gasped for air, her eyes wide and teary. She looked at Dale, and spun around, walking in the opposite direction of the bodies.

“Skylar!” he called after her.

She ignored him, but after a few steps, sunk down in the grass, sobbing. Glancing at Ali, Bonnie took off after Skylar, crouching beside her and carefully touching her shoulder.

Ali turned to Dale. “Come on. We're going to bury them.” She motioned towards the bodies. The parents. With a small sigh, he nodded, and they began to walk over.

Later, the four teenagers stood staring down at the mound of earth. Ali felt a strange sense of separateness, even though she stood so close to them, as the other three shed tears over the parents. They thanked her, and she began walking home.

She was supposed to continue patrolling the town for other signs of evil, but she felt a need to stop into the house and check on her own parents. It was because of this that she noticed the strange figure slipping in her back door just as she was crossing the lawn. She couldn't make out who it was and his back was turned, but she caught sight of a veiny, thorny looking hand. A hand that didn't look human. It wasn't familiar, and she knew it wasn't her father.

She raced inside, shouting for her family members as she crossed the hall, hoping she could prevent the worst. “Mom!” she shouted as she came into the kitchen.

Three faces looked up at her. Her father, her mother, and a stranger whose scaly face matched the hand she'd seen. On the table in front of them were maps and blueprints. She stared at the mug of tea in her mother's hands, the relaxed way the stranger leaned back in his chair, and then at the pointed look her father was giving her. “Ali, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” he began.

A wave of worry was gripping her, though she wasn't certain why. “Friend? So what, is there like a club you can join or something?”

The adults glanced back and forth quickly. Ali's mother looked guiltily at the table when Ali stared questioningly at her. She looked back at her father, who stood up. “Outside?” he asked.

Ali stalked out to the back porch and waited for her father, not turning around as she heard him come out the door.

“Ali, some demons aren't our enemies,” he began, in that calm, reasonable tone he always tried to use.

“Yeah? How long have you been buddies with that one?” she asked. “Did you meet at Monsters Anonymous or was there a karaoke night?”

“We go back awhile,” he said carefully. “When I was first -”

“You're going, aren't you?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have something more important to do. Somewhere else you have to go now.” She recognized the signs. She had never known her father fought evil creatures or that he sometimes looked more like an ogre than a prince. But she could tell when one of his 'commitments' to one of his old friends was about to change everything.

He came up beside her, reaching for her arm but then dropping his arm to his side. “There is no place more important to me than where you, your mother, and brother are. You are the most important -”

“That's not going to stop you from leaving, is it?” she asked, finally turning to look at him.

He shook his head slowly. “No.” He looked at her and she could feel, this time, that he was sorry. “There's – there's something I have to do. Something I have to help him with.”

“Fine,” she said. They stared at each other, unsmiling, and she gave her father a stiff hug. “I'll take care of things.”

She started to walk away, stepping off the porch.

“Ali.” Her father's voice stopped her. “Do you want to come in? I don't have much time, and your mother would probably -” She didn't interrupt, but he couldn't seem to finish.

She shrugged. “I have to keep patrolling,” she said. “Dangerous things in town after dark.”

He stared at her for a few moments, but then gave a single, definite nod. “Okay. Good.”

She turned and kept walking, along deserted streets, through neighbourhoods. She came to a familiar spot, a field at the edge of town, and stopped, eyeing the grass, the lone tree, and the almost full moon in the sky. She aimed a kick at a fence post. It hit the ground and left a dent. She let out a sigh.

She kept silent about her father's absence. During the day she kept herself busy as ever, helping with the chores, going to school for the first time, and making sure no one else cried too much either.

Sam wanted to talk. Sometimes she let him, and sat quietly lost in thought as he yammered on. Sometimes she directed him to his crayons. She was glad he seemed to be making friends with some of the other kids. Having playmates would occupy him and keep him from getting lost. One night, she walked along the darkening street while listening to the Taylors' youngest child, Sally, chattering away about bunnies while Sam and Woody, Sally's brother, walked ahead of them, playfully fighting over a soccer ball. “Boys, behave!” shouted Ali, only half paying attention as Sally continued, “And I think if I had one that was black and white with floppy ears, I would call that one Lucy after Lucy from Charlie Brown.”

Ali sighed and nodded along. The babysitting gig was a drag but at least it got her away from the Taylors' house where her mother and Margaret would chat, play cards, and inevitably get into some weird, coded on one side dialogue about her dad's absence. “Yeah, yeah, that's really...” she looked down at Sally, who was smiling up at her. Just then, a movement ahead caught her eye. The boys' soccer ball bounced to the ground as both of them stood, frozen. A vampire had jumped out of nowhere and was advancing on them.

“Wait here a sec,” she said to Sally, before turning and running towards the vampire that was grabbing Sam's arm. She pushed the vampire to the ground so hard that both of them rolled. The vamp was a good fighter, but so was she, and they took turns knocking each other to the ground. She was so focused on the fight that she was only vaguely aware of the children's voices, cheering her on. And then she heard a high, piercing scream. She glanced up.

Another vampire had come out of nowhere and was only a few feet away from Sally. The little girl had listened to Ali and stayed far back from the fight. Now she started running, but only got a few steps before tripping.

Ali quickly pulled out a stake and destroyed the vampire she'd been fighting, and, swearing out loud, began sprinting towards Sally and the other one.

Sally was on the ground, instinctively covering her face with her arms, and the vamp (dressed in a horribly ugly orange jacket) hadn't reached her yet, but was swooping in. Ali pushed herself harder, desperately trying to run faster. She was almost there, but the vamp was inches from the kid.

Suddenly, taking them all by surprise, a large, snarling blur of fur and fangs leapt out from behind Sally, knocking the attacker to the ground. Ali slowed her running slightly to take in the situation as she neared it. The animal that now pinned the vampire to the ground with its massive paws appeared to be a wolf, its grey coat and sharp incisors gleaming in the moonlight. It growled and snarled and lashed at the vampire, soon biting its throat. Ali had carefully stepped around the fighting pair, picking Sally up off the ground and keeping an arm around her shoulders. She was still tense, ready to defend the kids from the wolf if the vampire was just an appetizer.

As the vampire turned to ashes though, and the wolf stepped away from its prey, its snarling features softened. Its big brown eyes stared at them. Beside her, Ali could hear a small gasp of surprise. Sally was staring back at the wolf, smiling almost as though she knew it. The wolf looked from her, over to the boys who were standing quietly now, before taking off into the night.

The kids talked excitedly the whole way home about their encounter. Ali couldn't remember Sam ever staring at her with so much admiration, and he kept repeating “That was so cool! I didn't know you could do that!” When they arrived at the Taylors' house, the mothers were both there to greet them. Neither seemed too surprised, and though they expressed relief that everyone was okay, Ali had a strange feeling when she realized she herself wasn't that surprised. Her own mother sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around a protesting Sam, but after seeing Woody and Sally had hung up their jackets, Margaret was offering to make tea. Ali offered to help and followed her into the kitchen.

“So, that was some fight, huh?” asked Margaret, passing a mug to Ali. She raised an eyebrow, and there was a twinkle in her brown eyes.

Ali had gotten too familiar with the creatures of the night not to know one staring her in the face. “It was you, wasn't it?”

Margaret nodded.

“You can control it?” asked Ali.

“Well, it's been a long time now,” said Margaret with a smile. “Almost fifteen years. Long before the kids were born.”

“Do they know?” asked Ali, fiddling with the edge of a tea towel.

“We don't talk about it with them, but I think they do, on some level.”

Ali nodded. “And Jimmy? I guess he'd have to know.” She glanced at Margaret, who nodded. “But isn't it kind of...”

“Jimmy's always been there for me,” said Margaret. “He's a good guy, and he can always see the good in other people, even in their darkest moments.”

Ali nodded, processing this information. She looked over at the were-wolf woman, wondering how to ask. “I don't have to...you're only like that when your kids...I don't have to worry, do I?” She sent her an apologetic but businesslike look.

Margaret smiled, but shook her head. “It's okay. And no, I've lived here very peacefully for a long time.” She gave Ali an appraising look. “There are lots of us with secrets, but some of us use them to protect people.”

Ali gave her a hint of a smile, though she was sure it didn't reach her eyes. It was hard to stop worrying about the massive secrets piling up in her life.

Margaret slid a mug of tea in front of her. “If you ever need any help, just ask,” she said, taking a sip of her own tea and sitting down.

Ali peered thoughtfully into her tea. She hadn't expected her first offer of help from someone who really understood what she was up against each night to be from one of her mother's friends. But it was nice to have someone understand. At least part of it. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Margaret nodded, and her smile turned into a serious look. “You know something's coming, right? Something big?”

Ali stayed silent. She could only bring herself to nod slightly, because she felt all of a sudden that she knew this was true, had known for a long time, but was also just realizing it.

“I don't know what, but I can feel it,” continued Margaret. “I think any of us with...special senses probably can.”

“I think you're right,” said Ali. They shared a worried look for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?”

Margaret looked thoughtful. “I think the best thing we can do is stick together. You can come to me, if you need backup, but I think we should also look to our friends. They might be able to help.”

Other friends. Ali nodded slowly. In Baltimore, if she'd had a big problem, there were a bunch of people she knew she could drop in on. She looked back at Margaret, whose soft but fierce smile now seemed obviously and completely reminiscent of the wolf. She returned her smile.

Over the next few weeks, Ali continued with her work and continued visiting Margaret Taylor, having chats over tea and sometimes talking about strategies. She also began taking Margaret's advice, and trying to reach out to the friends she was beginning to make. For the first time, she was beginning to find her life in Jericho fun, when she spent evenings hanging out with Bonnie and her boyfriend Sean, and Dale and the reanimated and mostly coping Skylar. Sometimes they even tagged along as she “solved problems,” as she called it, and sometimes they even helped. She was careful, all the time, not to let them catch on to too much of her secret, and grateful that they didn't ask a lot of questions as they were faced with the strange events that kept happening after dark.

“Wow, that's a really big troll!” said Sean one night as they all stared at the creature Ali had most recently taken down, after its rampage through the medical centre, an attack that left no one dead but several ceilings damaged and one doctor cowering in a supply closet.

Ali nodded with grim satisfaction. “You know, something even bigger's coming.”

The others looked at her. She shared the theory she and her father had discussed, about shifts in the earth and an inter-dimensional portal opening up in town. They accepted the news pretty well. It made sense, considering the things they'd seen.

“But what's going to happen?” asked Skylar, glancing over as Bonnie coaxed Dr. Dhuwalia to drink some tea. “Is it something you can fight? Or we can fight?”

“I don't know,” said Ali. “I'll have to figure it out.”

“We can try to ask around,” said Dale, who'd gotten an unfortunate amount of troll drool on his sleeve. “Find out if anyone else in the area knows.”

“I don't know if this is the kind of information that's getting traded out there,” said Ali with a chuckle, but when she saw their serious faces looking back at her, she shrugged. “It's worth trying I guess.”

It seemed word didn't travel as quickly among the concerned citizens of the area as it did the shady and the slimy. Several weeks later, the teens still didn't have any answers.

“Other than, 'something big is coming,'” said Dale. “That's all I could get out of that fortune-telling guy.”

“Shh,” said Sean. “It's supposed to be a stakeout.”

“There she is!” whispered Skylar. Under the cover of darkness, Heather Lisinski was exiting town hall. As she walked around the corner, heading to the back parking lot, the teens followed. As their footsteps started to sound, echoing through the alley between town hall and Bailey's, the teacher-turned-administrator turned around. Dale and Bonnie sped up and got ahead of her, where they stopped and planted their feet. She turned around again and Skylar and Sean were standing behind her. Ali stepped between them and walked right up to Heather.

“Guys,” asked Heather, with a bit of a laugh like she was trying to keep things casual, though she glanced nervously between them. “What is this? Some kind of ambush?”

“We're trying to prevent one,” said Ali. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

Heather folded her arms and shifted her weight from foot to foot, as if she was trying to make herself appear to take up more space. “I'm fine here.”

“Sure?” asked Ali, glancing around at their less than cheery surroundings. “We could go somewhere with lights, or couches. We really just want to help.”

“You're trying to help me?” asked Heather, raising her eyebrows. “Look, I don't know what you've heard, but I'm doing just fine.”

“We need to talk to you about something,” said Ali. “And we're going to help. But we can't let you leave.”

Heather dropped her arms, but the look she was fixing on them now was far less indulgent. She set her jaw, but didn't say anything.

“That is what you're doing, isn't it?” asked Ali, raising her own eyebrows and stepping closer. “Leaving? Right from work, right at the end of the day, so no one will notice til it's too late?” Heather looked as though she was searching for something to say. “Please, just hear us out,” said Ali, keeping eye contact.

“Fine,” said Heather after an eternity. “We can go to their store.” She motioned over at Dale and Skylar.

“You can't leave town with him,” said Ali, a few minutes later, as they sat or stood in various places around the small back room of Dale and Skylar's store. She was perched on the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over another. Heather had taken a seat in one of the two office chairs, her hands folded in her lap. “He isn't who you think he is,” Ali continued.

Heather looked confused and surprised, but she said firmly, “He's a good man.”

“Only problem with that argument,” began Skylar. “Is he isn't a man at all, is he?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Heather.

“Maybe he hasn't shown you his true face,” said Ali, shooting Skylar somewhat of a cautioning look, and shuddering in her mind at the thought of her own secret face. “But I promise you, he's dangerous.”

“He wouldn't do anything to hurt me,” said Heather, shaking her head. “I don't know why I have to justify myself to...you guys don't have to worry about it.”

“I do,” said Ali. “It's sort of my job.”

“And we all care, Miss Lisinski,” cut in Sean, who was leaning against the door.

“Well, that's very nice of you,” began Heather, with a resigned but patient look on her face. “But -”

“But he's a demon!” cut in Skylar. The others all glanced at her. “We don't have time to tiptoe around it!” she protested.

“You kids have been through a lot,” said Heather. “And so have I. I know all about the dangerous guys we have around here. I've been through my fair share of ups and downs. I think I can decide these things for myself.”

“Look, I'm sorry things have been so bad,” began Ali, standing up. “But I have to tell you what we know. He isn't going to take you to Missouri. He lives in a hell dimension and he came here looking for his queen.”

The look on Heather's face clearly demonstrated that this was still too much to swallow. “Not that it's any of your business,” she said, standing up herself. “But we're in love.”

“You probably are,” said Ali. “But do you know what it's like to be queen of the fire-eating demons? They're all waiting for you to show up and teach them how to take care of themselves. Sort of a Wendy among the Lost Boys type situation.”

Heather smirked. “Seriously? I'm not exactly the 'joy of housekeeping' type.”

Ali shrugged. “They need someone to teach them how to fix their motorcycles.” She sighed. “Can you please just try one thing, and if we're wrong, we'll leave you alone?”

Heather glanced warily between the teens, before giving a reluctant nod. “What is it?”

“How do you think he knew to come here?” asked Dale in Ali's ear later, as they sat in the cover of darkness, watching with binoculars again.

“I don't know, maybe the energy of everything else going on attracted him,” she suggested.

“Maybe he heard Jericho was a good place to look for a queen. All the hot chicks,” said Sean from the back. Ali didn't need to turn around to know Bonnie was swatting his arm.

“There. He's there,” whispered Skylar.

All five teens watched as the suave, sophisticated looking dark and handsome stranger walked up to Heather, who was waiting by her car. Ali found herself reaching, resting her hand on the door handle, just waiting. The pair conversed for a few moments, and the teacher's body language was nervous but not entirely suspicious.

“Oh, just do it already,” complained Sean. “Shut up,” warned Dale.

With a furtive glance around, Heather finally threw the vial of liquid she had been concealing right at her paramour. He stepped back in surprise, and with a flash of light, he transformed from a well groomed man into a taller, hairier figure with horns sticking out of his head and orange, glistening skin.

“Now!” shouted Skylar at the others, for Ali had already flung open her door and began running towards the pair.

Heather jumped backwards, letting out a small scream. The demon roared in anger at being unmasked, and took a deep breath. Ali dove and knocked Heather out of the way as the place where she had been standing received a dosing of flame. She began to fight the demon as her friends arrived. Sean pulled Heather to her feet and away from the fight as Dale and Bonnie circled the fighting pair with crossbows. The demon fought well and his fire-breathing managed to make the friends scatter a few times. At one point, Ali's sleeve caught fire and she yelped. Skylar aimed her fire extinguisher and the flames that had burned her arm were gone. Ali was really angry now, and she ran at the demon, catching his arms and pulling them behind his back. “Now!” she screamed, holding him in place as he tried to jerk away. “Shoot him now!”

Bonnie and Dale shot at the same time and two arrows pierced the demon in the chest. He let out a roar and burst into flames.

Heather, who was leaning against her car, stared wide-eyed at the teenagers as they brushed off their hands and straightened their clothes. “I...” she stammered. Her eyes were nearly teary now. “I thought he loved me.”

“He probably did, in his own twisted way,” said Ali. Her face softened. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“No, I should be thanking you,” said Heather, nodding around to all of them. “That was his real face, and if you hadn't warned me...”

“Hey, if you hadn't unmasked him,” said Ali. “That took guts.”

Heather smiled, but sighed. “It's just so embarrassing. Dating around here really sucks.”

Ali nodded with a grim smile. “I wouldn't know.”

Heather started to get into her car. “Hey, um, one question,” said Ali. “Did he, you know, when you were having those moonlit walks and sharing bowls of noodles...did he say anything about how he decided to come here?”

Heather frowned, thinking. “He said a friend had told him about this place. Someone in town. I don't know who. Well, it's been an adventure. Stay safe guys!”

They nodded and waved as she started the car.

“Huh,” said Dale as Heather drove away from the circle of teens. “So, it's not so much a 'what's bringing them to town?'”

Skylar added, “It's a who?”

Ali shrugged. “We'll see.”

The sightings and encounters with strange things continued, and seemed to be happening closer together. In between, she and her new sometimes-colleagues looked for leads, but it was difficult to uncover useful information. There were so many strange but perfectly human adults in town, hiding secrets but not summoning forces of evil. And then of course, so many of them kept getting into predicaments themselves and needing rescuing.

They were still talking amongst themselves, but not making much progress, the day she found herself in a stand-off in a small garage on the outskirts of town.

“Mr. Green – Eric!” she shouted. “We are going to work this out. But you have to let the mayor go!”

“I ain't letting him go!” shouted the bearded man. He had the mayor in a tight grip and was holding a gun against his temple. Gray Anderson had his eyes squeezed shut, and was whispering something under his breath. “He's the one who took my Lilah!”

“I don't know what he's talking about,” muttered Gray. “You're crazy!” he shouted up at the gun-wielding Green.

“You do know! You know where she is,” shouted Eric. He waved his gun at the room in general. “Delilah and I were going to get away together, but he took her before she could meet me. He's gonna pay!”

Ali sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “Okay, look buddy, you're not...who did you say you are?” She sent a glance back at Dale and Skylar, who were leafing rapidly through one of their books.

“Jeb,” said Eric, tightening his grip on the mayor, who winced.

“Well, you're the deputy mayor and this man is Gray Anderson, your boss, so you really shouldn't be threatening violence towards him,” said Ali in an even tone.

“He ain't who he says he is!” shouted Eric. “Something about him ain't right!”

“Okay, another issue, but your name is Eric Green, you are not Jeb,” continued Ali.

