There's Something Out There

by P. J. Night

  Drip.

  “The tent’s waterproof,” Maggie offered, also in a whisper.

  But nothing could change the look on Jenna’s face. Slowly she reached across the tent for Brittany’s flashlight, without saying a word.

  Drip.

  The girls watched as Jenna pointed the flashlight up to the top of the tent.

  Drip.

  Even through the nylon of the tent, everyone could see the viscous liquid falling in single drops and oozing down the side of the tent in a single gory stream.

  Drip.

  Too thick to be water.

  Drip.

  Too dark to be rain.

  Drip.

  “What is—is that—what is that, blood?” Laurel asked haltingly. “What is that?”

  Drip.

  Jenna immediately turned off the lantern.

  “Turn it on!” Brittany said. “Turn it on!”

  “No,” Jenna whispered. “Whatever is out there—we don’t want it to see the light. We don’t want it to see us.”

  Drip.

  “Jenna, why is there blood falling on your tent?” Maggie asked. Her voice was high and tight, straining against hysteria. “We should—I want—we should—”

  “Go inside,” Jenna finished for her. “We have to get into the house. But we have to be smart about this. We have to be—careful. Just—for a minute—listen.”

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  With every drop that fell on the tent, Jenna’s stomach lurched; if she’d eaten more pizza she would’ve thrown up for sure. But, as sickening as the drops were, they were all she could hear: no rustling in the bushes, no crackling of twigs. And, perhaps most hopeful of all—no scratching.

  Drip.

  “Okay,” Jenna finally whispered. “When I count to three, we’ll all—slowly—get out of the tent and—slowly—walk back to the house. As quietly as”—Drip—“we can. Understand?”

  “Yes,” chorused the other girls in a whisper.

  Drip.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Slowly, and as silently as possible, Jenna unzipped the mesh door of the tent. One by one, her friends slipped out into the darkness, until Jenna was the only one left.

  Drip.

  But when it came time for Jenna to venture into the night, she lost the will to leave.

  Go, she told herself. Go. It’s not safe here. This tent can’t protect you. So go. Go.

  Somehow she found the courage to step out of the tent. And then, suddenly, she had the urge to turn on the lantern. To take a closer look at the blood.

  She didn’t fight it.

  The beam of the light cut through the darkness. Jenna stepped toward the side of the tent, where the blood was now flowing in several streams.

  “Jenna!” one of her friends called from the woods. “What are you doing?”

  She didn’t answer. She squinted her eyes as she peered at the tent and gave thanks that it was too dark for her friends to see her reach out and touch the blood. It glistened red and sticky on her finger.

  She would never quite understand what compelled her to do what she did next.

  Jenna raised her finger to her nose and smelled it.

  For the briefest instant, she frowned in confusion. The liquid on her finger didn’t smell metallic like blood. It smelled … sweet. Suddenly she started to laugh. “This isn’t blood,” she called to her friends. “It’s syrup. With, like, food coloring in it. Jason! Where are you, you loser? I know what you did, Jason! I know what you did!”

  Jenna swung the lantern around wildly, trying to spot her brother hiding in the bushes or behind a tree. There was no way Jason would miss this moment, she knew. No way.

  It didn’t take her long to find him, crouched on a tree branch right above the tent, holding a sports bottle filled with the gory liquid. He was red-faced and shaking with silent laughter. As he jumped down from the tree, Jenna was so angry she was about to scream, but Jason started talking first.

  “My sister, brave enough to touch blood!” he yelled, holding up his hand for a high five. “Jenna, that was hard-core. I didn’t know you had it in you! I have to say I’m impressed.”

  As he doubled over with laughter, the other girls came back to the tent, wearing goofy grins of relief.

  “What is your problem, Jason?” Jenna exploded. “What’s the matter, you don’t have any friends of your own? This is your idea of a fun Friday night, trying to scare me and my friends?”

  “Oh, there was no trying about it,” Jason said, still laughing. “I wish I had a video camera so you could see how terrified you guys were, crawling out of the tent like the Marked Monster was about to swoop down and eat you or something!”

  One by one, the other girls started to laugh—except for Jenna.

  “Come on, Jenna, you have to admit that was an awesome prank,” Brittany said. “Right?”

  “Thank you,” Jason said, holding up his hand to high-five Brittany—and accidentally brushing against Jenna’s left arm. She gasped in pain and reflexively turned away, trying to hold her injured arm close.

  “Give it a rest, Jenna,” Jason said in annoyance. “I barely touched you! And Mom isn’t here, so your overreacting isn’t going to get me in trouble this time.”

  Jenna didn’t respond.

  “Thank God that wasn’t real blood, right?” Maggie asked. “That would’ve been sick.”

  “You guys really thought that was funny?” Jenna asked her friends. “You weren’t laughing when we were in the tent.”

  “Oh, lighten up!” Brittany said, making a face. Then she turned to Jason. “She’s been in this bad mood all evening. Don’t worry about her. I thought it was hilarious.”

