The barn falls silent.
A scream escapes me as my vision fractures into white and orange and black. The last thing I feel is the vines loosening, satisfied, as my heart stutters and stops.
Guess fame really does kill you in the end.
ELEVEN
FEAR OF THE WORST DEATH
VAL
A scream ripsthrough the air.
We tear apart like we’ve been shocked, breath ragged, my pulse slamming for a reason that has nothing to do with heat or flirting or the sun on my skin.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper.
Shaun’s head snaps toward the main barn. His face drains. “It came from there.”
We jump off the truck and hit the dirt running. The sun hangs overhead, blinding and cheerful, like it didn’t get the memo that something is very wrong. The ground hums. Waiting.
“Fred?” Shaun shouts as he shoves the barn door open.
The hinge screams loud enough to hurt. Inside, the sound dies instantly, swallowed.
“Sandie?” he calls again.
I slap the light switch. Nothing. I prop the door open with my shoulder, dragging daylight inside with us.
The gift shop looks like it lost a fight. Shelves tipped over. Displays smashed. Coffee cups and lids scattered across thefloor. A station abandoned mid-setup, like someone ran without thinking to grab anything.
My chest tightens. I grab a nearby bucket to keep the door open.
We move aisle by aisle. Behind the register. Around the endcaps. Avoiding the broken jam bottles strewn across the floor. The sticky orange substance is smeared everywhere, but there’s no one around.
“Maybe Sandie cut herself?” I offer, but my gut is telling me something worse happened here.
Shaun looks at me and I know he doubts it too.
A whiff of iron hits me.
Please don’t be blood . . .
Shaun steps in front of me without hesitation, his body a shield. “Stay close.” He reaches his arm around, tugging one of my belt loops, keeping me tight to his back.
We pass tables frozen in time. Discount mugs lie shattered across the floor. Plastic pumpkin buckets spill their guts, trinkets and candy skittered everywhere. Paper ghosts dangle crooked from their strings, swaying gently, cheerful faces mocking the wreckage.
Somethingverybad happened here.
The air turns thick as we near the back of the building, coppery and tense. My gaze drops to the floor and my stomach folds in on itself.
Dark red splotches lead to the back as though someone was rushing away with a serious cut. Shaun’s grip tightens as we slowly follow the trail to the back door. I grip the back of his shirt, ready to pull him with me if we need to run. We round the corner and catch sight of the door.
Open.
Dark streaks gleam in the low light.
Long. Uneven.