“Well, maybe he is,” came Skylar's voice from behind them. Ali looked back. “Sure it's Eric. But I think it makes the most sense if we consider he has been, well, possessed.”

“Well, what do we do?” asked Ali.

Skylar pointed at the page. “He's probably got some unfinished business he has to complete.”

“Well, since his unfinished business seems to be killing the mayor,” Dale paused for a moment to smirk, but then continued. “Can't we do an exorcism or something?”

“We might not have the time,” said Ali, turning back to the pair struggling in front of her.

“Jeb?” she said carefully, raising her hands in front of her in a peaceful gesture. “How can we fix this?”

“Won't be fixed til I make him pay!” shouted Jeb-Eric. “He took her away. Nothin'll be right til I give him what's comin' to him.” He was near tears and the arm holding the gun was wavering.

“Look,” said Ali slowly. “You don't seem like you want to hurt anyone. Why would we still be here, if you just wanted to hurt this man? What do you think you really want?”

Jeb-Eric sniffled. “Only thing that'd make me happy was if Lilah was here.” He stared down at the mayor. “Is she okay? What'd you do?”

“I don't know!” whimpered Gray. “Would you tell him I have no idea what the hell he's talking about!”

“Okay, guys,” cautioned Ali, stepping slightly closer to them. Both seemed to be getting more restless.

“Don't you know what he's capable of?” shouted Jeb-Eric. “This man's a monster!”

“Did you turn up anything about this guy?” asked Ali, looking over at the researchers and trying not to look guilty. She hoped no one had seen her flinch at the possessed man's word choice. “Is he from around here?”

“Possibly,” said Dale. “Bonnie's looking into it.”

“Could be he just found his way here through the portal,” added Skylar.

“Wherever that is,” smirked Dale.

“Could you loosen your grip a little?” Gray was asking. The deputy mayor responded by pushing the mayor further into the ground. “Shut your mouth, you low down dirty snake.”

“For Christ's sake, Eric,” growled Gray.

“Jeb?” asked a voice in the doorway. Mary Bailey stood there, with Bonnie beside her. She was smiling and teary eyed. Bonnie looked slightly queasy.

“Lilah!” called Jeb-Eric. He dropped the gun and the mayor in a quick movement. Gray scrambled towards the gun, but Ali picked it up before he could reach it.

The possessed lovers met in the middle of the room, and reached for each other's hands.

“Lilah, I thought somethin' awful'd happened, when you didn't meet me by the tradin' post, and I couldn't find ya anywhere,” said Jeb-Eric, brushing his hand through her hair.

“I wanted to be with you, Jeb,” said Lilah-Mary in a teary voice. “I tried so hard, darlin', I just got lost along the way.” She sobbed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Lost, for so long.”

“Don't matter, now,” said Jeb-Eric, pulling her closer. “I've found you now.” The lovers leaned in for a long kiss.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “I found her.”

The other spectators averted their eyes or tried to hide their smirking as the lovers continued their tight embrace. They stepped away from each other, suddenly wearing confused expressions.

“Mary? What are we...” Eric glanced around the room.

Mary was smoothing her hair back and looking around at the spectators. “Last thing I remember, I was...did I leave the bar unattended?”

“I'm sure it'll survive,” grumbled Gray, who was finally getting to his feet.

“You guys don't remember anything?” asked Ali, preventing the pair from leaving before giving her answers. “No moment before, or anything weird happening today?”

“Not especially,” said Eric as Mary shook her head.

“The ghosts – Jeb and whatever – they probably just latched onto the first couple they could find,” suggested Skylar. She and Dale shared a nervous glance.

“And they left 'cause they got closure,” nodded Ali. She glanced at the adults. “Right?”

“I think so. He's definitely gone,” said Eric.

Mary nodded, sharing a sideways look with Eric, then put on a business-like expression. “And I really need to get back to the bar.”

Eric nodded, taking her hand. “I'll help you.”

As they began to walk out, Gray protested “That's it? Don't you think we're going to have to fill out some kind of workplace incident report?”

“Oh, let them go,” said Bonnie with a sigh. “Lilah was a big over-sharer,” she said with an eye roll.

Margaret laughed as Ali recounted her latest encounters with the paranormal over tea. “The spirits are getting especially restless these days,” she said.

Ali sighed. It had been funny to tell the story, but there was something troubling about the ghosts' urgency. “Like they needed to latch onto some humans while they still could,” she said quietly.

Margaret leaned back in her chair. “I still think it's funny they picked those two, of all people, when there are so many hormonal young people waltzing around town. No offence.”

Ali nodded, staring at her mug, thinking. “I wish they could've explained to us. Why now, and where. Why do these ghosts always have to have their own agenda?”

Margaret chuckled. Noticing Ali's serious expression, she made her own serious face. “You'll figure this out. In time. You're working so hard.”

Ali smiled embarrassedly. “I don't have a choice.”

Margaret gave her a knowing look. “Everything's a choice. We're all proud of you, you know. Of all your efforts.”

Ali fidgeted. “If I could just figure out where to concentrate my efforts.” She leaned back again, watching as Margaret fidgeted with her wedding ring, and she recalled again the stranded Jeb and Lilah who'd conveniently hitched a ride with the deputy mayor and bartender. “Hey,” she said. “The others thought the portal's entrance was probably where the ghosts came from. That they probably latched onto the first pair of lovers they could find.”

Margaret nodded slowly.

“What if they were also the first people they could find?” asked Ali. “Maybe it was really close to where they both were. Mary said she'd left the bar unattended.”

Realization was dawning on Margaret's face. “You may as well check it out.”

“Think they're going to let me randomly look around?” asked Ali.

Margaret considered for a moment. “Maybe Jimmy can help you out. It could be town related business.”

Ali was skeptical, but the next day she stood in the midst of the sheriff's station at town hall. As Jimmy looked through a file, she glanced out the window. The Bailey's wall was only a few feet away, and from here, there seemed to be nothing sinister about the bar. Still, she was getting a growing sense of foreboding.

“Well, if you want to know about the bar's history, it's been renovated a few times,” said Jimmy. “But the original foundation goes back to the nineteenth century.”

Ali glanced at the blueprints. “What about down there?”

“The basement?” asked Jimmy. “I went down there, one time after the bombs, to check things out in case we needed more storage for the shelter. Some parts were bricked off but Mary said it goes on further than you can see. You know, the original plans might have more of a detailed map.”

Ali nodded. If she was going to venture down there, it would be good to have some kind of plan for where she should be looking.

“It's up in the records room,” said Jimmy. “I don't think the mayor will mind.”

She wasn't so sure about that, as she saw Gray Anderson leaning back from his desk, staring at them from within his office, as they walked by in the upstairs hallway. The man gave her a suspicious look that could've sent shivers down the spine of someone less used to fighting slimy creatures and spooks.

Inside the musty record room, she could feel her pulse beating excitedly. She hoped that they weren't barking up the wrong tree, but she wasn't very worried. Something told her that something was about to happen.

“Here, look at this,” said Jimmy, spreading out a very old looking floor plan. “It's like a total maze down there. I didn't know about those tunnels.” He pointed at some basement plans that clearly extended beyond the Bailey's frame.

“Jimmy,” asked Ali, whipping her head suddenly to the side. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” asked Jimmy, momentarily stopping the rustling of papers.

“What's in there?” she asked in an apprehensive voice.

“That?” he asked. “Just a storage closet, I think. Mayor probably keeps office stuff in there.”

“Office stuff that rattles?” she asked. She began inching towards the door.

“Uh, not to be a worrier or anything, but you might want to take it slowly and think about this -” began Jimmy.

Ali gave the door a swift kick. The lock broke and it swung open. A bedraggled man with his arms tied behind his back and a piece of duct tape on his mouth slumped to the floor in front of them. Ali knelt to carefully pull off the tape.

“I don't understand,” stammered Jimmy. “If – if you're in there, Gray, who's...”

“I'm sorry,” mumbled the mayor from his spot on the floor, just as a shadow fell across the doorway.

“Well, I think we can assume he's not the mayor,” said Ali, folding her arms and looking at the Gray Anderson-lookalike who was now in the doorway and towering taller, his eyes gleaming more ominously, than the businessman ever had.

“My name is unknown to you, but my purpose soon will be!” boomed the mayor-lookalike. He seemed to be growing, raising up towards the ceiling as he spoke. “I have been calling them here for weeks, preparing for the day.”

“What, is there a holiday or something?” asked Ali. “'Cause if so, I think you guys really owe me a present, for the number of times you've ruined my clothes.”

“Insolent one!” shouted the non-mayor, waving a hand and knocking Ali and Jimmy backwards. “The door is open, but once the old ones begin to reach out of it, it will become bigger and bigger, feeding on this town and all who come near it, until the barriers between worlds split wide apart! And then there will be no waiting, no crowding, and you won't be able to stop us.”

“Impressive,” said Ali, considering her foe and stepping forward. “But you know what they say, can't know 'til I try.” She swung her fist towards the non-mayor, but was distracted by the rumbling sound that suddenly filled the hall. The ground itself seemed to shake.

“It has begun!” shouted the demon, whose face had also begun to shift. He began to look less like Gray Anderson and more like a reptile crammed into a business suit, with his glowing red eyes, massive scales, and flickering tongue. “The world you humans have created for us, the wastelands and the cowering people we will find all over the countryside, is far better than any we could have dreamt up! Soon we will end your reign and ours will be the only one remembered. There is nothing you can do now!” he shouted. Shrieks and shouts began to echo from other parts of the building.

Ali glanced sideways at Jimmy. “Get out. Get everyone out,” she whispered.

Jimmy nodded, and edged his way out of the room. The creature wasn't even paying him any attention. His eyes were locked with Ali's.

She swung first, connecting with his face with a loud sickening crack. He roared, but her fist stung and she stepped back. He charged and knocked her to her feet, but she rolled out of the way and jumped up again.

He made a strange sound. She realized after a moment that he was laughing. “I sensed one was coming,” he said. “So it's you, is it? You're what this town offers as my match?”

She felt a strange sensation. A tingling, and a rush like she was standing in a wind, though they were inside. Her eyesight was sharpening, with everything suddenly appearing more intense. She felt as though her bones and muscles were swelling.

The creature was staring at her with interest. “I may as well make an offer,” he said. “You join me, and I'll give you free reign. Whatever you want, you can have, after we take the power from these lower life forms.”

“What?” she asked. A horrible realization was dawning on her. She glanced down at her own arm. She could see through it. She could see fire. A panic ran through her, but she tried not to let it show. “No! This is my town, and I'm going to protect it, and I'm not making any deals, so...so screw you!”

The creature's eyes widened, and she imagined if he had eyebrows he would be raising them. “These people you so sweetly want to protect – do they know what you are?”

She took a step, and another. She wasn't going to let him throw her off. She tackled him. He was the strongest creature she had ever fought, and she gasped as he tossed her effortlessly against the wall. “It – doesn't – matter,” she muttered, kicking at his legs and throwing him off balance for a moment.

He staggered forwards and bent right over her, grabbing onto her jacket collar. She winced. She didn't know what kind of diet the reptile creature had been surviving on but his breath was pretty pungent. She stared back at his beady eyes. “Oh no?” he whispered. He glanced at the window. “Have they even seen your real face?”

She couldn't help it. She looked sideways, at her reflection in the window. The face, familiar and suddenly different, sharp and glowing, stared back at her. She gasped. Just then, the creature's rough arms pulled her up. He flung her backwards and with a huge crash, she found herself falling through the breaking window, falling down to the pavement of the parking lot behind town hall.

She hit the ground hard. Moaning, she moved amidst the shards of broken glass. She could feel her muscles working and it seemed nothing was damaged too badly. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to get up for a few moments. She stared up at the sky through her sharpened vision, and found it clouding with tears.

“Ali! Hey, Ali!” came a voice suddenly. Before she knew what was happening, a pair of hands was grabbing her by the arms. She glanced up at Emily Sullivan, who was leaning over her, a look of panic on her face. “Are you okay?” asked Miss Sullivan. “Wait, stupid question, of course you're not okay. Just – just try not to move and we'll get a stretcher here as soon as –”

“No,” said Ali, sitting up quickly and pulling herself back from her teacher. She brushed Emily's arms away. She didn't want her to look at her, or to touch her and discover how different she was. She stood, brushing the glass off of her clothes. “No, I'm fine.” She started to back up.

Emily was staring in shock, but she stepped towards Ali. “Let me help you. Please, it'll be okay.”

“No, you can't!” said Ali, staggering into a run. She didn't know where she was going, only that she wanted to get away from her teacher's gaze.

“Why?” shouted Emily after her.

Because I'm a monster, she thought to herself as she ran, swiping at her eyes.

There was a chaotic crowd gathering on Spruce Lane in front of town hall. She only vaguely registered the screams and mayhem. She only wanted to get past the people. She kept from looking at any of them, thinking if she didn't make eye contact they'd be less likely to notice. She was shocked when someone grabbed onto her, just as she was about the dash around the side of the Cyberjolt cafe. “Mom!” she shouted.

“Ali, what is going on?” cried her mother. She gripped Ali's arms. Ali wanted to keep running, but couldn't bring herself to shake her off. “I have to go,” she said. “Before they see!”

“Before they -” Her mother had been looking at her in confusion but she suddenly nodded. “You see yourself differently,” she said quickly. “Like your father.” She looked at her again. “Come on.”

Mother led daughter into the alley, away from the crowd. She stared at her. Ali felt her words coming out in a jumble. “The mayor is a monster! Well, he's not the real mayor. He was keeping the real mayor hostage, so when I found Gray Anderson, this reptile thing that was pretending to be him showed his true colours. I told Jimmy to get away while I fought him, and then I felt myself changing! He could see it, Mom.”

Her mother sighed, but gave her a serious smile. “I know it must feel strange, but Ali, you look the same to me. You'll look the same to – wait, Jimmy was there?”

Ali nodded.

“Is he okay?” asked her mother.

Ali took a breath. “I don't know. I think he would've had time.” She glanced around the corner. Searching the faces, she finally spotted him, helping to haul an injured Jake Green through a broken window. “It's bad out there,” she said.

Beside her, her mother nodded. There was something funny in the look on her face. Like she was resigning herself to something. “Looks like they'll need you.”

Ali ran a hand through her hair. “Do they really need someone like me? What if they find out?”

The screams were hard to ignore by now. Her mother put a hand on her shoulder. “They'll see you for who you're meant to be.”

Ali took a breath, telling herself not to cry. “What if I can't do this?”

Her mother's grip on her shoulder tightened. She looked over at the panicked crowd and back at Ali. “You know, I wanted a normal life for you and your brother. Even though I knew, with your father, our chances weren't...and me and him, I wouldn't have had that any other way...” she looked down, and back at Ali. “I knew this day would come. No one is going to fight that battle alone. And you have a chance to do some real good out there. But it's your choice. If you want to leave, we can get your brother and get as far away from here as we can. If you want to help, you can choose it.”

Ali glanced towards the screams. The choices were all bad and in some ways it seemed like they weren't really choices at all. Still, hearing it from her mother made it seem realer. “I have to try,” she said.

Her mother smiled, a small, slightly scared, partly proud smile. “I'll help,” she said.

Moments later, the two of them ran towards the frightened crowd. People were trying to treat those who had escaped from town hall; they were all covered in some kind of tar-like substance and some had nasty burns. Others were organizing weapons. Jake Green was hopping around on one leg. “Do we have a full headcount from town hall?”

Eric Green, who seemed to have lost most of his beard to the burning tar, was waving his arms frantically. “You, pile those here!”

“Nobody go any closer! The stuff's still oozing out the door!” shouted Bill Kohler.

“Ali!” it was Skylar. She and Dale were supervising the loading of guns with salt. “We're getting the weapons ready.”

“You with us?” asked Dale.

They were looking at her, but no one else was. Everyone else was in a panic, dashing around and trying to organize. She nodded quickly.

A loud exploding sound came from the bar. Ali noticed its windows were completely black. “Stanley and Mimi are in there,” said Bonnie, who had come up beside her. Her face was panicked. “No one can get in and no one's heard from the people in there.”

Ali reached for one of the weapons Sean was handing out. “Well, let's get going.”

The fighters were organizing quickly, the volunteer medics pulling everyone else back. Ali glanced at her friends and shot them a quick smile before facing the building again, which was making an ominous groaning sound.

There was silence. Then, all at once, the remaining windows of both buildings shattered. As the ghouls and monsters began to spill out, the townspeople ran forward.

 

 

 

 

“All that and she left you hanging there?” asked Heather. The two teachers were walking along Mulberry street and the sun was low in the October sky. “Right at the start of the epic battle?”

Emily nodded.

“No telling who's going to survive, no sequel with all the secrets explained and who marries who and stuff?” continued Heather.

“Nope,” said Emily with a smirk. She shifted her bag to her other shoulder. “Though maybe I made it. I'm not even sure if I was supposed to be there for the big fight.”

Heather giggled. “I guess that'd be too awkward, putting your teacher in. Was I in it?”

Emily considered her friend for a moment. “Uh, not sure. Don't tell anyone I told you about it.”

“Secret's safe with me,” grinned Heather. “Least she really gave you your money's worth, right? You wanted her to bring Halloween to Jericho...she brought pretty much everything.”

Emily smirked. “Well, there weren't any fairies. Or creepy twins.”

“At least there's that,” said Heather.

They turned onto Elgin Street. Their shadows stretched ahead of them on the sidewalk.

“I think it's a good thing you're doing,” said Heather, glancing at her friend. “It's kind of a weird process and all, but I think it's good how you're sticking with it. Trying to help these kids.”

“Thanks,” said Emily. She chuckled. “Though of course, they're not kids.”

“Oh, of course,” said Heather, adopting the same tone, and they both smiled. “Oh, look,” she grinned. “Mr. Messy survived!” She pointed to the carved pumpkin sitting out on her front porch. “See, we don't have quite the problem with juvenile delinquents some people might have us believe.”

Emily laughed. “You've made it to Halloween, Mr. Messy. Congratulations.”

Heather smiled as she pulled out her key. “Still standing. Like us all.”

Inside the house, Emily moved around the familiar space of her friend's kitchen, putting together a pre-party snack as Heather put away her work things. “I'm going to take a quick shower. Wash the dodge ball game off before the party,” said Heather. “You want anything?”

“I'm good,” said Emily, settling into her usual seat on the living room couch as her friend puttered around and then made her way to the bathroom. She glanced at her work bag.

It wasn't quite like working after hours if she was enjoying herself, was it? She'd been trying to make a concentrated effort not to fill every hour with working lately, after she'd realized how little downtime she'd allowed herself the last month, but surely it would be fine to read one more of the stories. The last one had been entertaining. She reached into her bag and fished out the two remaining stories. Closing her eyes, she dropped one onto the table and then looked down at the one in her hands. Dale's.

 

 

 

Party Crasher 

by Dale Turner 

 

It was the night of the second Halloween after the bombs and the people in the small town were happily celebrating. They had no idea what was waiting for them. The kids had mostly finished up with their pranks and games and were fighting over bedtimes, while at Bailey's tavern, the adults were having a party of their own.

It was a pretty swinging party, by their standards. They weren't wearing costumes, but they were having a good time. Especially compared to the time they'd had the year before. Then, it had been all horror at the bad guys out there waiting to raid them for supplies and space, and people complaining about how they missed their Pop Rocks and Tootsie Rolls that they were certain would be in the store again some day, and there were all these love triangles and angsty fights and speech contests that usually annoyed people more than helped. Luckily, by the second year, people were calmer, if not happier. They knew there wasn't going to be any more Pop Rocks, and there's always a relief in finally knowing. Now, they could drink smuggled booze and heat up the dance floor in some kind of peace.

