The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide by Erica Stevens Page A

going as superheroes; he'd been Superman while Lee and Bobby had gone as Spiderman and Batman. Riley had insisted upon being a hockey player and had shown up wearing pads, a Bruins Jersey, and carrying a stick. That stick had left his shins bruised by the end of the night, but then he'd thrown more than a few fake spiders and snakes at her over the course of the night too.
    He still recalled it as being one of the best haunted houses he'd ever gone through, but then he'd also managed to maneuver himself closer to Riley in the darkness. In her fear, she'd grasped hold of his hand. It was the first time he'd ever held her hand; it was also the first time he realized that he never wanted to let go of it again as they jumped from the skeletons and monsters that leapt out at them.
    He'd kept Carol close by his other side as they navigated the twists and turns through foamy rubber hallways that had been recently assembled. There'd been a bowl of peeled grapes, "eyeballs" near the end of the tour. They'd all placed their hands in and squealed as the "eyeballs" squished and squirmed in their hands.
    Whatever was in the corner of this room now reminded him of those grapes.
    Inhaling shakily, Xander bent over as he tried to control the wave of grief that slithered through him. His shoulders shook as his fingers dug into his knees and he struggled to breathe through the constriction in his chest.
    "Xander?"
    He remained motionless, unable to respond to Bobby as he sought to regain his composure. Carol had been so delighted in her pigtails, rotund suit, and orange face. Her favorite part of Halloween had always been carving the pumpkins. His parents had put so much work and love into that haunted house. They'd been so pleased with themselves, and so had the other parents that had participated, including Riley's. They'd shared drinks and laughs after, and debated who had managed to scare the children the most.
    Xander managed to bite back a sob as he inhaled shakily again and blinked back the tears that burned his eyes. He focused on the present, on the room around him, before the past could bury him.
    "Xander?"
    "I'm ok Bobby," he managed to croak out.
    "You sure?"
    "Yeah, I'm fine." He just wasn't going anywhere near what was to the right of him again. He'd been in that house, he'd seen what had happened to those people, and though he knew he shouldn't be, he was convinced that one of those bodies was next to him. "Everything ok out there?"
    "There's no one around. Do you want me to come in?"
    "No, if I need help I'll let you know."
    "Be careful!" Mary Ellen called to him.
    He was trying, but he didn't even know where he was in the room. He'd been hoping to find a door but stumbling around blindly was getting him nowhere right now. Taking another deep breath, he straightened back up. He was determined not to be weighed down by the apprehension threatening to consume him. He could do this, somehow.
    He shuffled forward again, but was brought up by another desk. Moving gingerly around it, he tried to keep his shins from looking like Riley had taken a hockey stick to them again. His right hand connected with something solid. Relief filled him as he fumbled over the wall. "I found a wall!" he called back.
    "Ah, that's good I guess," Bobby replied.
    "Better than the desks."
    He began to move sideways along the wall as he felt over the surface. There were breaks in the plaster but none that felt like a doorframe. His hand came in contact with molding seconds before it fell into an abyss. Xander groped forward for a few seconds before he realized that he'd made it to the hallway. He glanced back at the window before taking a shambling step forward. He grasped hold of the doorframe and stood half in and half out of the hall.
    "Hello!" he shouted. He strained to hear anything but the silence remained absolute and profound. He took a few more hesitant steps forward. "Hello!"
    He thought he heard something in the distance, a dull thud, or perhaps