Ship of Souls by Zetta Elliott

heavy branch and holds it behind her head like a baseball bat. Problem is, there’s no one to hit. It’s like I’m being dragged along by a ghost!
    Out of desperation, Nyla just starts beating the ground. Dead leaves fly up, and Nyla cries out, “There’s a chain!” She drops the branch and reaches down to grab it. It’s pulled taut and leads to a massive uprooted tree about twenty feet away. There’s a gaping hole in the ground that’s only partly covered by the snakelike roots of the dead tree. And down that hole is where I’m headed unless we find a way to break that chain.
    Keem calls to Nyla, “We’ve got to get this thing off his leg! Get another branch—a smaller one we can use to pry it off.”
    Nyla frantically sifts through the dead leaves on the ground until she finds a strong, short stick. She rushes over to me and tries to wedge it between my ankle and the trap’s jaws, but I can’t keep still—first of all, it hurts! And second of all, I’m still being pulled toward that hole in the ground. Keem’s tugging on me with all his might, but whatever it is just won’t let go. Keem’s yelling at Nyla, trying to tell her what to do. And Nyla’s yelling at Keem, mostly because she’s frustrated that the wedge won’t work. I’m hollering because it feels like some beast is biting into my ankle with its razor-sharp teeth.
    Suddenly, beneath our loud, panicked voices I hear a strange hissing. Actually, I don’t really hear it—I feel it. It’s like a cold, wet mist that slithers along the ground—and it’s coming out of that hole. Something touches the sole of my shoe and then winds up my leg. I get goose bumps all over, and then I hear, “ It belongs to US .”
    I look over my shoulder so I can see where the voices are coming from, and then I yell even louder than before because something is coming out of the hole in the ground!
    “Don’t let it get me! Pull harder—pull harder!”
    “I’m pulling as hard as I can!” shouts Keem. “You want me to pull your arms out?”
    “But look! It’s coming—it’s coming for me!”
    Nyla looks over at the uprooted tree and sees the gray mist oozing out of the hole in the ground. The horror I feel is now stamped on her face. Tendrils of fog unfurl like fingers and follow the length of chain that leads straight to us.
    “ It’s ours! ” The voices seem louder now that I’ve been shocked into silence.
    “Oh—my—God.” Nyla’s words barely come out as a whisper, but somehow Keem hears her and follows her frightened gaze.
    “What the…”
    The ground beneath me starts to rumble. “ Give—it—BACK! ”
    All of a sudden, a deafening cry comes from above. We all look up, expecting to find the hawk we saw earlier, but instead a blinding white light fills the late afternoon sky. We don’t know whether to shield our eyes or plug our ears because a second later the hissing voices explode in an earsplitting shriek. And then…
    Everything stops. The bright light dims, the angry voices grow silent, the jaw clamped on my ankle goes slack, and the sinister smoke seeps back underground. Keem pulls the terrible trap off my leg and hurls it away in disgust. I see the flash of silver as Nyla reaches for my face. I try to speak, to thank my new friends, but instead I pass out in Nyla’s arms.

9.
    W hen I come to, Keem and Nyla are arguing over me.
    “He’s bleeding pretty bad—we better take him to the hospital.”
    “And say what? ‘Here’s our friend. Some crazy beast-trap-chain thing tried to drag him underground while we were hanging out in Prospect Park.’” Nyla rolls her eyes. “They’re not going to believe that!”
    “So…we’ll say a coyote did it! They’ve attacked kids before.”
    “In Brooklyn? If we blame a wild animal, he’ll have to get rabies shots—the ER doctor will have to report it, his foster mother will get involved, maybe even ACS.”
    “No!” I mumble feebly. “They’ll send me to the group home. I