So it was that the townspeople partied at Bailey's, completely unaware of the strange event happening just a few miles outside of town. In the south woods, in a clearing no one ever visits, a mound of dirt that had been sitting still for almost a year was suddenly moving. As Stanley Richmond was raising his glass in the air in a wild toast at the party, a dirty, rotting, glistening hand was bursting out of the earth in the south woods. The hand felt around on the ground beside it, trying to get a grip, and the earth kept churning. Another hand, trailing a ragged sleeve, followed the first, and then a man's head came out of the dirt too. His face was partly decomposed, but he looked the same amount of terrifying as he had while alive. He grunted and groaned and pulled the rest of his torso and legs out of the ground, shaking the dirt off of them and standing up to stretch in the moonlight. He opened his mouth and shouted a long, wordless shout, turning his face to the sky. The south woods echoed with it. He began trudging through the woods.

At the bar, the partygoers were laughing and cheering as they took turns doing the limbo. They were caught up in their activities so none of them noticed the pair just outside the window.

Allison Hawkins and Scott Nystom were about to be arriving late for the party, but before they opened the door, they got caught up again, doing the same thing that made them late in the first place. Allison broke off the lip lock for a moment to worry, “Shouldn't we go in? People might wonder. My mother's at this party.”

“They'll survive. Since when are you afraid?” asked Scott.

“I'm not,” said Allison, pulling him closer. “Afraid you can't keep up with me, maybe.”

They were interrupted in their next kiss by the loud voice and its wordless shriek. “Aurrggh.” The teens jumped and stared at an approaching figure. He held his arms out in a jerky motion and stumbled towards them.

The bar patrons were finally distracted from their game of impressions by the sound of Allison's scream.

“Turn off the music! What's going on out there?” shouted Eric Green.

“Allison?” asked Darcy Hawkins from one side of the room. “Was that my daughter?”

“I'll go check,” said Bill. But before he could open the door, it was flung open. A crazed looking Scott Nystrom ran into the room, and right behind him lurched the zombie from the woods.

Screams erupted around the room as people saw his hideous, decaying face. “Who – who is that?” Mimi Clark managed to choke out as she hid behind the pool table.

Mary Bailey squinted. “It looks like – is that Mitchell Cafferty?”

More screams as Mitchell stumbled forward, reaching his arms for the townspeople who were backing up. Just as he was about to clasp a hand around Emily Sullivan's wrist, Sean Henthorn leapt forward and hit him on the head with a pool cue.

Bill grabbed the zombie around the arms and wrestled him out the door, shrieking as Mitch sunk his teeth into the deputy's shoulder. “He's crazy!” he shouted, as Major Beck slammed the door after the party crasher.

“Where's Allison?” Darcy was shouting now, running to look out the window.

“She's dead,” moaned Scott from the floor, where Heather Lisinski was trying to help him to his feet. “We were – we were just – that, that thing came out of nowhere and just attacked...he...he bit her and – I tried but I – couldn't...I couldn't...”

“No,” Darcy whispered, shaking her head. “No, my baby's out there, and until I see her -”

Suddenly a figure slammed against the window, a pair of hands slapping the glass with a loud sound. The grotesque face that pressed against the window a few inches from Darcy growled. Darcy leapt back. “Allison?” she asked. “But how?” She began stepping towards the door again.

“Don't open it!” shouted Sean, rushing forward to get in the way.

“And why is it you think I won't?” asked Darcy, getting a dangerous tone in her voice as she stared him down.

“It's not her anymore,” said Sean quickly. “She's a zombie.”

There were snorts and murmurs all through the room. “It's not a goof!” shouted Sean over their protests. “This is how it always begins. First there's one, and then another, and soon we're totally overrun and they're chowing down on all of us before we can reach the exit.”

The door behind him thumped, and Sean leaned against it, keeping it shut.

“Hold on, everyone,” said Gray Anderson, stepping out to the front of the crowd and holding up his hands. “We'll have this situation under control in no time. Jimmy, Bill, if you can just go out there and subdue the, er, suspect, and then Kenchy,” he nodded towards Kenchy Dhuwalia, who was cowering near the broken payphone, “Soon as we get the injured girl to the clinic, I'm sure you'll be able to -”

“Don't you need some kind of plan before you go out there?” asked Stanley. He stepped towards the mayor and Sean. “You know, I'm pretty sure that was Allison Hawkins, but she looks really different. And Mitch...” Stanley looked especially torn as he forced his next words out. “Sean could be onto something.”

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” said Gray. “Bill, will you please – Aaah!”

Gray had turned and seen, at the same time as everyone else, the way Bill bared his teeth before letting out a wordless shout. He lurched toward Gray, who quickly dodged him. Bill jerked his arms around, looking for new prey, but Sean and Stanley grabbed his arms, trying to restrain him without being bit.

“Still think this is under control?” shouted Stanley.

“Keep him – keep him from biting anyone,” muttered Gray as the rest of the people in the room screamed and scrambled to get further away. Some climbed on tables and chairs, and a few dove behind the bar.

“We can't hold him much longer,” said Sean in a strained voice. The three men looked like they were doing an especially ridiculous square dance, with Bill struggling to get away or bite into someone's flesh and Sean and Stanley pulling him back and forth between them.

“Here, throw him out!” shouted Emily. Arming herself with a pool cue, she ran over to the door. Beck and Eric stepped forwards too. Bracing herself, Emily opened the door.

As they tried to throw Bill out the door, other molting zombie arms crowded into the space. “Get them back!” shouted Eric as Stanley and Sean flung their captive at the others. The three of them used a chair to push the zombies, but more seemed to be crowding forwards. Beck pulled out a pistol and fired it out the door. As the bar patrons covered their ears and gasped, the zombie crowd thinned out momentarily. It was long enough for Emily and Eric to slam the door shut.

“That wasn't just Mitch and Allison,” breathed Sean.

Seeing that they were under attack from forces greater than anticipated, the people in the bar hastily began to barricade the doors with the tables, chairs, and any other things they could find. “There's file cabinets in the office!” shouted Mary.

“Shouldn't we do the windows?” asked Skylar Stevens.

“I'll go upstairs and see if I can get a better view of the situation,” announced Eric.

Darcy sat at one of the remaining bar stools, her face tear-streaked but stony. Margaret Taylor sat beside her, whispering something quietly.

“They're everywhere!” came Eric's voice a little while later. The flurry of activity stopped and everyone was silent, though many eyes brimmed with tears. He shook his head and pinched his brow the way he did when he had to deliver bad news. “I don't know who they all are or where they're coming from, but there are tons of them. Maybe thirty, forty of them on Main Street, the part I could see.”

Chaos descended on the room. Everyone spouted their panicked ideas at once. Beck pulled Gray aside, and soon several of the rangers had gathered around. “We need a plan and we need one now.”

“We don't even know what we're dealing with,” Gray said.

“We should be getting all the weapons we can find!” said Stanley.

Eric was looking around frantically. “What about the people out there? Mom's at home, and we don't know how many others could be stuck.”

“We can figure out what to do about the rest of the town after we get these people to safety,” said Emily.

“Guys,” said Jimmy, motioning at the crowd. People were beginning to argue with each other and their voices were getting louder.

A few minutes later, after a hurried discussion with a few more of the usual leaders, Gray called everyone to attention. “We need to go somewhere we can all be safe while we sort this out. Somewhere bigger, less surrounded, easier to defend. We're going to need supplies too.”

“One group is going to go to the med centre,” said Eric. “We'll be picking up the medical supplies and all the ammo we stored there last time the government was doing checks.”

“And the other group,” continued Gray. “Is going to the warehouse in the east side. Dale and Skylar have a big stockpile of food and other goods there. Both groups,” he continued, “Will be meeting at the high school. From there we'll set up a camp and come up with a plan for finding other survivors. Questions?”

“Who goes where?” asked Lisa Whalley.

“The rangers are going with me to the clinic,” said Gray. “And anyone else up for a fight. We're figuring there might be a lot of them near there since it's where we've had so many...casualties die in the past.” He cleared his throat. “Beck's taking the other group to the warehouse. The rationing and planning team is going with them. You'll take some of the weapons we can muster up because you could run into trouble too.”

Friends glanced at each other through this speech. Lovers tried not to let their eyes meet. Dale and Skylar smiled briefly at each other and were serious as they looked at the crowd.

“What if there's a cure for this?” someone shouted. Darcy's eyes were questioning. Kenchy cleared his throat. “I'll try to figure something out when we get to our destination. Til then, avoid them at all costs. Don't shoot if you can help it, but do not allow them to bite you.”

“Okay, let's move out!” shouted Gray. “Remember, if you encounter any of them along the way, any that look like your friends or neighbours, know that it isn't them anymore.”

Dale and Skylar stood to the side, waiting for their group to come together. They knew, from the discussion that'd happened before the whole room had been told, that Heather, Mary, and Mimi were coming with them. Mary and Mimi exchanged quick, teary goodbyes with Eric and Stanley, and Margaret also said goodbye to Jimmy before coming to stand beside Darcy. Major Beck gave her a small, grim smile. Sean waved a quick goodbye to his smuggler friends before joining the rangers and to Dale's relief, Lisa Whalley went with the rangers too, loudly explaining that she'd rather be with the people who knew what they were doing in a fight.

Dale's group had a few guns from the collection the resistance had left in the basement. They passed them around and Beck whispered a few orders. Everyone in the room took a collective breath as they waited for the group leaders to open the doors. “Now!” shouted Eric, as on one side of the room, Gray opened the front door for his group. Beck's group quickly filed out of the back door and into the night.

Gunshots echoed from the other side of the building, but nothing seemed to be waiting for them on their side as they began picking their way through the dark. This did nothing to relieve the tension for most of them though, and Dale could see Mimi, Mary, and Margaret glancing over their shoulders in the direction the other group had gone. Darcy, however, stared straight ahead, her jaw set.

The walk through the dark was long, made longer by how afraid everyone was with each corner and alley they passed. They walked mostly in silence, stopping now and then as the people at the front of the group scouted ahead for danger. Dale and Skylar brought up the rear as they were two of the best shots in the group. They didn't speak to each other much. They were used to being out in the field, getting through tense times and putting off their own personal worries until later. Dale noticed that in the middle of the group, Darcy and Margaret were having a hasty, whispered conversation.

They ran into just two single zombies on the way to the warehouse. Once, a male zombie jumped out from behind a fence before the group crossed the street. “Don't shoot,” cautioned Beck, but Gary Walcott panicked and took out the undead figure. Everyone stood, frozen for a few minutes, staring around, waiting for more to come. When none did, Beck gave the signal to keep walking. Jenny Pritchett and Kenchy turned over the body. “Fred,” muttered Dale as they walked past the fallen zombie.

The second came at them from the side. Unable to keep quiet, Mimi screamed. Dale shot without hesitating this time. A few people gave him dark looks. “If we've gotta do it, we should do it quickly,” he shrugged. No one looked closer at this one, though Skylar noticed her permed hair.

They were mostly silent at the warehouse as they sorted and packed the supplies into the trucks. It was the opposite of the screaming and crying that had happened back at the bar. It was like they were waiting for something, and they all knew somehow that they must stay quiet. Like it would slow things down til the next incident. Or maybe it would make things happen sooner, put an end to waiting for the painful inevitable.

They finished loading and piled into the trucks. Dale sat beside Skylar, who drove the truck at the front of the caravan. Their cargo was mostly people riding in the back. The trucks behind them brought food and ammunition and a few other essentials. They drove quickly and again, silently towards the school, taking the least traveled roads to the town's north end. They didn't run into any other citizens, though perhaps the undead were hiding off the road, watching them. When they got to the school, everyone was cautious. The people with guns kept to the front of the group while the ones armed with bats and pool cues followed. The school was untouched though, and soon they secured the east wing. Everyone unpacked the supplies as quickly as possible, storing them in the locker rooms as they planned to set up camp in the gym. A few people with guns stood guard the whole time. Soon, the last load of canned goods was on its way indoors. Dale and Skylar still scanned the area and held their guns at the ready. Heather was quickly checking the trucks for signs of damage, and Mary, Mimi, and Margaret were keeping her company, though the way they kept glancing into the night suggested they were waiting to see something else outside. “Come on, guys!” called Skylar.

Heather walked up to her friends, and shared a quick smile with them. But as she glanced over her own shoulder, she gasped. “On my God!” The others turned to look. Two small figures were standing at the edge of the parking lot. “Julie, is that you?” she called out. “Lucas?”

The tiny figures started walking forward. Dale sighed as he recognized their jerky walk.

Heather started to run towards the children. “Heather, wait!” shouted Dale, running forwards to grab onto her arm. Skylar was there a second later.

“We can't just leave them!” shouted Heather.

“You have to! It's not them anymore!” shouted Skylar.

Heather was near tears and still struggling to get free. “Let go! What are you going to do, huh? They're just kids.”

Dale and Skylar let go, and Mary and Margaret came to stand on either side of Heather. Mary put her arm around her friend, and Margaret stared off at the children, who were coming closer. With tears in her eyes, Margaret said evenly, “We should go inside.”

“What?” asked Heather, glancing between them.

“There's nothing we can do for them right now,” said Margaret. “But you don't need to see them.”

Heather looked like she would protest further, but as she glanced at the advancing children, she recoiled. Their faces were gaunt and their skin crumbling. Their eyes were vacant and hollow. “Heather,” said Mary in a pleading voice. She was in tears herself. With a torn look on her face still, Heather gave a nod. Mimi opened the door and the friends went inside, leaving Skylar and Dale and their guns with the zombies. Dale glanced at Skylar. “Remember the dumpster where the jocks used to smoke?”

Skylar nodded, and turned to the kids who were now only a few feet away.

Some of the survivors were laying down mats on the gym floor when Skylar and Dale went inside ten minutes later. It didn't look as though most people were going to sleep any time soon however. Darcy, Margaret, and Beck were having a hushed conversation a little ways away from the crowd. Kenchy was checking for injuries. Mary was helping set up the sleeping quarters and Mimi was counting water bottles. Heather sat on the wooden bleachers, lost in thought as she tried to make a list of those alive and those spotted as zombies.

She looked somewhat accusingly at Dale as they came inside. “Did you take care of it?” she asked quietly.

“We kept them alive,” said Skylar. Noticing how people nearby were looking and listening, Dale spoke up. “We just trapped two zombie kids in the dumpster cage behind the football field. It'll hold them, but if anything else shows up, we won't be able to be so humanitarian.”

Even Darcy and Beck had stopped talking now and were looking over at him. Dale looked at Kenchy. “I know you said we should wait and see if there's a cure, but what do you think the chances are of us finding out anything from here?”

Kenchy glanced around at the worried faces. “Remote,” he said. “I don't know what this is. I've never seen anything like it.”

The room was suddenly noisy as for the first time since the bar, everyone was talking at once, suggesting theories ranging from radiation after effects to biological warfare. Dale stepped up on the first step of the bleachers and continued talking. “Then until we get some answers, we can't take chances. Anything comes here to hurt us, we have to protect us. It's sad, but it's the way it is. Us or them.”

He looked over at Beck, who seemed annoyed that someone was trying to take over his job as speech maker. It was too bad, but he didn't know this town like they did. It wasn't his neighbours turning into zombies. The major strode over to Dale, trying to look like he was okay with sharing. “I agree with Dale. We need to be vigilant. But we need to take care of our resources too. Don't waste anything, including your ammo. We need to sit tight until the other supplies get here.”

“When'll that be?” asked someone in the crowd. “They're taking their sweet time.”

Beck's look was grim. The overbearing silence in the room contained so many worries about family and friends of unknown whereabouts. “They'll be here. Until then, I suggest we settle in for the wait.”

The room settled somewhat, though the tense atmosphere was unmistakeable. People sat on their mats and a few dozed, but most were waiting. The dark and the silence went on and on, but no one could do anything else but wait.

Then, sometime in the middle of the night, a shout from the guards posted outside the west doors broke the spell of tense quiet. “Got two, coming inside now!” called Gary Walcott.

Lanterns were lit as two survivors were led into the gym. Their clothes were covered in dirt and ash, and their faces looked haunted. Jimmy managed a small smile, but Stanley's face was grim.

Mimi ran to Stanley and flung herself into his arms. He pulled her close and kissed her gently, but his expression was still somber. Margaret laughed and cried as she hugged Jimmy, who looked at her and then down at the ground before he could look at the others who were gathering. Dale and Skylar, as well as Darcy, Beck, Mary, and Heather, circled around them. After a moment of silence, Darcy asked, “Where are the others?”

Stanley let go of Mimi for a moment, and his expression still wild, he looked back and forth between his friends. His eyes settled on Mary. He stepped slightly closer to her, and though he spoke to everyone, he was still looking at her. “They're gone. I'm sorry.”

Around the room, several people sobbed. Mary's eyes filled with tears but she stayed silent as the others asked the next questions. Heather put her arm around her friend. “What happened?”

“We got ambushed,” said Stanley in a shaky voice. “Seemed like they were coming from everywhere. We tried to fight them but there were so many. Some of them were people we knew.”

“We hid in an old ambulance. Just barely got away ourselves. We could hear sounds. Horrible sounds,” said Jimmy. He looked as though he was trying to keep from crying.

“After a while, we went back, tried to find other survivors,” continued Stanley. “But we couldn't find anyone. Well, except a few who were turned. Had to shoot Donny Wilkens to keep him from biting me.” He looked down. “We figured we'd come find you and maybe some of the others would do the same.”

He and Jimmy shared, for a moment, a hopeful look. Dale shook his head. Jimmy gave a slow, sad nod.

Beck handed each man a water bottle. “How many would you say?” he asked. “How many do you think there were?”

“Something like fifty, maybe sixty,” said Jimmy. Stanley nodded.

“Heather's making a list,” said Beck. Heather's face was white as a ghost. She looked as though her list was the last thing on her mind. Looking as though it pained him greatly, Jimmy began rattling off names.

The entire gym was listening now, and each name seemed to echo and bounce violently against the walls as everyone else was silent. Dale stepped away slightly, taking in their surroundings again. He made a quick inventory of the food and supplies, and their numbers. He wished they'd split the good fighters evenly between the groups. He turned back. Jimmy was just finishing and there was silence.

“So you didn't...didn't ever see him?” whispered Mary. “You didn't see Eric later, when they were...changed?”

Stanley shook his head. “But Mary, I don't think he...no.” He stepped forward and awkwardly reached out his arms. “I'm sorry.”

“We don't know yet who's still alive,” said Jimmy. “There could be lots of other survivors out there. People could start trickling in. And when we're ready, we can go scouting. Do some rescue missions.”

Dale shook his head. “Doesn't matter who else is out there. There are more than fifty of them waiting to destroy us.”

Everyone was looking at him again. He steeled himself. “This isn't safe. Here. We need to move out. Get out of town. Out of the whole area, if this thing is spreading. Leave while we still can.”

A few people protested. Beck broke in. “Dale's right. We aren't equipped to deal with this here. We have limited resources, we've lost most of our strongest fighters, and most importantly, we have no way of getting information and getting a view of the big picture.” He glanced over at Darcy. “Darcy and I have been talking. She thinks she knows a way to contact her husband, and he and Jake Green may be able to help us. They have contacts, and I have some old contacts who will be sympathetic too. Our best chance is if we can get somewhere we can reach them. We can send help back for anyone left behind.”

