AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oof. Yeah, when we were kids, we’d have totally tried that.”
“He was thirty-six.”
We climb up and balance on a rafter.
“The boards can be replaced,” I say. “I did leave a few.” I point to the shadows. “They’re over there, where I hide some of the outdoor stuff.” I raise my voice. “Hear that, Sadie? If you found my cubbyhole, we’re coming to pull you out.”
When I start to crawl over, Kit lays a hand on my ankle.
“May I?” he says, with a look that adds a “please.”
I hesitate. Like Jayla said, my default response is “I’ve got it.”
I’m fine. I can handle this. Nope, I got it. Thanks, though.
If Sadie has blown up my boats, then I’m not dealing with the teenage girl who’d badmouthed me behind my back and cost me every friend except Jayla… and, apparently, eventually Jayla, too. No, asshitty as that was, it pales compared to this, and I can’t be the fool who throws herself into the line of fire when she’s the primary target.
I nod and move onto a side beam to let Kit pass. When I fall in behind him, he stops so suddenly that I death-grip the beam before I fall.
“You smell that?” he says.
I don’t, not until he continues on and I move into the spot he vacated. Then the smell hits and a memory flashes. A memory from last night, picking up this same smell and dismissing it as a dead animal, only to discover—
I detour around Kit, taking another beam, even as he says, “Hey!”
I reach the storage spot. Not only have I made it hard to access, but I’ve blocked it in with plastic bins bearing labels likeCANNED BEANSandOLD TOWELSto further throw renters off the scent of hidden treasure. I yank out the “towel” box, which is empty. The stink of decomposition fills my mouth and nose, and I double over, gagging.
Coming from another angle, Kit gently picks up a box, only to realize it’s empty and shove it aside. Our flashlight beams converge on a spot where someone has pushed away the expensive deck chairs that I store up here. In the middle of that space, there’s a heap of what looks like hair.
No, it’s fur. Lumps of fur and decomposing flesh and bloodied bone with whip-like tails.
“Are those rats?” Kit says.
Holding my breath, I move closer as Kit does the same. It takes me a moment to figure out what I’m seeing. There’s so much fur and bone and gore that my brain decides this is clearlynota rat. And it isn’t. It’ssixrats, their decomposing bodies arranged in a circular pattern. In the middle of that circle? Their tails, knotted together.
“What the hell?” he whispers.
“Rat king,” I say before backing up fast and twisting to get fresher air.
I take a moment to breathe with my hands over my nose and mouth, inhaling the smell of s’mores and hot cocoa instead.
When I turn back to Kit, I say, “The story goes that rat tails can get knotted together. The result—all these conjoined rats—form a ‘rat king.’”
“It’s not true then. Just a story?”
“Depends on who’s telling it. There are lots of supposed cases from medieval times, especially in Germany, but they might be hoaxes. It’s never been observed in the wild. At least, not in a way that proves the knotting came naturally.”
“Well, this one didn’t,” he says. “Unless this ‘rat king’ happened to die in a ritualistic circle.”
I look over to see a circle scorched into the wood.
“Have you even seen rats on the island?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Then we’ve found another piece of staging.”
I look at the grotesque spectacle. With a shudder, I start to turn away when—
