stick?
“Run, Abbey! The other one is almost on top of you.”
Abbey rose uncertainly as Caleb’s stick jerked around in the air. He took step after terrifying step back toward the edge of the precipice. Where was she going to go? How did one fight an unseen enemy? And yet even as she thought this, the ripples in the air had started to take the shape of dogs. She was observing, too. Her growing belief that there was something there, fueled by Caleb’s and Mark’s behavior, was collapsing the wave function.
Her voice shook. “Just close your eyes. Everyone. Please. Try it. Remember what you said about influencing Russell with your thoughts. Do the same with the dogs. They’re not here.” She smelled a whiff of dog, felt breath on her face.
“If we close our eyes and they are here, we’re dead,” Caleb said through gritted teeth. “Run for the skull—there’s a swimming hole there. People jump off the cliff. Ian—” He lurched back as if struck, and then he whirled, pulling the stick close to his body and releasing it over the edge of the cliff. He teetered, and in a jumble of sneakers, jeans, and red hair, he fell, hurtling off the side of the cliff into the foaming rush of water. His body disappeared, pulled under by the roiling current.
Abbey screamed.
Caleb’s brilliant orange hair erupted to the surface, and he flailed his arms and gasped for breath. He managed to stay above water for a few seconds before the current pulled him under again, carrying him relentlessly, rapidly downstream away from her, until he was lost from sight around a bend in the canyon wall.
Abbey stared. Caleb was gone. He would be killed for sure. A wave of helpless shock threatened to capsize her.
“They’re not here. They’re not here.” Mark’s voice fractured her horror. He had his eyes pressed tightly closed. “They’re not here.”
Abbey turned her gaze back to the woods. The ripples of movement had vanished.
“Mark, where did the dogs go?” Saying the word “dogs” had an instantaneous effect, as if even acknowledging they might have existed was enough. A single arc of undefined movement streaked through the woods in their direction.
“They are not here,” Mark repeated insistently, his eyes bunches of tight creases.
Abbey closed her own eyes and prayed.
*****
“They’re not here.” Mark said the words over and over, rocking back and forth gently. He was used to this routine, this repetition to comfort himself, to make the ills of the world go away (and those dogs were among the biggest and most alarming ills he had ever seen). The back of his head pounded and stung, and his neck was sticky and warm. He had seen the clawed woman right behind him. She had struck him with a rock. But even as he thought this, he felt the movement of someone, or something, else near him again (so he desperately unthought it).
One of the dogs had plummeted into the river with Caleb. He had seen this before he snapped his eyes shut, following Abbey’s orders. But the other one, and the clawed woman, could be anywhere around him. “They are not here,” he announced even more vehemently.
“Mark.” Abbey’s shaky voice cut through his loop of denial. “We need to crawl away from the edge. Feel with your hands and move in the opposite direction. Then we’re going to stand up. You’re going to stand behind me, put your hands on my shoulders, and follow me. I’m going to feel my way along from tree to tree along the edge of the cliff until we’re as far away from the Madrona as possible. Just don’t open your eyes. Got it?”
“They are not here,” Mark repeated, then realized that Abbey needed an answer. “I will not open my eyes.” He felt Abbey’s hand touch his arm and tried not to flinch as she pushed him in the direction that he was pretty sure was away from the cliff edge. He crawled, feeling the movement of her body next to his, and then stopped when she grasped his arm.
“Okay,” she
“Run, Abbey! The other one is almost on top of you.”
Abbey rose uncertainly as Caleb’s stick jerked around in the air. He took step after terrifying step back toward the edge of the precipice. Where was she going to go? How did one fight an unseen enemy? And yet even as she thought this, the ripples in the air had started to take the shape of dogs. She was observing, too. Her growing belief that there was something there, fueled by Caleb’s and Mark’s behavior, was collapsing the wave function.
Her voice shook. “Just close your eyes. Everyone. Please. Try it. Remember what you said about influencing Russell with your thoughts. Do the same with the dogs. They’re not here.” She smelled a whiff of dog, felt breath on her face.
“If we close our eyes and they are here, we’re dead,” Caleb said through gritted teeth. “Run for the skull—there’s a swimming hole there. People jump off the cliff. Ian—” He lurched back as if struck, and then he whirled, pulling the stick close to his body and releasing it over the edge of the cliff. He teetered, and in a jumble of sneakers, jeans, and red hair, he fell, hurtling off the side of the cliff into the foaming rush of water. His body disappeared, pulled under by the roiling current.
Abbey screamed.
Caleb’s brilliant orange hair erupted to the surface, and he flailed his arms and gasped for breath. He managed to stay above water for a few seconds before the current pulled him under again, carrying him relentlessly, rapidly downstream away from her, until he was lost from sight around a bend in the canyon wall.
Abbey stared. Caleb was gone. He would be killed for sure. A wave of helpless shock threatened to capsize her.
“They’re not here. They’re not here.” Mark’s voice fractured her horror. He had his eyes pressed tightly closed. “They’re not here.”
Abbey turned her gaze back to the woods. The ripples of movement had vanished.
“Mark, where did the dogs go?” Saying the word “dogs” had an instantaneous effect, as if even acknowledging they might have existed was enough. A single arc of undefined movement streaked through the woods in their direction.
“They are not here,” Mark repeated insistently, his eyes bunches of tight creases.
Abbey closed her own eyes and prayed.
*****
“They’re not here.” Mark said the words over and over, rocking back and forth gently. He was used to this routine, this repetition to comfort himself, to make the ills of the world go away (and those dogs were among the biggest and most alarming ills he had ever seen). The back of his head pounded and stung, and his neck was sticky and warm. He had seen the clawed woman right behind him. She had struck him with a rock. But even as he thought this, he felt the movement of someone, or something, else near him again (so he desperately unthought it).
One of the dogs had plummeted into the river with Caleb. He had seen this before he snapped his eyes shut, following Abbey’s orders. But the other one, and the clawed woman, could be anywhere around him. “They are not here,” he announced even more vehemently.
“Mark.” Abbey’s shaky voice cut through his loop of denial. “We need to crawl away from the edge. Feel with your hands and move in the opposite direction. Then we’re going to stand up. You’re going to stand behind me, put your hands on my shoulders, and follow me. I’m going to feel my way along from tree to tree along the edge of the cliff until we’re as far away from the Madrona as possible. Just don’t open your eyes. Got it?”
“They are not here,” Mark repeated, then realized that Abbey needed an answer. “I will not open my eyes.” He felt Abbey’s hand touch his arm and tried not to flinch as she pushed him in the direction that he was pretty sure was away from the cliff edge. He crawled, feeling the movement of her body next to his, and then stopped when she grasped his arm.
“Okay,” she
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