“What if it's too late for them then?” asked Heather.

“It might be too late for them now,” said Dale. “But at least someone with more resources has a chance of helping them. We need to help ourselves.”

“We'll take one of the buses, and as many supplies as we can carry,” said Beck. “We'll head north, see if we can hit the army base there.”

“That's ASA,” protested Mimi, whose face was streaked with tears. “Why would they help us?”

“Something like this spreading could destroy even their hold on the country,” said Beck. “It would be in their best interest to stop it.” He looked at Dale. “Can you get us there on one of your trading routes?”

Dale glanced at Skylar, and back at Beck. He nodded. He turned to the group. “Okay, we'll have to pack up as quickly as we can. Kenchy and Mimi, organize the med supplies. Only what we'll absolutely need. Stanley and Jimmy, you're on weapons. Mary and Heather, get the food rationed -”

“I want to stay,” said Mary.

Dale turned and stared at her. “What?”

Mary had been standing between Mimi and Heather, but she stepped forward now. “We were going to try to survive here. I think it's just as safe as going out there. Maybe more. It's our home. We've done it before.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Beck looked wary.

Dale gritted his teeth. “You're not going to find him. And if you do, you know he won't be Eric. He'll eat you alive.”

Mary didn't blink. “I know. I still want to stay.”

Dale stared at her. He knew he should understand. He'd played that tape of his mother's voice over and over before he'd understood. But how many things had they both been through since? “Fine. Go be Mrs. Zombie if you want. Anyone else want to be crazy?” He looked around and avoided her gaze.

“I will,” said Stanley. “I mean, I'll stay. It's not crazy.” He turned and looked at Mimi, a question in his eyes. Her eyes had widened at first, but now she looked determined as she gave a nod. She stepped forward and stood beside Mary again. “We'll stay,” she said.

Dale sighed. “There's being a good friend and there's being stupid, getting yourself killed.”

“I'd rather get myself killed here with my friends than out there in the dark,” said Mimi.

“And we might not get killed. Mary's right. We have home court advantage here,” said Stanley. He stepped up and kissed Mimi's forehead.

“Anyone else want to play with those awesome odds?” asked Dale, his heart sinking as Heather stepped forward too.

“Heather, we'll get help for the kids when we get some outside communication,” said Margaret in a more reasonable tone than Dale could muster.

“Robert...and Jake,” began Darcy carefully, looking around as all eyes fell on her. “They might be our best bet. We can't do this alone.”

Heather glanced at Mary, Mimi, and Stanley. “I can't leave my friends,” she said. Before Dale could say anything else, she continued, “Emily's my friend. Eric's my friend.” She grasped Mary's hand for a moment and kept talking. “Bill.” Jimmy looked down. “Jordan Engles, Lana Phelps, Mrs. McVeigh.” She paused to take a breath. “Gail Green, who has already lost most of her family.” Mary and Stanley nodded in agreement. “We don't know if those people are out there. Maybe they're as lost and scared as we are. I want to be here so they can find us, if we don't find them first.”

There was a silence in which Mimi sniffled loudly. Dale glanced at their group's other ringleaders, his eyebrows raised. “I may have lost my daughter tonight,” said Darcy. “And I don't know if my son's okay. I want to go get him so badly. But I think now that getting help is the best thing I can do for him.”

Margaret nodded. “I agree with Darcy. We don't know if our kids are okay, and it's killing me, but I can't imagine what'll happen to them if we end up like Bill. We'll make sure we get back to them in one piece.”

Jimmy looked extremely uncomfortable as he looked back and forth between his friends. “I go where Margaret goes. And I think she's right. We're in way over our heads.” He looked pleadingly from Heather, to Mary, to Stanley. “You sure you won't come with us, man?”

Stanley's look was softer as he shook his head. “Sorry, can't.” His look hardened as he turned back to Dale.

“Think about it, Stanley,” said Dale. “How can you do this?”

“Jake would've,” said Stanley. “So would Eric. And so would...” he glanced at Mimi, who gave him a faint smile. “Lots of other people. You have to get ready. Don't waste your time trying to convince me.”

Dale nodded at the others. Beck, Margaret, Jimmy, and Darcy began to make plans and recruit the others in the gym to help with the packing. A number of people wanted to stay behind with Mary, Stanley, Mimi, and Heather and soon the groups were haggling over supplies.

Dale rolled his eyes and started to walk towards the change room where the ammo was stored. He wanted to oversee when they started dividing it. It was one thing to give up his hard earned supplies for a group in need during a zombie crisis, but another to have to give up half your stash to a bunch of people dumb enough to make themselves sitting ducks.

“Can you believe them?” asked Dale as Skylar walked alongside him. “We could be screwed now. We're losing one of our best fighters, one of our only mechanics, two of the people with actual contacts outside of town -”

“I think they're right,” said Skylar.

Dale turned to stare at her.

“This is where we grew up. We know all the tricks and hiding places. We even recognize our zombies,” she said. “I don't know how that's going to help, but maybe it could. You know, there goes Mr. Meyers, he probably still has bad knees as a zombie.”

“You're not serious are you?” he asked.

“I am,” she said. “Not that any of you thought to ask me.”

“I'm sorry, I just -” he was struggling to find words. “I didn't think you'd pick the insane door number two. How can you want to put your chance of surviving onto the losing side like this?”

“The losing side? What's that, the not-yet-zombies?” she asked with a laugh.

He shook his head. “Them, I can understand. They don't get it yet. But you, you're smarter than that.”

“We're not so different,” she said with a shrug. “Mary's right about home being just as good a chance as out there. And what Heather said, about our friends in town. I have other friends too you know.”

“You can't save them,” he said. “That's what the others want to do. You know that right? They're already gone. Anyone who doesn't realize that is an idiot.” He wrung his hands, wanting to somehow show her. “See, if those people in there encounter some of these friends they're so attached to, and if those friends are not by some miracle still okay, there's two ways it's going to go down. They'll either be eaten, killed, and turned into zombies themselves, or they'll have to shoot to kill. Creatures with their friends' faces. Either way they'll turn into monsters.”

Skylar looked unimpressed. “Why are you so sure nothing will survive?”

Dale looked sadly at her. “I know how it is to want to stop it. To think you can wish it away, when someone dies. But you can't. The only sane thing to do is to move on, and get as far the hell away from here as we can.”

For the first time that night, her eyes were teary. “I can't,” she said. “I'm sorry.” She took a breath. “This'll be easier if I go work on a different committee.” She turned and walked back into the gym. When she was gone, he turned and smashed his hand into a locker. A metal clang echoed through the locker room.

Everyone was solemn as the two groups said their goodbyes a short while later. Friends hugged, a few messages for the outside world or loved ones left behind were exchanged, and then Dale's group was filing out of the room, preparing to board their bus. Before he left, Skylar stepped up and threw her arms around his neck. “I can't say goodbye and be mad at you,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded, holding her for as long as he could. “I'm not mad either,” he whispered. They kissed one more time, and he let go, walking away and not letting himself look back. Moving on, getting far away.

The mood was different as they boarded the bus than it had been when they'd first gone out in the night. They were fewer in number and they knew more of the dangers waiting for them, but they also had accepted the truth, which made things somewhat easier.

Jimmy was driving the bus, with Dale riding near the front. Beck and Darcy were guarding the rear of the bus with rifles. A few others were stationed guarding the middle of the bus. “Stop for living survivors, but nothing else,” Beck cautioned as Jimmy started the engine. “We'll drive north and try to hit the communication station at my old camp. The people cleared out but some of the equipment they left behind might still work.”

The bus rattled along the roads in the eerie quiet night. They passed no signs of life, though Dale kept his eyes peeled. After a while the people in the bus began to talk quietly amongst themselves. Following the events of the night so far, the trip seemed like a surreal kind of dream.

At a fork in the road, Jimmy suddenly gasped. “What is it?” asked Dale.

“Bill,” he said.

The figure standing in the road directly in front of them did look much like the former deputy. Dale turned to Jimmy. “You have to keep going.”

“But -” protested Jimmy. He was already slowing down.

“We said only stop for the living!” shouted Dale. “You know he's -”

“I can't!” shouted Jimmy. He started to turn the wheel. From the back of the bus, Beck was shouting something. Dale tried to grab the steering wheel, but Jimmy pulled back. Suddenly their bus was veering off the road. Dale tried to turn them back, but in seconds they hit the side of a tree with a loud crash. The bus was stopped and steam was coming out of the hood.

“Great!” grumbled Dale. “Now we're stuck, and who knows what's waiting out there.”

“Sorry, I...” mumbled Jimmy.

“Never mind,” said Darcy, coming to the front of the bus. “Someone has to fix the damage. Volunteers?”

“I...could try,” suggested Dirk Hensley, raising his hand. “I'm not as good as...but I helped my cousin at the shop sometimes.”

“Do it,” said Beck. “Take a few guards. Everyone else sit tight.”

Dale stood, holding his gun and motioning. A few other people, including Dirk, Darcy, and Jimmy followed.

Dirk set to work assessing the damage with trembling hands. Everyone else stood scanning the area uneasily.

“Can you fix it?” asked Jimmy.

“Give me a minute,” said Dirk.

“Shh,” motioned Darcy. Everyone was silent. She was looking off to the distance to the right of the bus. Someone tried to speak but she glared. Everyone looked in the same direction she was looking. And then the sound became apparent. It was footsteps. Darcy aimed her gun and the others followed her. The footsteps got closer.

“Jody?” asked Jimmy. “From the bank?”

Jody from the bank lurched forwards, reaching for her prey. Jimmy fired at her but missed and she jumped to the side.

“Don't waste ammo!” shouted Darcy. “You need a clean shot.”

The guard detail scattered as they tried to aim at the zombie without hitting each other. “Where'd she go?” shouted Art Robson.

“There!” shouted Darcy, elbowing Art out of the way and taking aim. She pulled the trigger, and without so much as a yelp, the zombie woman fell to the ground a few feet from them. “Make sure she's dead,” said Dale.

The group of guards gathered around and looked down. Jimmy cautiously rolled the zombie body over with his foot. The dangling arms had gone rigid and the eyes were vacant. “She's dead,” he said.

A terrible shout interrupted them. They all turned to look. Dirk had climbed up to get a better look at the engine, and he was now dangling from the bus's frame. He continued to scream as Bill continued to chomp on his outstretched leg.

Jimmy swore and led them in running towards the pair. He tackled zombie Bill and jumped up before he could be bitten too. Bill got up and lunged toward Art and then Darcy. A loud bang echoed and Bill fell to the ground. He continued to move in the grass, but his leg had taken the hit. Jimmy stood, smoke rising from his gun and tears in his eyes.

“Is he bitten?” Kenchy had come running out of the bus and was looking at Dirk, who had been helped down from the bus and was lying on the ground. A ragged bite mark was glistening on his leg.

“I'm bit! Oh my God, I'm bit!” Dirk shouted. “You have to help me. Please! Please, help!”

Everything was happening quickly. Darcy was backing up and holding her gun out in a defensive pose, while Jimmy was still holding his gun limply in his arms. Kenchy was frantically pulling things out of his medical kit. “Must be something,” he was muttering. “Freeze the area, slow it down, or administer a big hit of -”

“Everyone should get back!” Dale shouted. “Back on the bus.”

“I am trying to figure out how to help him, if you would just let me think!” Kenchy snapped.

“There's nothing you can do,” Darcy was saying in a gentler tone, patting Kenchy's shoulder while keeping her distance from Dirk, who was grasping the doctor's arms while still begging for his help.

“We said we only help the living,” said Dale.

“Well, this man is alive!” shouted Kenchy. “The disease hasn't spread yet, and there's got to be a way – yes!” he shouted. There was a strange and frightening new look in his eyes. “It'll just have to be removed.” He frantically began searching in his kit. “No other way. He'll have to lose the leg.”

“What?” Dirk squeaked. He was getting weaker, but the fear in his eyes sparked.

“I am sorry,” said Kenchy, ripping Dirk's pant leg and rolling it up. He pulled out the tool he'd been searching for. The moonlight gleamed off of the scalpel's blade.

“Don't do this, man,” Jimmy said quickly, reaching to intervene as everyone around them protested at once. Dirk's protests were getting feebler.

“I haven't been able to save any of them yet,” muttered Kenchy, wrenching his arm away from Art. “But this time I have the chance.”

“Stop!” shouted Darcy and Jimmy at once as Art spouted sentences about anaesthetic and contamination.

Kenchy raised his hand with the scalpel. Dirk's hand shot up and grabbed it, pulling Kenchy's wrist into his mouth and biting down hard. “No!” shouted Jimmy, and he and Darcy wrestled the new zombie away from the doctor. Kenchy stared down for a moment at his own arm as if he'd never seen it before. The mangled bite marks dripped.

Dirk had lost all of his speech and he groaned and growled as he tried to get up. Darcy delivered a blow to his head with the butt of her gun and he fell to the ground. “Back on the bus, now!” she shouted. Margaret opened the doors and the guards ran up the steps. Kenchy had gotten to his feet slower than the rest of them, and as he was about to board the bus, the doors swung shut in his face. He pounded on the door.

Everyone exchanged uncomfortable glances before Beck spoke. “We can't let you in, Kenchy. I'm sorry.”

“You can't leave me out here,” protested Kenchy, looking over at the snoring Dirk and Bill, who was now crawling towards him, swinging his arms along the grass.

“You'll...be okay,” said Beck, and everyone sent him looks at this obvious mislead. “I mean, they aren't going to hurt you.”

“What?” called Kenchy, his voice breaking.

Everyone else had turned away now, and Beck turned his back too, letting out a sigh. “How long was it?” he asked Darcy.

“Less than ten minutes,” she said.

No one on the bus could bear to say anything, but standing in silence as they heard Kenchy's pleas for mercy on the other side, and their gradual change to less and less coherent sounds, was torture.

When all they could hear on the other side was the familiar inhuman growl, they bowed their heads.

“I should've killed him,” said Jimmy in a shaky voice.

Darcy looked carefully at him. “No one was expecting you to do that,” she said quietly.

Jimmy shook his head, swiping at his face. “Bill. I should've killed him right away. I owed it to him.”

Margaret had come to stand beside him, and she wrapped his arm in both of hers.

“I shouldn't have let him go on like that,” continued Jimmy. “I didn't want him to be d-dead. But now I wish he could just be dead. Just be in peace. Instead of that.” He motioned towards the window. “It would've been kinder.”

Everyone was silent as Jimmy's words sunk in. Then, from the back of the bus, Chloe Walcott yelped.

“There are more of them!” shouted Maya Quinn, who was sitting near Chloe on the opposite side of the bus from where Kenchy was prowling.

Everyone ran to the windows on that side. Stepping out of the darkness in that familiar, hair-raising jerky motion, was a group of undead.

“How many?” shouted Jimmy.

“Ten – eleven,” counted Beck.

“More on this side!” called Art and several people ran across to the other side.

Dale watched silently. He could see one of his former employees, his former gym teacher, and an older boy who'd picked on him in the trailer park, before the town let it burn down. Others on the bus were shouting out the names of those they recognized. It was getting harder to recognize them, as they were starting to look more rotten, their clothes more covered in blood, their eyes and movements more feral. Chloe Walcott burst into tears and at least two people were muttering prayers.

“Everyone calm down,” said Beck. “We're going to stay on the bus, and they can't get us from here.”

A loud thud from the front of the bus startled everyone and made several people scream. Zombie Kenchy had thrown himself at the doors. The metal and glass separating them from the monsters outside groaned under the impact but didn't break.

“What you said before,” said Dale, glancing at Jimmy. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy picked up his rifle and went to crouch in front of the driver's seat.

“They're still coming!” shouted Margaret. The reports from either side of the bus were frantic. Jimmy's grip tightened.

Dale had momentarily found himself watching a small, hunched over zombie in a worn out, dragging sweater that was walking in a zig-zag pattern. Snapping out of the trance, he ran to the middle of the bus. “If they break down the door, I don't know if you'll be able to hold them off by shooting one at a time. And it'd be ridiculous to try to shoot them from in here.” He looked around at them. “I think we all know our choices. We have to get the bus started again, or we have to find a way to kill them all with the weapons we've got.”

“How're we going to fix the bus?” shouted Gary Walcott. “You saw what happened to Dirk.”

“There has to be someone here who's worked on a tractor,” said Dale. He looked at Beck. “Or a tank. Then all we'll need is a good, strong defence strategy.”

A few minutes later, a group of them stood, crowded in the front of the bus, taking deep breaths. “Remember everyone,” said Beck, looking at the survivors stationed towards the middle and back of the bus. “This is our fortress. We protect it first. No matter what's going on out there, nothing gets in.”

“You sure about this?” Jimmy asked Dale. Dale shrugged. “Not really.” He glanced back at Beck.

Beck counted down and shouted “Go!”

Chloe Walcott pulled the lever and the door slid open. Dale rushed forward, knocking the Kenchy zombie out of the doorway and to the ground. He leapt onto the grass, dodging between the outstretched zombie arms, hearing footsteps behind him as his teammates followed. Running nearly blindly, he turned and shot at the first zombie he could hit clearly. Dirk was hit in the head and went down for good. “Spread out!” he shouted to his colleagues. “We have to draw them out!”

He was aware of his teammates entering the fray on either side. He could hear Darcy shout and deliver a blow to some zombie's head. Art was swinging a field hockey stick on his other side, managing to knock down a flailing set of arms and legs while shouting insults. Joanne Iker was shouting loudly from somewhere farther away, and it seemed she was using words too, so she hadn't been zombified yet. It was unnerving to hear the others yelling, but essential. They each moved further out, bit by bit, pulling their deadly zombie-to-human combat into a wider circle around the bus.

Dale swung his own field hockey stick at the advancing zombie, whose jacket he recognized before he knew the bald head and beady eyes. “You!” he shouted, knowing no one would turn and probably no one would take note that he was now fighting Gray Anderson, the once mayor. He knocked Gray backwards, and the zombie-mayor stumbled but managed to keep his balance. He looked past Gray and saw the second team, the guards, advancing. Jimmy and Margaret and two others swung their weapons protectively, forming an inner circle around the front of the bus as Chloe and Gary continued to guard the door.

Gray lunged and Dale found himself falling under the weight of the zombie, but he wriggled and rolled away from the mayor, glancing through the darkness and the flurry. He could see Beck and Kent Foster, behind their guards, tinkering with the engine. He smiled for a moment before the hands gripping him roughly by the shoulders forced him to look up.

Allison was pulling him to his feet. He twisted, keeping out of range of her teeth as she leaned in for the kill. He reached for his gun but then swung his hockey stick instead. Their talk earlier echoed through his mind as his heart raced. Allison was barely recognizable as who she'd once been. The coolest girl in the border guard, he thought. But he still couldn't quite bring himself to shoot to kill. Instead, he kicked, tossing her off balance. He looked over at Darcy, who hadn't noticed. She was too busy wrestling a zombie with long, wavy blond hair. She threw the zombie backwards, and suddenly there was a clear line between Dale and his former teacher. Dale sighed. He aimed his gun, ready to take out Miss Sullivan, but his eye caught a movement closer. Jerry from the hardware store was lurching towards him. Making sure he wouldn't hit one of his own, Dale fired twice.

