Page 24

Three.

“Come on!” Mariah grabs my hand and pulls me into a run. We barely make it to the end of the row before a Reaper bursts through the corn ahead of us. Then another steps out beside him.

“SHIT!”

We skid to a stop and turn, only for a third Reaper to appear behind us, blocking the way we came.

Mariah screams and I burst out laughing.

We’re fucking trapped. “GO BACK!”

We make a break for the narrow opening between the first two, but a hand shoots out and catches Mariah around the waist. She screams my name as I keep running.

“Sorry!”

“BITCH!” Her laughter follows me as I disappear around the corner.

Now, I’m alone.

I take the first left I see, cut right at the next opening, then another right, moving too fast to keep track of where the hell I’m going.

The drums follow me through the corn, growing louder with every turn.

One.

Two.

Three.

My lungs burn. My thighs ache. My sweater keeps slipping down my shoulder. I slow to a walk. “Okay.” I suck in air. “Bride needs a fucking minute.”

A low whistle comes from behind me and I stop.

Not the three-note signal from earlier. This one is different.

Slow—Almost musical.

I turn.

Nothing… no one.

“Hello?”

Another whistle. Ahead this time.

I smile despite myself. “Tall guy?”

Nothing.

I move forward.

The corn opens into a small clearing where a scarecrow hangs from a wooden crossbeam, dressed in an old black dress that shifts softly around the straw poking from its sleeves. A burlap sack covers its head, making it look a little more unsettling than the dozens I passed earlier, but I assume it’s just another part of the Hunt.

Very original.

I walk past then stop.

There’s a red ribbon around its wrist.