The white plastic crinkles softly in the still air. A smiling seed with a shovel slung over its shoulder beams up at us.Smiling Seeds.Cheerful font. Friendly colors. Absolute nightmare fuel.
The logo is laughing at us.
Cole’s voice drops to a whisper. “So we know how. Now what do we do?”
Shaun paces in a tight line, shoulders locked up, jaw grinding like he’s chewing glass. “I don’t know, Cole. We’re clearly outmatched. You got any bright ideas?”
“You two are still breathing,” Cole says. “So I figured maybe you had a plan.” He hesitates, then looks between us. “Whyareyou two alive?” His eyes flick to me. “No offense, but you were closer to them than I was. Why didn’t they go for you first?”
Shaun stops cold. “That’s a messed-up question.”
I lift a hand. “Actually, it’s a good one.”
He turns on me. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” My pulse ticks faster as the thought clicks into place. I drop onto a crate, wood creaking under my weight. “We were two barns over. Hell, we both know that thing knew we were in the house. If they wanted us dead, we’d already be compost.”
Both of them stare at me now.
“Something set them off,” I say. “Something specific.” I look at Cole. “What happened with Drew?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I went to load the tractor with pumpkins. Drew stayed behind to set up the games.”
“Anything weird when you came back?”
He snorts. “Other than him ditching me? No.”
Shaun steps in, sharp. “Think harder. Anything new? Blood. Drag marks. Anything out of place?”
Cole frowns. “There were smashed pumpkin pieces near the games. I figured Drew was testing the smashing station. That’s it.”
My stomach tightens. “Maybe thatisit.”
Shaun squints at me. “Explain.”
“Maybe each one of them did something to the pumpkins,” I say, my pulse finally slowing into something usable. “They pissed the pumpkins off. That’s what put targets on their backs.”
Cole shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything. So why come after me?”
I look at him. Really look at him. Pale, shaking, dirt streaked, still alive by dumb luck and timing. “You were loading them up to be smashed, carved, destroyed. You were the distributor.” I wince even as the thought finishes forming. “Basically, you were like a pimp.”
Cole recoils. “Gross metaphor. Absolutely not. I refuse to be compared to a sleazebag who exploits women.”
Shaun sighs. “You know what she meant.”
“Fine,” Cole mutters. “Still hate it.”
Their bickering fades into background noise as my brain races ahead, piecing together the evidence like a crime board made of hay and glitter glue.
Drew smashed one. Trigger pulled.
Fred turned pumpkins into baked goods. Candy. Drinks. Everything in the gift shop screamedharvest season monetized to hell.
Sandie was probably setting baked goods out for the fall fanatics. Would that be enough to piss them off? Or maybe she ate something pumpkin flavored in the main barn?
Or maybe I’m forcing a pattern because I don’t have an answer and my brain hates that.
And Shaun and I? We straight up murdered two.