Screams were coming from Art and Joanne's direction, but Dale was busy fighting on his side and trying to draw the zombies out further. He backed up, feeling his feet leaving pavement and touching grass. Gray and Allison were both coming towards him now. Moaning behind him caught his attention and he whipped around.

Eric Green, his beard encrusted in zombie ooze, was right behind him. Dale smacked him hard in the face with the end of his hockey stick. Without turning to look, he slammed his weapon in the other direction and hit Gray in the side. The zombies lurched and stumbled and sometimes tried to grab at their injured bodies with flailing hands, but they never screamed. As a zombified and one-eyed Sean Henthorn emerged from the darkness, Dale slammed his head against the nearby tree. They bled too, Dale observed. But they only ever groaned in the same hollow tones.

It was hard to take any of the zombies out for good fighting this way, because they were all only using guns when they had safe shots. Dale was already outnumbered and the zombies kept coming. He ducked between Allison and Sean and went closer to the bus to look. Beck and Kent were still working. The guards were swinging weapons, wildly fighting off the attackers, but it seemed they'd already lost at least one of their own.

Dale found himself pushed from behind. The full weight of a body and clumsy but strong arms grabbing him pressed him down. He tried to pull himself up but he could see others coming towards him. Then the weight was suddenly lifted. He turned and saw Darcy pulling Allison off of him. Pushing her once-daughter down, she smashed Gray in the head before he could bite Dale. “Thanks,” was all Dale could get out, before turning to kick Sean as hard as he could.

Allison had gotten up again and was lunging at her mother. Dale glanced from her to the others, fighting and falling and doing their best. “Phase three!” he shouted.

Beck and Kent were clearly still working and hadn't heard him. Everyone else was too caught up in the fight to respond. Dale aimed a quick punch at a child zombie he refused to look closely at, and pulled out his lighter as he balanced his hockey stick. The end that had been soaked in chemicals earlier quickly caught fire. He swung the fiery torch at the zombies encircling him. They backed away, almost cautious, though they still had jerky movements and vacant stares.

Nearby, a zombie looking an awful lot like a J and R rep Dale had once argued with had grabbed Darcy's arm. He hastily held his torch to the zombie's back. The zombie's torn up jacket caught fire and the zombie jerked backwards, letting go of Darcy.

The flames spread and totally encircled the zombie, who moved desperately back and forth but couldn't stop the fire from consuming her. As the fiery zombie fell to the ground, a change seemed to rattle through the air. The zombies' faces showed no expression, but Dale sensed, somehow, that they had at last awakened something like fear in their enemies. He held his torch to Darcy's which lit as quickly as his had, and they passed on their fire to the other fighters. Soon, the survivors were swinging their fiery torches at the zombies, who stumbled into each other as they tried to get away. A few more were lit on fire and fell. Others stepped away from the fight. Jimmy and Margaret waved their guns, taking out some of the fleeing zombies as they got out of the proximity of the survivors. Beck slammed the hood into place. “Let's try this!” he shouted, barely heard over the roar of the fight.

When Chloe started the engine though, everyone turned to look. As if in slow motion, she backed the bus up a foot or two. “Retreat! Back on the bus!” shouted Beck, motioning to the bus and hoisting his own weapon to fend off some of the remaining zombies.

Dale had been advancing towards Gray and Eric with his torch. They were shrinking back, and his arm shook. He'd been determined, after Jimmy's speech earlier, not to leave any of the ones he knew alive. Well, still up and about, moving around, in this condition that wasn't quite living, but it was harder to light them on fire than it had been to imagine shooting them in mercy.

Someone yelped nearby. Art had fallen as he'd scrambled for the bus. Dale reached and pulled him to his feet. He looked back. Gray was gone and Eric was retreating around the side of the bus, the same way the other zombies were fleeing. Dale followed. Darcy was ahead of him. “Eric, Gray, Sean, they're getting away,” he muttered. He didn't mention Allison, but he was sure it was her purple hoodie he could see on one of the zombies stumbling away.

“I'll get them,” said Darcy. “You get everyone on the bus.” There was a fierce look in her eye. Dale nodded in understanding. He turned and ran towards the bus, tackling another zombie out of the way so Jimmy and Margaret could climb the steps. They were cheering in the bus and zombies on the ground outside still burned like bonfires. Dale stood in the doorway, waiting for Darcy. She came back around the side of the bus, fire in her eyes and business in her expression. They both climbed the steps and someone slammed the door after them. Chloe drove them down the road and they drove over a few zombies, it seemed, as the bus bumped a few times. Someone had been sick in a corner and they all agreed to be checked over by Lucy and Maya, the only clinic employees on board, in case anyone had sustained a bite. They'd left behind a few of their own, and left many of the zombies dead, but there was still a small triumphant feeling in the bus as they left behind the scene of carnage.

People began to breathe easier as they drove along the country road and the minutes passed. After ten minutes were up, there were sighs of relief, and then silence as the waiting started again.

Dale glanced a few times at Darcy. She was riding in a seat of her own, near the front, away from Margaret and Jimmy, who seemed to have decided to give her space. There was something dangerous in her face, and something resigned. Dale knew neither of them could speak of it, but he felt a weird understanding with her suddenly, more than he felt with anyone else in the bus.

They met no other zombies on the road to the old army camp, though an eerie fog began to roll in. It covered the ground and made everything seem more dangerous, but at the same time, after the fire and the up close and personal contact they'd made with the zombies, the fog left them feeling numb.

When they reached the deserted camp, they were careful to make sure there were no creatures already there to surprise them. It was ghostly quiet. Most of the tents were gone, but a temporary building still stood. The survivors secured their supplies and went inside.

Beck was hopeful at first when he found some old radio equipment, but Dale couldn't help but be skeptical. He didn't want to be right, but he suspected even the major wasn't as hopeful as he was pretending to be. Everyone gathered around when the radio was ready, and faces fell around the room as, no matter what Beck tried, the line remained static.

“Don't worry everyone,” said Beck. “If we can't do it from here, we'll keep going until we can make contact. And we can try a few more things, see if something else will get it to work.”

“You're not going to reach anyone with that thing,” said Darcy, walking back outside.

Beck looked down at the mess of wires, and back up. “Okay. We'll rest here for a bit and regroup. And then we'll keep heading north. We need guards and we'll sleep in shifts.”

The group started to set up camp for the second time that night. This time it seemed less hopeful, but also calmer. Some people still couldn't bring themselves to sleep, but many fell into exhausted trances. Dale suddenly realized he was also exhausted and let himself drift off.

His dreams were more fiery than usual, but otherwise the same. There was always a moving on in them, eventually. It was a comfort.

“Newcomers!”

He was groggy when he got woken up by the shouts.

“Human?”

“I think they're alive!”

“They look like hell.”

Lots of other people were disoriented but struggling to get up too. He stood and went outside to join the others in looking at the newcomers.

The early morning sun was just beginning to rise. It shone on the tired, dirty, and blood stained faces of the group of people who had just arrived on foot. Most were armed with hockey sticks and baseball bats, though a few carried hunting knives and there were a couple guns. Standing at the front of the group were Stanley, Mary, and Heather.

“Make sure they're not zombies!” shouted Art Robson from the doorway.

“We haven't seen zombies for over an hour,” said Mimi from behind Stanley.

“What are you doing here?” asked Darcy. 

“They overran us at the gym,” said Mary in a strange voice. “We retreated through the school.”

“I can't believe how many of them there were,” said Stanley. His voice had also changed. It sounded older. “The battle turned around when we got to the science lab and put together some weapons. Chemistry to the rescue.” He glanced at Heather, who wasn't making eye contact with him.

“What happened?” asked Dale. He noted Skylar, standing in the middle of the group. There were singes on her clothes but she looked very much alive.

“We burned it all down,” said Heather. She looked downwards at the blackened baseball bat she carried. The ends of it were coated in a sticky dark substance. She looked back at them. “We had to leave on foot.”

“We're here to join you,” said Stanley. “If you'll let us.”

Darcy nodded, and glanced back at Beck, Dale, and the Taylors. They nodded too. It wasn't really a question. Humans were humans now, whether or not they'd always taken the same position on zombie survival tactics. “You can set up in the building. We're camped out for now,” said Beck. Some of the weary walkers began to go inside. Their leaders still stood, looking back at Dale and his fellow crew members.

“We couldn't find any other survivors,” said Mimi.

No one spoke. Finally, Darcy said in a quieter voice, “We ran into Eric, Emily, and Gray. And a few others. They weren't...they were gone. I'm sorry.”

Mary met her eyes and nodded slightly, then looked down at the hunting knife she held in her hands. They seemed to be caked in blood.

Heather looked at her own blackened weapon, and back up. “We know. We ran into them too, about an hour ago.”

The others in her group looked at each other silently. Stanley spoke in a hollow sounding voice. “They won't be following us.”

The two groups stood, staring at each other. Bright rays of early morning sunlight lit their torn, blood soaked clothes and sooty, grimy skin. They'd never seen each other so clearly.

Beck turned to go back into the building, and motioned to the others. They began following. Most of Stanley's group were silent as they trudged inside. Dale offered take over the guard duty outside, and Gary Walcott was glad to go inside for a rest.

Not a very long time after, the newly reunited group gathered outside their temporary sanctuary, preparing themselves to begin the long trip ahead. Supplies were packed, weapons raised, and they began discussing safety strategies.

Dale was at the back of the group, and he noticed Jimmy and Margaret, standing apart from the others, talking to Darcy. They exchanged hugs with her, she hoisted her rifle, and she went to take up her position at the front of the group.

“Dale,” said Jimmy, noticing him. He glanced at Margaret, and back at Dale. They didn't seem about to take their place in the group.

“Leaving?” asked Dale.

“Yeah,” said Jimmy, shifting his weight slightly. “We've been thinking, and we just can't keep going further away, wondering if there's a chance our kids are okay and need us.”

Margaret put her hand on his arm. “Darcy's going to try to get us help. We'll look for Sam. If we make it, maybe there'll be hope for us.”

“But what if?” Dale felt suddenly too tired to ask the whole question. Jimmy understood though.

“We're prepared to do what we have to. We'll do whatever it takes,” he said. “It's what matters to us. Whether or not it makes us idiots.” He chuckled slightly.

Dale nodded slowly. Somehow, it made sense now. “No, I don't think so. I mean, I think I get it.” He reached out to shake Jimmy's hand, and then Margaret's. “Good luck.”

They set off, walking in the direction of Jericho.

“So cute. I really hope they don't get eaten.” He turned. Skylar was standing beside him, watching the retreating couple.

He smiled. The group started walking, and the two teenagers started to walk at the back of the crowd. “It was bad, back there?” he asked.

She looked straight ahead. “Everyone had to face their fears.”

He nodded. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “I'm not sure it matters. Where we are. Stay or go, home or away.”

He glanced sideways. “Then why'd you come?”

She shrugged. “Better than the alternative.” She glanced at him and there was a trace of her former smile.

They looked at each other for a moment and then both stared ahead, keeping vigilant for more signs of danger as their people walked forward.

 

 

 

 

 

“You look great!” said Emily as Heather turned to the side. “All firefighters should have cute red raincoats.”

“It was this or a ladybug, and I decided I wanted to be one of society's favourite heroes,” said Heather, tipping her borrowed plastic firefighter hat. “Here, complete your ensemble.” She tossed a white apron at Emily.

Emily put the apron over her head. “How'd you manage to keep it so white?”

“Didn't use it much,” said Heather with a laugh. She began to admire Emily's costume as her friend tied the apron behind her back.

“Wait,” said Emily, pulling on her chef's hat.

“Perfect!” pronounced Heather. “How'd you keep the hat so white?”

“Roger only went to one class and then burnt his hand,” said Emily with a smile. “Ready to go?”

Heather nodded. “Ready. Let's roll.”

As they walked towards Bailey's, waved to parents and children returning home, and talked about the details of their day, Emily found herself thinking back on the stories she'd read. Dale's had perhaps been the most surprising. He'd attached a note about his process. “I wanted to pick randomly who lived and died, since a zombie attack is probably a lot like life that way, so I pulled the names out of a hat. The characters' resemblance to real people becoming zombies should be considered coincidental.” Emily shivered slightly. It was silly, she supposed, to be surprised. She'd been the one to open the Pandora's box of whatever these kids were thinking and feeling. After everything they'd been through, who knew what was lurking around in there.

They turned onto Main Street and waved at a few of their friends in the distance who were also heading to the party. “Looks like half the town's coming out,” said Heather.

“Yeah,” said Emily with a faint smile. She was suddenly thinking back to the last story she'd read, as quickly as she could after finishing Dale's. The last one in the stack had been Skylar's.  

 

 

The Traveling Bridge

by Skylar Stevens

The girl had reached her destination, according to the sign sticking out of the ground. “Entering Jericho,” she whispered. She wasn't sure why she hadn't said it louder. There was no one around to hear her.

As far as she could see, the town stretching out ahead of her was a ghost town. There were no people, no signs of life, in amongst the shells of buildings she had once recognized. She pulled out the photo she had been carrying on her journey and stared at it for a few moments before stashing it in her backpack and going forward.

They had told her that this was what she would find, as she approached by bus and then on foot. “Long gone,” everyone had said, though no one could tell her what had happened, or how during the few months she'd been crossing state lines and searching for her lost parents, everything she'd left behind had been obliterated. “They pissed off the wrong people,” some had mused. “Same as everyone else – they ran out of supplies and patience,” a man selling corn at the side of the road had told her. Her heart had sunk but she had continued on, needing to see for herself if her home was really gone.

The place itself was the same, she decided, as she walked the empty streets. Here and there, she recognized a remnant of a wall, a coloured fence post, a dented mailbox. But there wasn't a trace of a man, woman, or child anywhere she looked. The quiet was eerie and nearly suffocating, and the light and shadows played tricks on her mind. In some places, she could nearly see them. That was where they'd eaten barbecued corn and burgers in the middle of a street with no traffic. That was where they'd rescued burning books and a few people trapped in the stacks. There was the place she'd been found so often herself, watching things unfold, making things happen, putting stuff on shelves and into people's hands, no matter what the cost. But now, it was empty. She wandered through blackened shelves and dusty aisles, and listened and listened but couldn't hear a sound.

Her tears were a slow rhythm as she searched the rest of the abandoned town. She came to the graveyard and touched familiar headstones, but they were all from people long gone. There was still no sign of the ones she'd expected to see again. She hadn't expected everything to be fine of course. It had been a long time since she'd ever had such a rosy view of things that she didn't see, with every departure and every goodbye, the potential for casualties and losses in the places she left behind. She had known she might not find what she was looking for when she'd gone out there but it was somewhat of a shock to have nothing to look for on her return.

She finally crossed the bridge and reached the field at the other side of town by the end of the day. Her shadow was long in the field and her steps were slow. She sat down in the grass, dropping her heavy pack beside her and stretching out her legs in front of her.

She would have to pick herself up, keep walking again, and keep searching for her next move. She had done it before, countless times, and she was sure she would gather up the strength to do it again. But for now, she wanted to sit still and spend one last night listening to her quiet home. She dug her hands into the soft grass and leaned back, staring up at the darkening sky, imagining it as it had once been, for this view was nearly the same, despite everything that had happened. She let out a deep sigh and tried to imagine, in the silence, the voices of those she'd loved and lost.

She could almost hear them. Faint whispers and laughter, and someone singing, moving along the breeze. She shivered and hugged her arms closer to her. She was used to ghosts, though, and kept staring at the stars in the sky. They were the most unchanging, she thought, but still they felt strange and unsettling when she stared at them from down here, each time everything around her changed. She looked back across the field, over the bridge, at the shadows of her old home. Dark buildings stood out, only faintly darker than the sky. Empty, but she could nearly feel a buzzing coming from them. Human minds were strange. They made sure you were never alone, even when you were clearly alone. Now, her mind was letting her hear whispers, and now, her mind let her catch a glimpse of movement in the field.

She blinked. Things were moving in the field. There were definite shadows dancing across it, sharper and more graceful than the crumbling buildings. She peered through the darkness, listening for something over the sound of her pounding heart.

Laughter again, but clear, and strange. It couldn't be, she knew instantly and completely, coming from her mind this time. She had learned in her travels that she shouldn't trust her senses, but something in her, the instinct she'd learned to trust more, was shouting at her to pay attention to the field. She slowly stood on shaking legs and walked carefully and quietly, making her way to the bridge and towards the field.

She crossed the bridge, feeling a jolting through her entire body, keeping her eyes on the figures in the field. As she came closer, she realized that they looked like children. Their voices sounded like children too. Loud children, fearlessly laughing and playing some kind of game. Not like the children she'd left behind months ago, the kind that hid behind their parents and were afraid to cry out loud as guns went off and soldiers kicked in doors. These ones looked similar enough though; their clothes were raggedy and badly fitting, she could see as she got closer. But their faces had breathless smiles and full cheeks. They raced and twirled in the darkness, laughing, following their own rules of the game.

She watched in silence, for a moment transported to a time she'd forgotten. She noticed rather suddenly that one pair of eyes was staring back at her. And then another. Slowly, they each stopped their game and stood, looking at her from their spot across the field. There were seven, no eight of them, she counted, and she couldn't see them well enough to recognize them as any children she'd seen in town before. Maybe they were the children of new refugees, hiding out in the abandoned town. They came together in a group, first walking slowly, then quickening their steps. None looked more than ten years old, but they didn't seem extremely afraid. Mostly curious as they looked at her. One girl with wild hair and a vaguely familiar expression said something to the others. They were all watching her, glancing at each other, watching again. Then, without warning, they took off running in the other direction.

The girl stared for a moment, reminded of the experience of walking up to a field where birds are resting, watching the scatter to the skies. She realized then what was happening. “Wait!” she shouted, almost surprised at the sound of her own voice. “Hey, wait!” She began running too.

They had a head start, but her legs were sturdy from months of walking. She followed the little apparitions, who shouted to each other now and then as they ran. Her ears were able to follow the child voices well enough, but her eyes seemed to be playing tricks. The retreating children were going towards buildings, but they weren't, she realized, the same buildings she'd searched today. These buildings were intact. They were familiar and strange at the same time. She followed the children along a path and onto a street. It was Jericho, at night. Jericho, before it was a ghost town. Or perhaps it was a ghost town, all the same, she thought, as the strangely familiar kids scampered ahead of her.

She came close enough to catch their expressions as they glanced over their shoulders. One little boy's eyes widened as he took in the incoming girl, and one of his companions urged him to keep running. The library steps were on her right. This was Main Street. “Incoming!” one of the young girls shouted. They passed the hardware store. She had to speed up to match them as they seemed to be approaching home free.

“Whoa there,” a man leaning against the side of the old Cyberjolt stood, coming towards them. “Hey, it's you!” he exclaimed as he came right up to her. With the presence of an adult, the children slowed their steps, and now stood, clustered around him, some of them leaning their hands on their knees as they caught their breath, all staring at her in awe.

It took her a moment to recognize the man, because he stood in a different way, his clothes were different, and the stack of paper he clutched under his arm was odd. “Gray Anderson?” she asked. “I – um, Mayor Anderson?”

He reached for her hand and held it in both of his. “I'm glad you're back,” he said, grinning. The children seemed to take this as further confirmation that the threat was averted, and now some were stepping back, whispering amongst themselves, while some still watched the exchange between mayor and newcomer with rapt attention.

She glanced around. “What is this place? I mean, things seem different. What happened?”

