Page 8 of The Wild Zone

I knew drakon was Greek for dragon, and that the thing in front of us was one of the large, cherry-flavored variety.

“Go, go!” Grant told me—also unnecessary. I was already sprinting into the briars.

I ran—maybe a quarter mile? I was so rattled, I lost my bearings on my mental grid. The thornbushes clawed at my jeans and slashed my arms, and the tree branches seemed determined to whack me in the face as many times as possible. But I kept running. I only stopped when I heard Grant grunt and crash to the ground behind me.

“Whoa!” I backtracked and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” He struggled into a sitting position, wincing as he massaged his right ankle. “Just wasn’t expecting a massive crack in the forest floor.”

A massive what?

I’m not sure how I’d missed it. I must’ve jumped right over it.

Even at nighttime, the crack was big enough to be noticed by anyone who wasn’t running for their lives. It was actually more like an earthquake fissure, zigzagging across the ground as far as I could see in either direction. Did Long Island even have earthquakes? I peered into the crevice, but I couldn’t tell how deep it went. All I knew was that I wanted to get away from it.

“Can you put weight on your ankle?” I asked Grant. “We have to move.”

“Yeah, I…Wait a minute.” He brought his face closer to the fissure. “There’s something down there.”

“Oh, geez, Grant, no. That’s how ninety percent of killer-worm movies start!”

Grant smirked and dropped onto his stomach.

Then he reached into the fissure with his (for the moment) perfectly attached arm.

I waited for something terrible to happen. My chili-cheese-dog dinner felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my throat. “Grant, please—”

“I think…I’ve got…” His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, and he narrowed his eyes. “Almost…”

I pressed my hands to my cheeks. “If it wriggles, just let go,” I whispered.

“AHH!” Grant tumbled backward, clutching his hand. I screeched and jabbed at the fissure with my broken arrow to fend off whatever had attacked him.

To my surprise, Grant rolled over and laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I’m fine. Just messing with you.”

I huffed with eyes narrowed. “Not funny. There is nothing funny happening in this forest. Why did you stick your hand in that death hole?”

Grant sat up and held out a gorgeous silver ring studded with sapphires. “Got something for you.”

“No. Way.” I snatched the ring from him and gawked at it. It glistened in the moonlight, the sapphires glowing like ice-blue comets.

This ring was clearly special. The gems were flawless. The settings all looked slightly different, like they’d been handcrafted. The hammered silver band felt heavy, cold, and strangely satisfying to rub between my fingers.

It was probably ancient. Just holding it made me feel special. So what was a treasure like this doing in a fissure in the Wild Zone? And more importantly…

I cleared my throat. “What else is in the death hole?”

Grant grinned. He knelt beside the fissure, but before he could plunge his arm in for a second fishing expedition, a high-pitched shriek shattered the night. It came from somewhere behind us, but it didn’t sound like a kalamodonta or a drakon. It sounded angry, vengeful. And it sounded close.

My mouth went dry. “Um…any monster-repellent in there?” I whispered.

Grant straightened. “You know, maybe we should keep moving.”

I helped him to his feet. I hefted his arm around my shoulder, but he only managed to hobble a few steps before his ankle gave way. He pitched forward and I barely managed to keep him from face-planting.

CRRAAACK!

About twenty feet behind us, a broken branch as thick as my leg hit the ground, sending up plumes of dried leaves and dirt. I glanced overhead, looking for the source.