Page 130 of Pretty Nightmare

I hear small feet crashing in the brush on the top of the embankment and I hunker down on top of Indie, trying to flatten myself into the water. It’s a shallow river. But the water splashes up over Indie’s face every now and then. I cup my hands around the side of her mouth so the water can’t get in.

And I listen.

The little kid up above us is walking slowly now. Hardly making any noise. Then there’s a great crashing through the underbrush and a scream.

A girl. It’s a little girl, just like the one underneath me. Except that one up top doesn’t have enough fight in her. She’s not gonna make it.

The crack of the rifle makes me jump and I let out a whimper before I can stop myself.

Something thumps up top on the embankment. And then boots in the underbrush. Crashing through the leafy shrubs.

The little girl is dragged away. And then I hear the hunter call, “Number seven! Over here! I got number seven!”

I know who that voice belongs to.

But for some reason, even though my grandfather warned me not to leave the river because the river makes me cold and they can’t see cold, they can only see heat, I need to see him. I need to burn that face into my brain.

I need to know who my enemies are.

So I leave Indie in the river and carefully crawl back up the embankment, slipping on the muddy earth. But there’s a lot of commotion now. Lot of kids screaming in the jungle. More cracks of the rifles shooting darts at them. More running boots.

And when I get to the top I hide behind the broad leaves of a shrub until the boy comes into view.

He’s not like the other hunters.

He’s the worst of them.

His dark hair and dark eyes are a clear contrast to the rest of us who are all light.

Carter.

He is Carter.

My grandfather said, “If that dark one even gets close to you? You run, Nathan. You run and you do not stop until you get to the beach and have nowhere else to go.”

So I wait for more kids to get caught. I wait for more noise to cover me.

And then, when I think it’s safe, I run.

I’m standing in front of the house where the nest of girls live. Right by a stone structure that acts as a mailbox when the memory fades. I open the mailbox and shove my hand in, not expecting much, so I’m surprised when I pull out a stack of mail.

My truck is still down the road a piece, so I don’t stop to look at it. Just take it with me. And when I reach the truck, I throw the mail on the passenger seat and leave, heading south towards Old Home.

Because even though I don’t owe her, I still owe her.

I’m not leaving Indie Anna Accorsi in the fucking river while I run away like a coward.

I’ve come too far, I’ve done too much, I’ve lost so many people… it has to mean something.

I will not leave her behind again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - DONOVAN

I dream of her funeral.

It was as unorthodox as a funeral can get, but it was fitting too. She wouldn’t have wanted people to cry, she would’ve wanted them to celebrate. She really believed that this plane we were all living on was just a temporary phase before we transition into something else.

Something bigger.