He chuckled. She noticed vaguely that he was pulling out a piece of paper and he had a pencil in his hand. “Can I draw you? I have to draw you. I draw everyone, eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. She looked around again. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the children had circled around a man who was lifting them up in the air, tousling their hair, and laughing even louder than them. She looked back to Gray, who was already sketching with his pencil. “Why are you doing that?”

He gave a good natured shrug, peering closer at her face and looking down at his page. “I show people what they want, with my painting. I start by doing some drawings to really get the essence of the person, and eventually, I put it on a canvas.” He smiled. “My technique is really nothing to brag about, but in the end I always help them find out exactly what they want. You see, that was my wish.”

“Your wish?” she repeated, looking over at the children still gathered around the man. Suddenly, something clicked into place, even though he had a completely different posture and expression than she remembered. “Is that Jake?” she asked. “Jake Green?”

Gray nodded. “That's Good Uncle Jake, to be specific.”

She stared as Jake swung a little boy into the air. “Good what now?”

“He's also Good Son Jake and Good Brother Jake, but since he's only around the nieces and nephews right now,” shrugged Gray. “Being a good uncle is his main objective.”

“Um, okay,” she said carefully. “Doesn't he miss being the town hero and going off to save the world and stuff?”

“Not Good Uncle Jake,” said Gray. “But the others spend all their time doing that. Town Hero Jake is usually found wherever there's a crisis. Getting cats out of trees and breaking up fights in the ration line. World Saving Jake is somewhere out there.” He gestured in the direction from which she had come. “Haven't seen him in a long time but I guess he's probably saving the world.”

She wrinkled her forehead as she watched Jake balancing between two little girls who were tugging on either of his arms. “Any other Jakes running around?”

“Well, Angst Jake isn't usually running. He spends most of his time hanging out in Archie's backyard. You know the well he had out there? It's full of beer now.” Gray grinned again. “It didn't take long to paint him. He knew what he wanted right away.”

“Huh,” she said, folding her arms and watching the kids playing with the silliest sheriff she'd ever seen – though she wondered if this Jake was still the sheriff, considering there was another one running around saving cats. A new sound began traveling across Main Street. She looked towards Spruce Lane. It was music and it seemed to be coming from the bar, which was faintly lit. She looked back at the people on the street, who didn't seem to notice. She gasped as she noticed another figure approaching the kids and sheriff. The children greeted his arrival with enthusiasm, running to grab his arms too. A little girl with dark pigtails giggled as she touched his arm and her pigtails stood up on end. The curly haired boy did the same, and his hair also stood on end. This wasn't as disturbing though, as the realization that she recognized him too. His hair was much shaggier (and it stood out on all sides), he had a scruffier jawline, and he seemed to be taller, but she was certain it was Sean.

“Rock on, little dudes!” he was saying, picking up one of the smallest kids. Her sandy hair puffed around her head like a troll doll.

“No,” she said, partly to herself. “How is Sean – how is he so different?” It wasn't like seeing Gray turned starving artist or Jake with multiple personalities or body doubles, or even the familiar children she'd never seen before. Sean looked older than her, a lot older than a few months. They were supposed to be the same age. He'd broken her Pocahontas lunch box in first grade. “Those aren't his kids, are they?”

Gray shook his head. “He just helps out.”

Older, weirder Sean seemed to have noticed her. “Whoa, it's you!” he said. The children were chattering excitedly. He stepped over, holding out his hands, as if going in for a hug. A spark of blue light shot between his arms, and she jumped back. “Oh, it's okay. I won't shock you,” he said with a chuckle. “Wow, you haven't changed a bit!”

She was speechless, but Gray nodded encouragingly. “You look – well, different,” she said. He chuckled again. “Well, it's good to see you back. If you'll excuse me, I've gotta get the bambinos back to the farm. You guys want to hear about your mom's trip to Venice don't you?”

Several of the children cheered. He scooped one of them onto his shoulders and took two others by the hand. All of them grinned as they crackled with electricity. “See you around!” he said, and began leading them away. Only two children remained, standing on either side of Jake.

“So what happened?” she asked, watching the odd group walking away. “Did he get hit by lightning and age a few years or something?”

Gray chuckled. “His wish!” Her eyebrows raised again. “He saves the day whenever we're nearly out of power. Gives things a jump start. If the generators are down, sometimes he keeps the machines going at the med centre. And of course, it's fun at parties.”

“Of course,” she said. Gray smiled and turned back to his drawing paper. She noticed again the music, which seemed to be building to a crescendo, coming from the bar. Vaguely familiar voices soared over the triumphant chords.

“Is there a party or something?” she asked.

Jake shook his head. “Bailey's was closed today. A tree went through the back wall last night so they had to fix it. I helped them out in the morning but then my mom needed me to find something in the basement later. I guess they're done fixing it though.”

“How do you know they're done?” she asked, but as she spoke the front door of Bailey's flung open. Eric Green and Mary Bailey stood in the doorway, looking a bit different but mostly the same, except for the strange light that seemed to be shining on their heads and the way they were holding their hands out to the side, as if presenting prizes on a game show.

“You fixed it all?” asked Jake, running up to the bar and pulling the hands of the children with him.

“There was a bit of a dramatic ballad earlier when I got bogged down thinking about how bad luck seems to hit us every few weeks,” said Eric.

“But then we harmonized about all the times we've pulled through it, and we got to work, and we were just into a sort of retro duet about new paint when you got here,” said Mary with a shrug.

The young woman glanced at Gray. “Did they make some kind of a – a wish?”

“Their life is a musical,” nodded Gray. “Sometimes they cover pop standards but a lot of the time they do original pieces to suit the occasion.” She couldn't say anything. “It's pretty entertaining,” he said with a chuckle.

“Look, look!” the little girl from earlier was tugging on Eric's hand, and pointing towards her. “Look who's here!”

Eric, Mary, the children and Jake all looked at her. “It's you!” exclaimed Eric.

“Welcome back!” smiled Mary. “We haven't seen you in ages!”

They glanced at each other. A tinkly opening chord came from somewhere in the night. Eric began to sing. “Everything you left is so different now,” A guitar seemed to have joined the mix.

“You've got questions, like why? And how?” chimed in Mary.

She could only stare as they continued to sing, the two children and Jake taking on additional harmonies. It seemed as though they didn't really know a lot of the answers to their own questions, though the refrain of the song kept promising things would be better now that she was home. Gray just smiled and continued to sketch. She was certain if he finished her portrait, she would look as though her eyes were popping out of her skull.

“You'll stay with us, won't you?” Mary asked, after the final refrain had come to a close. “Your first night back, you shouldn't be alone. There's things you'll need to adjust to. We'll explain things. Well, we'll try.”

She wanted to hesitate. She was certain there were other things she needed to do, and she wasn't sure how many more key changes she could endure. “Our old business partner,” said Eric, taking her hand in his. “It's the least we can do to look out for you.”

She started to protest, but Gray cleared his throat. “That would be a good idea.” He leaned in and spoke softly. “You wouldn't want to be wandering around at night by yourself. Not until you know more about things. They can help you out.”

She surprised herself by asking “What about you?”

“I've got to get back to the studio,” he said. “Get started on prepping a canvas for you. I'll see you again soon.” He flipped over the cover of his sketchbook before she could see what he'd been drawing.

“I've got to go too,” said Jake, giving his brother and sister-in-law hugs and kissing the children's heads. “I have a Parcheesi date with Mom.”

“Give her our love,” said Eric.

“And we'll see her tomorrow,” added Mary.

“She says dinner's a surprise, but expect something magnifique,” said Jake.

“Coq au vin?” asked one of the kids.

“Oh, or beef Bourguignon?” asked Eric.

“Surprise,” reminded Jake.

She glanced at Gray. “Oh, she can make anything out of rice,” said Gray. “Or at least, make the rice taste like anything. Usually French or Italian.”

“It's pretty cool. I'm sure you're welcome to come along to dinner. She loves to show off and share her creations,” said Jake. “But I've got to go. Goodnight everyone.” Gray exchanged a quick goodnight with the group too.

She watched the two men part ways and disappear into the night. The street was now empty, but for a second she thought she could hear an eerie sound. Maybe it was a weird echo of the singing, but it sounded more like someone crying. A hand reached for hers. The little boy was smiling up at her. Eric was looking at her, and he followed her gaze out to the empty street. “Come on inside,” he said, with a careful smile. “You can have Molly's room tonight.”

She followed the musical Greens warily up the stairs to their apartment. She was so full of questions she couldn't pick one to start, but they provided some answers without prodding. Unfortunately, each answer seemed to suggest a new question.

“It's been a while, hasn't it? Lucky you found us tonight. We move around a fair bit,” Mary said as she tossed a sheet in the air. “Never far, of course, but whenever we've gone out, we've had to be careful when looking for the way back in.”

“We can't go far. Only enough to meet our contacts. It's a huge mind warp every time though,” said Eric, helping her to fit the sheet onto the bed. “We lose time, even if it's only a few hours. It can be a lot more though.” He glanced at Mary and a small, sad look passed between them. Their guest looked at the ceiling and thought a silent thank you when no violins started to play. “Danny caught the chicken pox, recovered from them, and passed them onto Molly the last time I did a supply pickup,” he added.

“Why?” she asked, staring at the faded Finding Nemo sheets. “Why is all of this happening?”

“We don't know,” said Eric. “We just figured out some of the rules, sometimes the hard way. We're still learning more, but we're being careful.”

“How long have you been gone?” asked Mary, pausing in her straightening a blanket to peer at her. “You don't look a day older, from that day we last saw you. How long were you traveling?”

“Five months,” she answered, thinking back for a second to make sure. It'd been clear as anything this morning, but with old Sean and weird Gray, all the Jakes and Eric and Mary musically bantering back and forth with bantering children, she was getting disoriented. “I left to look for my parents in the spring, and it's just getting into fall now.” She paused as the girl child handed her a worn stuffed cat. “How long has it been here, since I left?”

The adults glanced at each other. “We don't know how old we are anymore,” said Eric. “They're six.”

She looked down at the cat, no doubt owned by generations if its frayed ears were any indication. She clutched it tighter as she asked the question. “How about him?”

Mary sat down so that she could face her. “He isn't here right now. He went to find you, a while ago.” She reached out to touch the young guest's arm. “But that doesn't mean -”

“We can talk about what it means later,” the guest interrupted. “We can talk in the morning.” She couldn't know any more tonight. It was too tiring, it was too weird, and she hoped if she went to bed soon she'd be spared any good night serenades.

Her hosts glanced at each other once more and nodded, handing her an extra blanket, rounding up the kids, and leaving the room. She made sure the door was shut, climbed into the bed, and pulled a pillow over her head for good measure.

She slept restlessly in the borrowed bed, though it was far more comfortable than some of the places she'd sheltered on the road. Her dreams were confused, with storms of coloured paint rain, electrical cyclones, and out of tune pianos that seemed to call her name. She followed a faceless figure through crowded streets where people shouted but she couldn't see their bodies.

The next morning she joined the musical Greens for breakfast, horrifying herself when her own request for their daughter to pass the salt became a melodic line that gave way to a lulling early morning song. She was glad when it finished and she was able to thank them for their hospitality and accept their offer to accompany Eric as he walked the kids to school. As they stepped out into the morning sun, she was saved from further musical styling with the arrival of Gray. He was still carrying the sketch pad and now he had a back pack she suspected was full of more art supplies.

“Morning!” he said, waving cheerily, though he had a more serious look as he glanced over at Eric. “There's been a development. The town wants another vote. Tonight.”

Eric looked thoughtful for a moment, glanced down at his son and daughter, who were peering curiously at Gray, and nodded. Gray turned back to her. “There is something I want to show you. Will you accompany me?”

Any other time and place it would be too weird, but since she'd already passed too weird a few musical numbers ago, she just nodded. After bidding farewell and adieu to Eric and the twins, they began walking in a different direction. “So what do you want to show me?” she asked.

He looked ahead as they walked. “The town.” She raised her eyebrows. “You should see what we've become while you've been gone. So you know all the facts, when it's time for you to decide.” He looked down at his sketchbook.

“Right. I get a wish, don't I?” she asked. He nodded. She let herself smile a little bit. Last night it had been too confusing, exhausting, and overwhelming to really contemplate, and she'd missed the people she hadn't found too much. She hadn't stopped to consider what the possibilities were in a place where suddenly wishes could come true. “What's the deal with the wishes I've seen happening so far?” she asked. “Musicals, multiple personality disorders, and static shock? I would never waste a wish on something so...”

“Wishes are strange,” said the mayor with a shrug. “They don't come about after making pro and con lists and people don't just say them out loud. When I realized I wanted to help people get what they wanted, I thought it was going to happen in some other way. Never thought it'd involve paintbrushes. I just felt it, somehow, and this is how it came out. That's the thing. We feel them, we don't think them, and we don't always know how they're going to play out.”

She frowned. Somehow this sounded less enticing than it had a minute ago. She stared at the bright green grass as they began to cross Lawrence Park. “Of course, we've figured out some of the rules,” he added. “The old standards, really. No one's made anyone fall in love. You can't make someone from out there magically appear here,” he added before she could ask. “We can make stuff out of things we already have, but we can't make everything we want appear out of nowhere. We've still got to find ways to get food and medicine. And don't even think of wishing for someone to come back from the dead.”

“Doesn't work, gotcha,” she said.

“Doesn't work out very well,” he said. “Dr. Dhuwalia wished he hadn't lost his patients. Now, they never leave him alone. They're around him all the time and nobody else can see them. He has whole conversations with them. Makes him look like a bit of a nut, I'm afraid.”

She shivered. She had, she thought to herself, imagined this particular wish a few times, but she'd never thought of a reality playing out where she was caught between worlds, living and dead. She was about to ask another question when a strange series of shadows on the lawn caught her eye. She glanced upwards and gasped. There were large creatures circling in the sky, their huge wings flapping eerily quietly. She blinked. They were horses. Ordinary looking horses, same as the ones she'd grown up riding, except for the delicate, scaly wings. And the riders, seated on their backs, carefully avoided the wings like this was an ordinary way to travel. The horse and rider who were clearly the leaders circled in for a landing, with the others following. As the leader climbed off her horse, the young woman gasped again. Her blond hair was shorter and it danced freely in the wind, but her smile was the same. “Miss Sullivan?”

Emily Sullivan smiled as she walked up to the newcomer. “I heard you were back!” She leaned in to hug her. “And you can call me Emily now, seeing as it's been how many years since you've been out of school now?” She leaned back, looking the newcomer up and down. “Well, you don't really look it, but time away is time away, isn't it?” She chuckled and then looked at Gray, her expression turning serious. “So I guess we'll be voting again?”

He nodded. She sighed.

“What's the vote?” asked Emily's former student. “What does it have to do with me?”

Emily glanced in surprise at Gray. “We're getting to it,” said Gray. He turned to her. “A few times, the question has come up about whether, well, whether there should be a bridge anymore. Whether people should be able to get into our town.”

“But – I wouldn't be here,” she began.

“It's because you're here they're thinking about it again,” said Emily, a grim look on her face. “We've got a list of people who left before the wishes started. We wait for them to come back, and it's because of you, waiting for the rest of you, we've been able to convince the town the bridge should stay open. But each one that comes back, each time, we raise the question again. You're one of the last.”

“I'm not the last though,” she said.

“No,” Emily shook her head. “But it hasn't been only friends. Sometimes it's been strangers, enemies.”

“People get scared,” said Gray.

Emily sighed. “It's not like we're sitting ducks here. We can fly. We can see pretty much any threat headed our way.”

“Is that what they're for?” the newcomer cut in. “Defence?”

“Not really,” Emily chuckled, reaching to pat the side of her horse's face. “We do all kinds of chores. Pick apples, hard to reach building repairs, quick emergency transport. But it's really about the feeling we get. When you're soaring, through pure air.” She took a moment to lean her head back and sigh contentedly. “Nothing's so good.” She looked appraisingly at the newcomer. “Do you want to give it a try?” She motioned towards some of the horses in the flock that were riderless. “They're really gentle. My senior classes have helped me train the flock over the years.”

The girl surveyed them, and the unfamiliar high schoolers tending to them that she supposed she would recognize as once annoying middle schoolers, if she looked carefully. It had been a while since she'd ridden a horse, but she'd loved learning as a child. She glanced at Gray. He raised his eyebrows. “Good way to see the town,” he said.

It was a thrilling way to see the town. The wind tossed her hair as she held on, soaring over hills and tree tops in the cold air. She could only wonder at the green fields and wild flowers she saw dotting the landscape. It was hard to believe it had been fall where she'd been walking just yesterday, and yet she remembered the dead leaves crunching under her feet while she walked home. This place. This strange place. They passed over someone doing yard work with arms that stretched across the yard. They passed someone conversing with thin air, that she vaguely recognized from far away as Dr. Dhuwalia. As they neared a field on the south edge of town, a sudden noise startled the horses. She looked around for the source of the gunshot while trying to keep a hold on her frightened horse. Around her, others were doing the same. Emily groaned. “It's them again. Haven't they been warned?”

Gray sighed. “I'll put a stop to it.” He motioned to his tour goer. “You'll want to see this for yourself too.” They alighted safely in a nearby meadow and she said goodbye to her former teacher and the others, who quickly flew off in the opposite direction.

Gray began walking, shouting out “Jimmy, Bill! It's me. I'm coming over. Don't do anything stupid.”

“We're not!” came a voice. The young woman followed the artist-mayor across the field and saw the two deputies out in the open. Bill was raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture. Jimmy was seated on the ground with his legs crossed, his eyes closed.

“Gray, we checked. No one was around,” said Bill. “Nothing is going on. We haven't done it in so long!”

Bill looked as though he was expecting further trouble on the subject but Gray instead gestured to her. “Look who's back!”

“We heard. Well, saw,” said Bill, motioning to Jimmy who was still sitting lotus-style. “Well, you look as tiny as you were back when you left. What was that, five, six, seven years ago? We must look so old.”

“No, not really,” she said, distractedly watching Jimmy, who still had his eyes closed.

“Town must seem pretty different,” said Bill.

She nodded. “I can't say it's...what I was expecting.”

Bill looked to Gray. “A lot of people are talking about the vote.” Gray glanced toward Jimmy and back at Bill. “What way are they leaning?”

“Too hard to tell,” said Jimmy for the first time. His eyes were still closed as he talked. “Too much conflict. People look upset.” He opened his eyes and scanned the countryside. She shivered. It was like he was looking past them, or even through them. “Also, Olsen's cows have locked him out of the house again.”

Gray chuckled. “I'll send someone to help him, in a bit.”

Jimmy looked at her. “So how are things going, for you? Enjoying the sights?”

She shrugged. “Seen some weird things. So what happened to you guys? You got some kind of x-ray vision?”

“Kind of,” said Jimmy, with a somewhat embarrassed look on his face. “I wanted to see what was going on. Be able to see everything. Not like I wanted to...spy on anyone or anything. It was more like a protecting people thing. It's taken a lot to get used to. To not see everything, all at once. I meditate a lot.”

Bill was chuckling through this. She was struck with a horrifying thought. “Can you see everything too?”

He shook his head and grinned again. “No. But you'll want to see what I can do.” He raised his eyebrows at Gray. Gray reluctantly nodded. “It's worth catching the show, at least once.”

