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“Freeze!”
Tom’s sharp whisper cut through the air and rooted everyone in place.
Thirty yards up the path Tom stood in a half crouch, his right hand raised to grip the handle of his katana. Fifty yards behind them Nix and Lilah were in the middle of the road. Nix had her bokken out; Lilah held her spear ready in a two-handed grip.
“What is it?” Benny whispered, but Tom held up a finger, cautioning him to be silent. On either side of them trees rose in dark columns to form a canopy that obscured most of the sunlight, allowing only stray beams to slant down. At ground level the shrubs and wild plant life clustered so densely around the tree trunks that they formed an impenetrable wall; Benny could see nothing of what might be coming toward them. He and Chong drew their bokkens and shifted to stand with their backs to each other, just as Tom had taught them.
Lilah came running along the path on silent cat feet, with Nix a few yards behind. The Lost Girl had a fierce light in her eyes as she slowed to a stop beside Tom, making sure to stand well clear of his sword arm.
“What is it?” she hissed. “The dead?”
Tom shook his head but said nothing.
Nix joined Benny and Chong, and the three of them shifted into a three-sided combat formation.
“You see anything?” Nix whispered.
“No,” said Chong. “Don’t hear anything either.”
It was true; the forest was as silent as the grave, an image that did not make Benny feel very good. He sniffed the air. The forest offered up a thousand scents. Flowers and tree bark and rich soil and …
And what?
There was a smell on the air. Faint but getting stronger.
“Can you guys smell that?” Benny murmured.
“Uh-huh,” said Nix. “Smells weird. Kind of familiar … but not really.”
Lilah raised her spear and pointed into the woods with the gleaming blade. “There,” she said. “It’s coming toward us.”
“What is it?” Nix asked in a frightened whisper.
Tom drew his katana. “Get ready.”
“To do what?” demanded Benny. “Fight or run?”
“We’re about to find out,” said Tom.
“Please,” murmured Chong, “don’t let it be zoms. Don’t let it be zoms.”
“No,” said Tom, “it’s not the dead. Whatever’s coming is very much alive.”
Benny and the others heard it then. A crunch as something heavy stepped down on fallen twigs, the sound muffled by the nearly decayed carpet of last year’s leaves. A moment later there was another sound, different, low and strange. Benny and Nix exchanged a look. She raised her eyebrows.
“Sounds like a bull,” she said.
Benny frowned. “Out here?”
“Lots of animals running wild out here,” said Tom. “This was farm country before First Night.”
The sound came again, deeper and louder.
“Awful big bull,” Chong said.
There was more of the twig
crunching, and each time the sound was louder and closer.
