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Chapter1
“Pale Tongue”
–Darko
We’renot supposedto go to the creek by ourselves, so convincing my big brother to go out to the back of the property with me isn’ttechnicallybreaking the rules.Although,Robbiebeing so excited to sneak off should have been a warning.
It’sweird now thatGrandmaandGrandpa’shouse is ours.Wespend a ton of time out here, though, so moving from the city to the country won’t be too much of a shock.Butnot seeingGrandpaaround anymore makes my heart hurt.
Noclouds or wind on thisJulyday means it’s extra hot, andIalready regret coming out here.ButIoverheardMomandDadtalking to people at our new church about the bridge over the creek.Theysaid my grandparents destroyed it ages ago, butIwant to see where it used to stand.
OneofSanAntonio’sDevil’sBridgesin our own backyard…
Robbie’sfootsteps crunch over dry and crispy grass behind me.Everythingis dead inJuly, burned to a crisp and desperate for any taste of rain, but there won’t be any untilSeptember.Untilthen, we bear the weight of the sun withSPF, sunglasses, and a strongACunit.
Andyet,Ihear the faint rush of water.
Throughthe glare of the sun and the barren mesquite limbs, a wooden structure appears ahead.
Irush forward excitedly, leaving my brother behind.
Whenthe trees clear, the bridge appears—and a dark figure stands on it.
Myfeet come to an immediate halt.
Somethingis wrong with his face.
Iblink and blink and blink, trying to bat the shadows away, but they’re stuck where a man’s face should be looking back at me, hiding in inky darkness except for the glint of a sharp grin.
ThemiddayTexassun beats down on us in the clearing and reveals how old and rickety the bridge is over the creek.ButIcan’t see the face of the man standing on it, watching me, silently calling for me with the curling of his pointer finger.
Sournesschurns in my stomach asIglance over my shoulder, wondering ifRobbieis close behind.
He’snot there.Buthe should’ve been right behind me…
Woodcreaks on the bridge.
Myeyes cut to the man’s shadowy face again.Hemust be sweating buckets in all those black clothes soaking up the sunlight, from his black boots to his leather gloves and cowboy hat.
Hecurls his finger at me again, taking a step backward on the bridge.
Iswallow the growing unease and, hesitantly, move forward toward the scent of sulfur.
“Steph, no!”
Chapter2
“Exist”
–Separations
Oxygenfloods my lungs,infusing new life into me asIclutch my chest and gasp more deeply thanIever have.Theair burns asIbolt upright on cool concrete.
Armssurround me from behind.
Ijab an elbow into their ribs to make them disappear and scramble away from the bodies surrounding me.Idon’t stop until my back hits the concrete sides.
I’mstill breathing in life asIglare atZak,Adrian, andShannon.