She watched in confusion as Bill backed up a few feet, Jimmy drew his gun and pointed it at him, and pulled the trigger. She couldn't help a small squeak from escaping her mouth. She gasped as a completely unharmed Bill rooted around on the ground and a few seconds later, came over to them, holding up a bullet. “So you're what, like a superhero now?” she asked.

“Well, it's only one of Superman's powers, but it's a pretty good one,” said Bill. “I'm the first line of defences if we get attacked.”

“Not that that happens all too often,” said Jimmy. “Barely anyone ever finds us. When they do, I see them coming.”

“Yeah, not much need for these,” said Bill, turning over the bullet in his hand.

“Still, we're not supposed to waste 'em,” said Jimmy. “Heather'll tell you – speaking of which.” He was looking to their right. “She'll be by in a few minutes.”

She looked in the direction he was looking. She could hear a faint, strange sound. It was like a low, mechanical humming. As it grew louder, she noticed the grasses parting, like waves in a gentle sea. Then there was a stranger sight. It looked like something out of a science fiction magazine. A round metal platform was hovering a few feet in the air. Passengers stood on it, holding onto railings that encircled it. Short passengers, she realized. The tallest one stood at the front, piloting the strange vehicle, pointing to things on either side. As they approached, the young woman recognized the pilot.

“Once you've collected your plant sample, remember, we'll be looking them up in the library and identifying them,” Heather Lisinski was saying. “Everyone say hi to Mayor Anderson and the deputies.”

The children waved as the craft approached. “Oh, I heard you were back,” said Heather. “Welcome home! I hope that things aren't too strange for you.”

“They're strange enough,” the young woman shrugged, watching as the teacher fiddled with the controls of the hovering vehicle so that it stopped going forward and hovered in place. She noticed that in the centre of the craft, there was an arrangement of children's desks. “Deputy Kohler was just showing me his new trick.”

Bill bounded forward eagerly, handing the bullet to Heather, who deposited it in a shoulder bag. “You know, maybe the kids would like to see it. Wouldn't you guys like to see me catch a bullet?”

Heather gave him a warning look. It seemed they'd had this conversation before. Bill protested. “Come on, you can make metal into anything in that shop of yours. Even if we lose the bullets, you can make more!”

“I can't make more gunpowder,” she said. “Someone has to go on a supply run for it. And if you make Mary miss another Christmas and New Years because you've been putting on too many bullet catching shows, I won't be responsible for the fallout. Spencer, don't lean so far over!” She waved a hand at one of her students. The little girl jumped back. She chuckled, turning back. “We've been through hover-classroom safety a few times this year but sometimes curiosity gets the better of them. It's why we fly low.”

“This is your classroom?” asked the young woman.

Heather nodded. “There's a roof that comes up in bad weather and even walls when we need to keep the heat in. But this time of year, I feel like everyone is more energized when we're surrounded by nature. So I just made sure to put in safety features.”

“You made this?”

Heather nodded. “Well, since the town...happened, I've been able to do pretty much anything with metal.”

“Except get someone to fall in love,” interrupted Bill.

“Yeah,” said Heather with a laugh. “We're riding out towards the Richmond farm. They've got some excellent aquatic plant specimens growing around their pond. Do you want to come along?”

Soon, she was gripping the railings of the hover-classroom, watching the scenery go by. It was much slower than the winged-horse ride had been, more like the boat trip she'd taken with her parents the year they'd visited her aunt in Florida. Instead of impossibly blue water, she watched grass sway beneath them and instead of fish and birds, there were townspeople, and as they approached the Richmond ranch, cows. Around her, the children were waving at the animals. One of the cows stood up on its hind legs and waved.

She did a double take. The children were giggling. Heather was smiling like it was a normal occurrence. But it couldn't have happened.

As they neared the barn, a rooster flapped by, letting out a strange sounding squawk. She turned to the school teacher. “Did that rooster just say hello?”

Heather nodded. “He likes to greet people when they arrive.” She turned to the kids. “Everybody stay put. We're not playing in the barn today, we've got a job to do out at the pond.” Sounds of disappointment echoed through the ranks, and it seemed more animals were gathering on the lawn, some waving their greetings. Two horses, a trio of geese, and an eager piglet seemed to be smiling at them. A pair of little girls with bare feet and braids flying behind them joined them, peering up at the hover-classroom. Looks of surprise on their faces turned to smiles and they ran back the way they came. They were soon back, dragging Stanley Richmond along behind them. “It's her!” they were shouting. “We told you we saw someone new last night!”

Stanley waved a greeting to Heather, and then noticed the newcomer. “Yes, I see her,” he said to the girls. “Welcome back! Would you like a tour of the farm?”

She hesitated. They'd been on okay terms when she'd left, months ago for her and years ago for him, but things had been weird not long before that. Still, she was curious as ever about the weird way the animals were behaving. “We'll just be over at the pond,” said Heather, more for her benefit it seemed than Stanley's, as he gave a nod as if this were a common happening.

Stanley made a welcoming gesture, and she followed him across the lawn, trailed by the little girls, the piglet, and a floppy eared dog. “Would you like anything?” he asked. “The girls and I were just going to have some cucumber sandwiches.”

“No thank – maybe some water, would be great,” she said.

“We'll get it!” said the little girl with the sandy hair. Her sister nodded and they raced over to the house, with the dog running between them, shouting “Will help!”

He looked at her reaction. He seemed somewhat amused himself. “Must feel kind of like Alice.”

“What?” she asked. She had noticed a team of horses, a goat, and a pig that seemed to be fixing a fence.

“You know, after she falls down the rabbit hole and everything seems like the world's worst acid trip,” said Stanley. “It's the kids' favourite book.”

“Not surprising,” she smirked. “So what, all your animals turned into fairy tale creatures or something?”

He smiled, but his eyes were more serious now. “I just wanted family.”

They were walking around the side of the house. There was a table set up in the back, upon which several pages of crayon drawings were flapping in the gentle breeze. A small boy looked at them over the side of a playpen set up in the shade. Nearby, a woman was dozing in a hammock. Stanley picked up the boy and sat in one of the chairs, motioning to another nearby. Before she could step towards it, a pair of sheep were pushing it towards her.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting down somewhat awkwardly.

“So,” he said. “Gray started painting you yet?”

She shrugged. “He's doing some sketches.”

He smiled, bouncing his son on his knee. “Wait'll you get your wish. It's an exciting day.” He glanced over at the sleeping woman. “Mimi didn't get hers right away. It was a few months. She woke up one day and said she knew. Gray was on our doorstep in an hour, with his painting. But me, I knew right away.”

She looked over at the woman in the hammock. “What was her wish? Unlimited relaxation time?”

He laughed. “Not really. She has the least restful sleep of anyone. She travels the world when she dozes off here.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“She can go anywhere,” he said. “Part of her anyway. Part of her's always here of course. But she can see anything she wants. The view from the Eiffel tower. The Sahara desert. Today she's visiting the pyramids in Egypt.”

“How...nice,” she said, though she looked thoughtful as she sat back in her chair.

The little girls and the puppy came out of the house, triumphantly balancing the big glass of water with a plate of sandwiches. Stanley passed the sandwiches around and Mimi, who had newly woken up, joined them, telling them all about the sphinx.

“Do you miss it?” she asked suddenly. Mimi raised her eyebrows. “Being here, I mean. When you're out there, in the world?”

Mimi shook her head. “I'm here for everything important. And maybe one day, my kids'll see what's out there too.”

“The vote...” she trailed off. The Richmonds and their animals all stared at her. “Are you worried about what will happen, if people vote to close off the town? What if they want to leave?”

Mimi stiffened slightly. Stanley looked out across the field. “Looks like school's out,” he mused. The hover-classroom was heading back in their direction. It stopped at the end of the lane, and one student climbed off and began walking towards them. “There's Bianca. Other kids should be home soon too.” He looked over at her. “We're going to play baseball, and you're welcome to join a team, but if you were thinking of seeing the rest of the town you might wanna see if you can hitch a ride.”

She nodded, thanked them quickly, assured them she would see them at the meeting that night, and ran towards the hover-classroom. Heather quickly agreed to take her back to town. Along the way, they stopped a few times to let off students who lived along their route.

“The voting thing,” she said quietly as she stood beside the teacher. “Have they done that lots of times before? It seems like everyone knows what to expect.”

Heather nodded, making sure a young boy didn't forget his backpack as he stepped down from the craft. “Usually whenever someone finds us, from outside. We decide again whether or not we want people to be able to.”

“Do people keep changing their minds?” she asked.

Heather smirked. “Well, the people who want to keep it open have won every time so far, but the people who want to keep the outsiders from getting in are never happy about it. They're afraid, you see.”

She gripped the railing and shook her head slowly. “I know. But I wouldn't be here if it weren't for -”

“Yeah, but not everyone who comes through is a long lost citizen,” said Heather. “And then there are other things...” Her expression seemed darker.

The young woman stared at the buildings of the town as they grew closer. She couldn't imagine giving up, no matter what she was afraid of out there. Suddenly she knew where she wanted to go next. She turned to Heather. “I'm supposed to meet Gray, but would you mind dropping me off somewhere else? There's something I want to do first.”

Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the store.

She hugged her arms around herself as she stared at it. It looked so much the same, and so different. Those months she'd been away, she'd imagined him going on supply runs, meeting with the business owners, restocking his shelves and commanding deals with customers. What had really happened? Someone had painted the store's outside a bright shade of yellow, but without him running out to greet her, it seemed less friendly. She took a breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was like before and also not like she'd ever seen it. There were firewood piles and food signs, but other odd knick knacks they'd never sold and a big pyramid of brightly coloured wool. A young woman was standing behind the counter, but she came over to greet her.

“I heard you were back! You might not remember me -”

“Allison!” she said, in a somewhat surprised tone. “Allison Hawkins. You look – well, mostly the same.”

Allison smiled. When the newcomer had last seen her, Allison had been a bit shorter than her. Now, she was a bit taller. Her hair was longer, half tied back, and her face looked a bit thinner, less like a kid than she had before. Her smile was different too. She seemed completely confident and at ease. “So do you work here now?” asked the one time store clerk.

Allison laughed and nodded. “This is my day job. I also teach a dance class at the school on Thursday nights.”

The woman, who felt strangely young standing next to her one-time peer, smiled awkwardly. Allison raised her eyebrows. “Is this too weird? It must be a shock, being back and all. Feel free to look around and ask any questions.”

The young woman nodded, and stepped forward to touch the counter. This is where he had worked, where they had both worked so hard on their business those months so long ago in this world. It seemed strange now, remembering how proud she had been of all of their stuff. How rightfully it had all belonged to them and filled up the place, specifically marking it as theirs. So many strange and unfamiliar things filled the shelves now. She reached to run her hand over one of the brightly coloured balls of yarn. From behind her, she heard Allison say, “You should see the sheep that came from. All the Lawsons' sheep are day glow colours. They're not sure whose wish that was. My money's on Sally Taylor.”

“Wish,” whispered the young woman, replacing the hot pink yarn in the pile with the others.

“Oh, that'll be Jeremy,” said Allison. A man who looked similar in age to Allison, though seemed much too old for her at first to the still-adjusting newcomer, had arrived at the doorway. She realized, as he came into the store, kissed Allison in greeting, and waved over at her, that he'd been in their class at school too. “Ready to head to your mom's?” he asked.

Allison nodded. She looked over at the visitor. “My mom's having us over for dinner. I'm sure she'd be okay with adding another, if you'd like to come.”

She considered for a moment but shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I have to meet Gray.”

“Okay,” nodded Allison. “We can meet tomorrow and talk about what you want to do. The store's being run by the town, sort of like a co-op, but it really is yours.”

She nodded, lost in thought as Allison put away her work and gathered her things. She stared at the yarn again, and then she turned. “Allison?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you wish for?” she asked. She glanced around the store. Allison seemed to catch her eye as she surveyed the kingdom that had once been hers, but she smiled. “Ice skates.”

“Sorry?”

“I have a great pair of ice skates. In the winter, I go skating on the river. I love it.” Allison smiled, exchanged goodbyes, and when they were outside, locked up. Her one-time peer watched as she walked away, hand in hand with Jeremy. They seemed more at ease than a lot of the people she'd met over the past day, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something dangerous in making these wishes.

She began making the trek to Gray Anderson's house. She'd seen it from the outside a few times before. It was close to the house she'd grown up in – only a few streets away. As she walked, a motorcycle pulled up beside her. “Hey!” called a voice. She turned.

“Oh, hi Marcus,” she said. Her former classmate, like the others, looked like he'd lapped her by a few years. His hair was shorter than she'd last seen him, and he had gotten a bit stockier. He looked prouder than ever though, grinning from his seat on his bike.

“Give you a ride somewhere?” he asked.

“Is this your wish?” she asked with a small smile.

He nodded.

“Okay,” she shrugged, climbing on behind him and putting her arms around his waist.

She said goodbye to him a few minutes later, waving and turning to walk up to the house. When Gray didn't answer her knock, she cautiously pushed the door open. “Gray? Uh, Mayor?” she called.

She had never been inside Gray's house, but she wasn't very interested in snooping around. She walked through the living room, peering at the walls. There were a few paintings hanging. They all seemed to depict places in town. She recognized Herberts' orchard, the gate at the edge of the Richmonds' farm, and the clock on Main Street. She rounded the corner and found herself in what was unmistakably Gray's studio. It was a sunporch, and some of the late afternoon light still came through the windows that made up the walls, but paintings leaned on easels and covered table tops everywhere, taking focus from the moment you entered the room. She slowly circled the room. Some of the paintings were still unfinished, but most were lively with bright colours and solid lines. She recognized some of the people.

There was a painting where five different Jakes, each with a different expression ranging from vaguely amused to horribly discomforted, looked in different directions. There was one where Eric and Mary posed mid-step, hand in hand with their mouths open mid-song. Some seemed more abstract. There was a tiny-scale town, with a big pair of ghostly eyes hovering over it all. And there was a figure in a police uniform surrounded by splashes of colour and jagged edges. She spun again and again, taking in all the images.

There was a close up of a pair of hands, gliding through shimmering metal streams that seemed to leap off the canvas. A silhouette of a rider and a horse, flying across a moonlit sky. One big panorama showed, on one side, many people standing together, all wearing variations on the same colour, all smiling the same. The other side was crowded with places, all contrasting colours, different shapes, but somehow seeming less defined, less solid, than the muted people. She took a breath.

There was a painting where a man sat, his head in his hands, while silvery figures gestured dramatically all around him. There was a small boy surrounded by a landscape of bright, unnatural colours. Some canvases had watery, half finished faces, but they all stared at her. She backed up, holding a hand to her head.

“Oh, I didn't hear you come in!” exclaimed Gray from behind her. She turned to look at him. His arms were full of paintbrushes and containers. “I was just getting some extra brushes from the basement. Are you alright?”

“Just a little dizzy,” she said, looking around again. “So this is your work, huh?” she asked.

He nodded, with a strangely shy smile. “Well, it's their wishes.”

She nodded, trying to hide a nervous shiver.

“Here, you'll want to see this,” he said. He motioned at an easel in the centre of the room that had been turned around. He spun it so she could see. The board balancing on it was covered with three drawings. They were pencil sketches, showing her from three angles, focused on her pensive expressions. “Just a start, of course,” he said. “But you look like you're thinking hard. It'll only be a matter of time.”

She took a sharp breath. She stared at her face, sketched out in 2D but so familiar. She backed up. “I – I need some air.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Oh, no, everyone's done so much already,” she began.

“Well, I can walk with you to the vote. It's at town hall -”

“I can make it to town hall myself, I think,” she said.

“But there are things we haven't -”

“I'll see you there,” she said, leaving the room before she could say anything else. She hadn't quite put it into words for herself yet but she needed to get out of there. She walked as quickly as she could, out of the house, down the driveway, and along the sidewalk, away from the house.

The further away she got, the more she became surrounded by darkness, the clearer her head became. Her breathing slowed and she realized she'd been longing to be alone. There'd been something strangely isolating about being back, after all her months of taking care of herself out there. These were the people she'd left behind, but they'd left her behind too. They all seemed to be moving a million miles a minute, and it was a relief to walk slowly, away from them all, in the fresh air.

A sound pulled her out of her own thoughts. There was someone crying, up ahead in the darkness. She looked but she couldn't see who it was. A cold chill ran down her spine. She'd heard plenty of crying in her life, especially her life the past two years, but this sound seemed to invade her bones and skin with a cold, clammy kind of dread. It sounded so desperate. So final. She stepped forwards, unable to stop herself. “Hello?” she said into the darkness. “Are you – is there anything I can do to help?”

The crying got louder, but didn't stop at her voice. She kept walking forwards, but still couldn't see anyone. “Where are you?” she asked, hearing a strange almost nervousness in her voice. What reason did she have for panicking? She'd been around sad people before. The crying was louder than ever, but she still saw no one.

Behind her, suddenly, she could hear another voice. A deeper, unmistakably male voice, muttering something. She leaned, trying to hear what he was saying. Another voice then, from somewhere to her left, with the same kind of desperate tone, was shouting “They're all dead!”

“What?” she whispered, backing up. It was a mistake, as another voice behind her was wailing, “Why did we have to come back?”

She looked frantically in all the space around her, but couldn't make out eyes, faces, or bodies. More voices were intruding. “How can you act like this is –”

“- dead in my arms!”

“Why can't you just leave me –”

“- seen them? I can't find them anywhere –”

“I can't...” she whispered, hugging her arms around her, spinning around. Some of them sounded familiar, but she couldn't keep up with them.

“- kill you if you touch me!”

“Just burn it all to the –”

“See their laughing faces every time I close my -”

“Stop it! Make it stop!”

They were crying. So many of them. She stared and stared. There were no bodies, no colours to break up the night, but she began to think her brain was playing tricks. The air was starting to look distorted, shapes of things stretching, and she could feel a crowding of people, with the voices, though she couldn't see them. Her space and theirs were becoming the same, and it was getting tighter and tighter. She found herself falling to the ground. She suppressed a small scream herself, and tried to gather her limbs together. They were still closing in on her with their terrible voices.

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder. She screamed for real. “It's okay,” said Emily, still holding on and helping her to her feet. “Come on.” Not letting go of her once-teacher, the young woman followed her to the nearby winged horse. She climbed on behind Miss Sullivan, holding onto her waist as they rose above the mass of invisible crying people. They flew through the cold darkness, not saying anything until they landed in Bradbury Park a few minutes later.

“You okay?” asked Emily.

The young woman nodded. “Well, sort of. What the hell was that?”

Emily looked slightly pained and stared ahead for a moment before speaking. “We call them shadow people. But they're, well, us.”

The young woman wrinkled her forehead. “How?”

Emily let out a breath, becoming more resigned. “After we made the wishes, they appeared. Our best guess is, they're the other side. The us there would've been, if we didn't get to make our world how we wanted it. You know, some kind of balance of the universe thing.”

“Don't they -” the girl didn't know if she had the right words to talk about something like this. “Doesn't it make it weird, enjoying your life with the wishes, with them running around?”

“They don't hurt anyone,” said Emily. “They scare people, of course. Having these reminders, of what we could have been. We've mostly learned how to avoid them, how to spot them coming, but every now and then you run into them and have a bit of a rough night. It's why people feel so strongly about the vote.”

“How is the vote going to fix it?” asked the young woman.

“Well, when you leave,” said Emily, clearing her throat, “you and your shadow become one and the same.”

