Then something slammed into the monster.
Andrew felt it more than saw it. The weight suddenly shoved to the side as the monster toppled to its knees, vines retracting from Andrew. It let out a roar that shook the trees to their roots.
Andrew scurried backward on all fours. His phone light must have shut off because all he had was the blackness. Pebbles bit his hands, his knees, underbrush clawing at his shirt. He couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t get his legs underneath him, he couldn’t, he—
Hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up. Soft hands, warm and freckled and human.
A face shoved into Andrew’s, so close he felt someone else’s eyelashes on his cheek for one breath of a second.
Then he understood the yelling.
“Get up, GET UP. Andrew! Goddammit. STAND UP.”
Behind them, the monster roared.
Andrew allowed himself to be dragged to his feet, but he didn’t let go of the hands holding him. He clutched Thomas like he was the only thing real in a world of nightmares.
Thomas grabbed his hand and jerked him forward until they were running together down the narrow track, stumbling but gaining speed. His fingers were sweaty and kept slipping.
Thomas didn’t let go.
In his free hand, he held a spike, metal like the ones stakingrosebushes near the dorms. But that meant he’d brought it into the forest on purpose.
The monster lunged after them, its vines shooting outward to snatch at their shirts, their elbows, their ankles. Thomas yanked Andrew to take a hard right and they plunged into underbrush of thorny brambles.
Andrew had no air to speak, and his mouth tasted of the forest.
Thomas said, “Jump!” just in time, and Andrew had enough sense to make the leap. Then they were falling.
Terror filled him as they toppled. It was only a few feet, but they slammed hard to the ground and Andrew crashed to his knees, pulling Thomas on top of him. They must’ve tumbled into a small gully, tree roots making a natural overhang. They barely fit under the ledge. But with legs pulled up to their chins and their backs to the wall of dirt, they had a second to catch their breath.
Thomas wrapped one arm around Andrew’s neck and closed a hand over his mouth. His fingers dug into Andrew’s jaw so hard there would be thumbprint bruises there tomorrow.
The forest had gone silent.
They were pressed so tight together, hearts pounding and chests heaving in rhythm. Everything smelled of mud and sweat and blood. Dirt crumbled above them and pattered into their hair.
They could hear the monster standing above the overhang, sniffing the air.
Thomas did not loosen his hand over Andrew’s mouth, but inexplicably he turned and pressed his lips against Andrew’sfilth-streaked forehead. It lasted half a second. A kiss, but not. Comfort, but useless. The promise,I’m here, without words.
Andrew breathed out, shuddering.
Then the monster jumped.
It landed in front of them in a shower of dirt and snapped roots. Its vines shot forward as it roared, reaching for the boys locked together. They slammed into Andrew first, clawing up his body, and he couldn’t scream because of Thomas’s hand.
But then Thomas let go.
He lunged forward to run.
He didn’t grab for Andrew. Didn’t reach back. Didn’t try to save—
Andrew flung his arms over his face and folded to the forest floor. The horrible weight of this realization bloomed through his heart—that Thomas would escape alone and Andrew would crumble, and didn’t that just fit them perfectly?
Except then Thomas howled.
He came up behind the monster and swung his garden spike, slamming it against the monster’s skull. The crack echoed through the forest. Thomas swung again and again, as if it were a baseball bat and he wanted nothing left but splinters.