Another chill ran up the young woman's spine. “You – you're them?” The crying was still playing in the back of her mind, like a song on loop.

“Some combination of both,” said Emily.

“As soon as you leave town? How far can you go?” she asked.

“Across the bridge,” said Emily. “That's what happens to Eric, and Mary, when they cross over for supplies. They won't talk about it, or tell us which ones are them.” She motioned back towards the place where she'd encountered all of the shadows. “But sometimes I think that's why they wanted their life to be musical the rest of the time.”

She nodded slowly, feeling sorry for them and for the others for a moment, though that feeling began to change into something else. “Why didn't they tell me?” she asked. “Why didn't you? Or Gray, or Heather, or Jimmy and Bill?”

“We should have,” said Emily, looking guilty. “We were going to. You have to understand how scared they make everyone. How difficult it's been.”

She would have made a sarcastic retort about how awful it must've been with their fairy tale winged horses, magical invention studios, super powers and spontaneous music parties, but she couldn't. She was beginning to see their wishes and the paintings that framed them as something sinister and she could perfectly imagine it being hard. Her sympathy took over for a moment, but then her anger was back. “If people are making a decision about this, based on me coming back, expecting me to help decide, I should've known!”

Emily lost the guilty look and put on a more businesslike one. “Okay. Ask me any questions you want. Meeting's coming up soon. You'll know everything.”

She folded her arms, ready to unleash a storm of criticism, but she could only ask one. “Did he make a wish? Before he left? Is he out there, fused with one of – them?”

Emily shook her head. “No, he didn't. He isn't. I think what he wanted was one of the only things you can't get here.”

She sighed. She had imagined this, and somehow it was comforting and disturbing to actually hear it. “Okay,” she muttered.

“What?” asked Emily.

“I know what I wanted to know. I think I want to walk over to town hall. Don't want to be late for the vote.”

“You can come with me,” said Emily, but she shook her head.

“I need to be by myself, to think about things.”

“If you run into them,” began Emily.

“They can't hurt me, right?” she said, a small smile on her lips though she was far from amused. “I'll see you there.”

The flapping wings were the last she heard before she was alone. She trudged along, feeling, for the first time since she'd first arrived, the tears stream down her face. They were hot and strangely comforting. They felt more real than anything else.

As she walked, she stopped thinking about her 'why' questions. It didn't matter anymore how the town had come to be this way. She started thinking about what she had seen, and asking the question 'what if?' By the time she reached town hall, which was lit against the night, she felt a kind of solid certainty in her mind.

People were arriving from all over the town. Most of the seats were already packed, and she slipped in and took a seat near the back. She watched the people around her. Some were the adults who'd watched her grow up and who had welcomed her back over the past day. Some, she began to recognize as her own one time peers, though they all had a few years on her now.

Gray arrived and nodded at her before making his way to the front of the room and calling the meeting to order. It was an open forum, and it seemed that many of the arguments being made on both sides were ones everyone had heard before. People groaned and protested as some people began to speak, while others would cheer and support the very same speaker. When someone else would speak, the vocal listeners would switch sides.

“What if the next person to find their way into town is from New Bern, or the government?” asked Mr. Dennis, the high school P.E. Teacher. “Bill said it himself, we're running out of ammo. What if we can't fend them off?”

“We're safe here. We have lots of advantages they don't have,” said Jimmy, flashing a dark look at Bill as the other deputy rose to speak.

Bill cleared his throat. “We should think about what could happen if someone else finds a way to get at those advantages. There's no saying the wishing is just for Jericho citizens. What if someone from Team Tomarchio wishes they could deliver us all right to an ASA prison camp? What if Ravenwood wishes for some Jericho-born slaves?”

“We don't know if that can happen,” said Heather. “We won't know until we study this stuff more. But if we choose to cut ourselves off, we'll never know.”

“She's right,” said Eric. “Protecting ourselves is important, but not at the expense of cutting ourselves off from all the possibilities of the outside world.”

“I'd think you of all people would argue otherwise,” said Harry Carmichael. “Wouldn't you agree safety and stability for our families is more important than pursuing answers we might never get?”

“There are things out there we can't get in here,” countered Mary, standing beside Eric. “Every time we risk going out there, it's because we really need to.”

“But you don't get to make that decision for all of us,” argued Bill. “We have food. We have water. We have people who can fix any problems that come up.” Some people loudly agreed.

“He's right,” said Gail Green, standing on Eric's other side and flashing an apologetic look at him. He looked resigned as he nodded. It seemed they had spoken about this before. “It's dangerous out there, more dangerous than any problems we'll face in here. Whatever happens here, it's contained and we can deal with it, together. So maybe it's better if we decide, together, that we're going to protect ourselves.”

“She's right. This is what we know, this is what we love. There's not much we can hold onto, but this is our chance to hold onto that,” said Jake, standing up on Gail's other side and putting his arm around her.

“Things are dangerous everywhere, inside and out there,” said Jake – another Jake – from the front row. He stood up, tensing his muscles and striking a heroic pose. “I've kept us safe before and I'll do it again. We don't have to be so afraid we destroy our only link to the world out there.”

The Jake beside Gail narrowed his eyes and the Jake in the front row sent a smirk in his direction.

“Are you people forgetting, we've had this debate dozens of times already?” asked Allison from the other side of the room. “We can't even agree whether we should do anything about this, or for some reason whether or not we should repaint the library. Are you sure you want to be stuck in here, with nowhere to go, if we ever really disagree?”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Stanley, sticking his chin out defiantly. “I'd risk my life for this town all over again and I know they would do the same for me. It's where I want my family to be safe and grow up.”

“What if they don't want to stay here forever?” asked Emily from her seat. “What about your kids?” she looked around at everyone in the room. “We all got our say about what we wanted out of life, and this town. But they're still growing, and learning, and deciding things. What if they decide that what they want is to leave? To see the world?”

“They can wish it!” said Mimi, looking rather emotional.

“It's not the same,” said Allison with a strange almost-smile.

“If they go out there, we lose them,” said Sean, sending a few sparks flying as he stood. The people on either side of him found their hair to be standing on end. “Someone leaves, they might never get back. If they do, they're a different age and you're still far apart. This way, we won't lose them. We won't lose anything important.”

“We will,” said the girl who had returned the day before. Everyone was suddenly quiet, staring in her direction. She hesitated a moment but stood up.

“This is because your boyfriend is still out there!” someone shouted. She peered through the crowd. A young woman holding a baby who was pulling on her hair stared back at her. She wondered if she could possibly be Lisa Whalley.

She shook her head slowly. “No, it's not. Well, yeah, that's part of it, but he's not all we'll lose. When I came back here I thought I'd lost something. And now it's something out there you're saying I could lose. But it's an if. I didn't lose this place, it just changed. And he's out there, somewhere, and so are...other people. They're not lost. Well, maybe for now, but until we cut them off, they're not lost for good. Why would we choose a world where we're so afraid of losing that we cut ourselves off from not losing?”

“Okay, Yoda,” said someone from the side of the room where Stanley and Sean were sitting. There were a few laughs. More people shouted their objections.

She glanced helplessly to the front of the room. Gray had raised his eyebrows at her. She felt her expression changing on her face, becoming more certain. He looked slightly surprised, but gave her a small nod.

“So it's all about choice, isn't it?” she asked. “Staying here, leaving. Wishing, moving on, or waiting. I'm going to make a choice today, and I hope you'll choose carefully too.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Bill.

She smiled a small smile. “I'm not going to make a wish. I'm just going to make a decision. And I'm going to make it happen through my own work. I won't be a shadow, and I won't have to choose between staying and leaving. And if you let me, I will keep this town safe so you won't have to cut it off from the rest of the world.”

A few people nodded. Some still protested. She leaned towards Heather. “Do you think you could help me?” She whispered her idea and Heather nodded as she spoke. “I don't see why we couldn't,” she said.

“Great,” said the newly decided woman. She turned to the rest of the room and began to explain.

The vote was close. Friends and family members opposed one another, and in the end those voting to keep the passageway between their tiny, insulated world of fantasy fulfillment and physics law suspension and the larger world beyond it outnumbered those voting to destroy it. There weren't a lot of hard feelings, it seemed, as opponents became friends again on their way out the door, many of them heading towards Bailey's for a celebratory drink and chorus number.

“That was a pretty good idea you had,” said Gray, from a place near the doorway. Most people were already out of the room, and the two of them were bringing up the rear.

She shrugged. “It just sort of came to me. Partly on my way there, partly listening to them talk.” She glanced sideways. “How did you – you looked like you understood. What I was going to do. How?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I didn't know, exactly. But I had an idea where you were going. At least in the personal decision way.”

“But how?” she asked.

He handed her a small piece of paper. “Well, I knew I had to stop at this.”

She glanced down. It was her own face, sketched in charcoal across the page. There was nothing magical happening. No laws of the universe were bending around her, she wasn't surrounded by puppies or winning a figure skating medal. It was just her face, staring intently at something, with the kind of cool confidence she imagined must have appeared on her face just moments before, in the meeting. She glanced up quickly as a thought occurred to her. “It's not a -”

“Not a wish,” he nodded. “You're still just you. That's what the artist saw.”

She began to hand the drawing to him. “You keep it,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said. With a wave goodbye, she began walking into the night. For the first time since coming home, she really smiled.

It only took a week to finish. She planned it with Heather and Harry Carmichael, she worked on it every day, and many of her friends came down to help. The day it was finished, there was no fanfare. No one was out there watching a ribbon cutting ceremony. Allison was the only other person there as twilight began to creep into the sky and she stared up at the finished product.

“Pretty cool, huh?” asked Allison. “How fast we can put something together when we work on it?”

The woman nodded, with a small smile on her face. “It's nothing fancy, but I think it'll work.”

The wooden structure was fairly small, with a ladder leading up to its door. The walls were rough, but the beams holding it up in the sky were sturdy.

Allison smiled too. She pressed a package into her friend's hand. “It's hot chocolate. The Taylors grow it in their backyard. You have something for boiling water right?”

She nodded. “There's a camp stove. Thanks.”

“Welcome,” nodded Allison. “So, have a good first shift. Great town protector.”

They both laughed. “Thanks,” said the woman, nodding her head and stepping towards the ladder.

Allison began to walk away, but she turned back. “Hey, if you need anything, you know everyone'll -”

“Yeah, I know,” said the woman. She waved goodbye and watched her friend walking away for a few moments before she began climbing.

Once she reached the door and went inside, she smiled as she looked around. There were a couple old chairs and a couch, the table with the little cook stove, and a stack of books from the library.

She picked up the binoculars from the table and went over to the other door, stepping out onto the small balcony and sitting in the lawn chair. She lit the lantern by her side and settled in, looking down from her perch at the bridge below. As she began her watch, she smiled again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Happy Halloween!” Bill had been about to open the front door of Bailey's tavern, but he turned and noticed Emily and Heather approaching. He let out a big laugh when he took in their costumes. “Too perfect!”

Emily raised an eyebrow. Heather looked confused. “I didn't think our costumes were that funny.”

“Hers is,” he said as he caught a breath between laughs, pointing towards Emily. “But I've got to say, yours is genius.” He looked at Heather. “Just make sure you stay around Emily all night and maybe we'll all avoid going up in smoke!”

Emily rolled her eyes. “At least we're wearing costumes to the costume party.”

“I'm wearing a costume,” said Bill indignantly, tugging on the collar of his uniform.

“You're what, Captain Overtime?” asked Heather with a smirk.

Bill tapped his name tag. Only it wasn't his name written across it. “Sorry, that was insensitive. I'm allergic to soy. Go Jayhawks!”

“Did Jimmy approve this?” asked Emily.

“How do you think I got his name tag?” asked Bill. He opened the door, and gestured. “After you, my fellow public hero and Chef Dangerous.”

Inside, the bar was decorated with a few twinkling jack-o-lanterns and a bunch of old decorations Emily remembered from other Halloweens before the bombs. A lot of people were already gathered there, wearing costumes they'd likely cobbled together that day, from the look of most of them. Most people these days were pretty tired, doing double shifts as they contributed to the harvest on top of putting in time at their regular jobs. They enjoyed celebrating and unwinding as much as ever though, and tonight they were all drinking cider or the 'Pumpkin Surprise' being offered on the blackboard over the bar. Music played, some people were dancing, and Emily searched the crowd for their friends.

“Hey, you look great, man!” said Jimmy, smiling at Bill. “Chip off the old block.”

“He's just wearing your name tag. That's his whole costume,” said Emily. “You're at least using your work shirt to be another profession.” Jimmy was indeed wearing his usual work shirt, but he'd paired it with non-work pants, a bucket hat, and a stuffed animal on each shoulder.

“I love the tiger, Jimmy!” said Heather.

He patted his shoulder. “It's a loaner. I promised Sally I'd have him back before morning.”

“Good party so far?” asked Bill.

Jimmy nodded. “Try the pumpkin surprise. Speaking of, if you'll excuse me, I promised my lady I'd get her another drink.” He motioned to a booth, where Margaret was sitting, wearing a plastic tiara and silvery cape, chatting with a few friends. He started towards the bar. The newcomers began to follow. It seemed tonight's offerings were popular as there was a lineup. It was there that they bumped into Stanley and Mimi. “Hey, did someone call 911?” Stanley said, looking at their costumes. “Cop, firefighter, and...that's a weird paramedic costume.”

“I'm a chef,” said Emily, tugging on her hat.

Stanley laughed. “And I thought none of us were going the scary costume route. Mary,” he called in the direction of the bar. “Better make sure your extinguishers are working.”

Mary was behind the bar, busily pouring drinks and handing them in all directions. She nodded without looking up and the fall leaves she'd stuck in her hair bobbed with her.

Emily swatted teasingly at Stanley. “Your costume could be scary. What are you, someone's drunk uncle?”

Stanley pointed to the whistle he wore over his football jacket. “I'm the coach of an underdog football team that I've just led to victory. I was going to be a football player, but then I figured I should do something to show how I'm moving up in the world and stuff.” He brandished a clipboard proudly.

“And you are?” said Emily, looking to Mimi, who had just accepted a drink. “You, on one of your fancy days at work?”

Mimi drew herself up to her full height. “I'm the news reporter, interviewing the coach after his unprecedented victory. Some might say it's a heartwarming human interest story.”

“I gave some great pep talks,” said Stanley, taking his own drink. “I think she's going to fall in love with me.”

Mary chuckled from behind the bar. “I don't know. Football coach and news reporter? How would you make those schedules jive?”

“Aw, come on, that's what they've said about all the greats,” said Stanley. He took a sip of his drink. “That is awesome!”

Emily noticed Kenchy, wearing a black turtleneck with white medical tape running up it in a dotted line and a matchbox car driving up the left side. She nodded and returned his smile. Something in the conversation going on around her caught her attention and she whipped her head back towards her friends.

“I was going to do my famous zombie football player again,” Stanley was saying.

“And I thought zombie apocalypse was probably a little too dark for this year,” Mimi added.

“Yeah, we get enough of the apocalypse. Who wants to deal with zombies on top of it?” asked Stanley.

“And this way, the news reporter can interview him instead of running screaming from him,” finished Mimi.

“I don't know,” said Stanley. “I picture you more as the zombie fighting reporter type. Hey, you okay Em?”

“What?” asked Emily. She realized that she had been staring, open mouthed, and that everyone was staring at her. “Yeah, zombies, bad. So you guys raided your closet. Good call.”

“I thought so. How much more am I going to get to wear this?” asked Mimi. “Hey, watch it,” she said, jumping back as Eric went by balancing a tray. “You may have that magic...chopstick, but I don't believe you can magic away pumpkin stains from my Ann Taylor jacket.” She glanced over at Mary. “You going to join us for a toast?”

Emily didn't hear Mary's reply as she had begun laughing at Eric's costume as soon as she'd registered the worn bathrobe he had paired with a pointed paper hat. “And you guys raided your linen closet?” She looked over at Mary, who was coming out from behind the bar, handing drinks to her and Heather. Her leafy hair accessories accompanied a bright green floral printed bed sheet, which she'd fashioned into a toga of sorts.

“Awesome,” Heather was saying to Eric. “It really goes with your beard. Are you a specific wizard or do you have your own wizardy name?”

“I'm Radaveld the mighty,” said Eric, taking a big swig of his drink as Emily and Bill laughed again. “Hey, I could turn you all into talking animals you know.”

“I'd want to be a puppy. No, a lion,” said Stanley.

“As you wish,” said Eric. Emily nearly choked on her drink.

Bill turned to Mary. “Who are you, then? The mighty Aphrodite?”

“No, I'm Demeter, goddess of the harvest,” said Mary. The line had disappeared for now so she paused to sip her own drink. “I figured that'd be the most helpful for us right now.”

“She's also the goddess of fertility and seasons and the earth,” said Eric.

“And I'm a badass mom so if you ever take my kid away, I'll ruin your life,” added Mary. Eric grinned at her and she chuckled but grew serious as she looked at Emily. “Everything alright, Em?”

Emily blinked. “When – if you guys have kids,” she looked from them to Stanley and Mimi and back again. “Could you just, you know, watch them carefully? Make sure you catch any...radiation eyes or weird psychic powers early on?”

Her friends chuckled, and she herself smiled. “I guess we can do our best,” said Eric.

“But psychic powers? Not sure we should be trying to stop those. Don't you think they'd be pretty handy?” asked Stanley.

“I can think of cooler powers you could develop,” said Bill. “What about being able to fly? Or being bulletproof like Superman?”

Emily turned to look at him. “What?”

“Speaking of children to keep an eye on,” said Stanley, nodding with his head to the area by the pool table. They all looked over. Emily noticed several of her students clustered, chatting and getting ready to play a game. “Looks like the scary costume is still trendy with the young'uns.”

“They were allowed to sign out costumes from the high school theatre department,” said Heather. “I think it's nice they got into the spirit.”

They did look like they were enjoying themselves. Skylar, in a shiny space suit and colourful wig, was laughing and scolding the others who were teasing her as she prepared a shot. Allison, wearing plastic armour over a hoodie, was leaning back and enjoying her own drink. Dale had transformed a lab coat into some kind of mad scientist ensemble, with a doll's arm sticking out of his neck. She recognized Sean's fake leather jacket with a T across the back from the last production Jericho High had done before the bombs, but the furry arm bands were from another era.

“Is Sean a teen wolf or a greaser?” asked Eric.

“Seems like he's both,” mused Emily.

Sean was pretending to wind up to hit Marcus with his pool cue. “I think maybe he's trying to take on Jack the Ripper. I wonder if Marcus knows that's a woman's shirt.”

Some of the kids cheered and others booed as Skylar sunk a striped ball. “So how'd the story project go?” asked Stanley. “Lots of thrills and chills from the junior league of horror?”

“Some,” said Emily, flashing Heather a glance and sipping her drink.

“I bet it'd be scary. Getting a look into their brains. Sometimes I wonder if we should be watching our backs more,” said Bill. Stanley chuckled and nudged him. “Seriously!” continued Bill. “Doesn't it freak you out, sometimes? Trying to figure out what the hell they're thinking?”

Emily glanced at her students again. Sean was lining up his shot, distracted for a moment by Marcus trying to yank the cue out from behind him. Skylar and Dale were watching with only half concentration, their hands casually intertwined for the moment. Allison had also been watching but she glanced over and caught Emily's eye for a moment. She smiled and waved. Emily smiled and waved back.

They were all smiling, all at once. She could feel her friends laughing. She thought of the song. “They're alright.”