  Jason stopped laughing and looked closely at Jenna. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, pushing her blond hair behind her ears. “What’s wrong?”

  Jason shook his head. “That’s what I’m asking you. You seem … weird.”

  “I’m fine,” Jenna said, more forcefully than she meant. “Honestly, you’re the weird one, hanging out in a tree with a bottle of fake blood.”

  Everyone laughed again, but Jason continued to look at Jenna in a way that unsettled her. She tossed her head defiantly as she marched back to the tent and ducked inside.

  There, away from her friends and her brother, she pressed her cold hands to her face. Her cheeks were burning. She didn’t know if it was the stress of Jason’s prank, or just the aftereffects of a sleepless week, but Jenna had never felt sicker in her life, except for that time in fifth grade when she’d had the flu. What is wrong with me? she asked as she rubbed her temples.

  Not even in the secret-most place of her mind could Jenna admit it, but in her heart, she couldn’t shake the fear that she was poisoned like Imogen Lewis. She could almost feel the venom of the Marked Monster pumping through her veins, slipping into her cells, making her sick, making her crazy.

  Stupid, she told herself, shaking her head. Shut up.

  “Jenna? Are you talking to yourself?” Jason asked, poking his head into the tent.

  I was talking? Jenna wondered. Aloud?

  “No,” she shot back. “I was talking to you.”

  Jason pushed his way into the tent, followed by Jenna’s friends. His eyes never left her face.

  “Seriously, go,” Jenna said to him. “Leave us alone.”

  “Actually, I kind of want to stay,” Jason replied. “Who knows—could get interesting, if the Marked Monster shows up.”

  “Well, we don’t want you to stay,” Jenna began.

  Brittany cut her off. “It’s cool with me, Jenna.”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind,” Laurel spoke up. “For a little while, anyway.”

  As Jenna’s best friend, Maggie knew better than to say anything. Jenna just shook her head in frustration as Jason picked up Brittany’s dad’s camera.

  “Wow, this is sweet,” he said. “Where did you get this?”

 
; “It’s my dad’s,” Brittany said, smiling at Jason in a way that made her look ridiculous. “Want to try it out?”

  “Can I?” he asked eagerly.

  As Brittany showed Jason how to adjust the settings on the camera, Maggie caught Jenna’s eye and made a face like she was blowing kisses. Jenna responded by pretending to stick her finger down her throat. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Brittany had a little crush on Jason, but she wasn’t usually so obvious about it.

  Suddenly Jenna heard it: the scratching. Almost a whole day had passed without her hearing that terrible noise, but now it was back. A chill of fear rippled over her skin, and she shivered.

  “Shhhhh!” she whispered loudly, holding up one hand.

  At the wild, feverish look in her eyes, everyone obeyed.

  “You hear that, right?” Jenna asked hoarsely. “You hear it? The scratching?”

  Desperately she looked from face to face, but all she saw were blank stares.

  “I’m not crazy, I’m not, I’m not,” Jenna babbled. “Just listen. Listen. You’ll hear it, you have to hear it—”

  “Jenna, quiet,” Jason said suddenly.

  Jenna held her breath, hardly daring to hope—

  “I heard something,” he said.

  Please, Jason, don’t make fun of me, Jenna thought. Not now. Not about this.

  “Me too,” Brittany spoke up.

  “Scratching?” Jenna asked.

  Jason shook his head. “No, like rustling. Like there’s something—something in the bushes.”

  “Was it—” Laurel began at the same time as Maggie said, “I didn’t hear—”

  “Everybody shut up,” Jason ordered. “I want to listen.”

  In the silence, in the tent, in the middle of the Sacred Square, the darkness had physical qualities that seemed new and strange to Jenna. It was heavy; it was pushing her down, down, or the earth was rising up to swallow her. She grasped the edges of her sleeping bag so that she could have something to hold on to.

  When the rustling came again, there was no question that everyone heard it. And there was no question that there was something in the bushes—something alive.

  Suddenly the entire tent shuddered, as if some unseen force had rushed into it, had tried to rip it from the stakes that held it to the ground. The nylon flaps shuddered and were still.

  “What was that?” Jason asked sharply.

  The fear rising in Jenna made her dizzy. This was no prank; this was no pesky brother; this was something alive, something sinister, just outside the tent; something that had run out of patience; that would wait not a moment longer to claim its due—

  Jenna’s cry broke the silence. “It’s here. It’s here. The Marked Monster. It’s come for me.”

  Her fear spread quicker than fire. It filled the tent like smoke until the other girls were choked with it.

  “Jenna, keep it together,” Jason snapped. “There’s no such thing as the Marked Monster, okay?”

  Jenna wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth, back and forth. If he knew—if only he knew—

  Well, she realized. I can show him. Then he’ll know.

  Jenna grabbed a huge flashlight—a heavy-duty industrial one that belonged to Maggie’s dad, a plumber—and crept over to the entrance to the tent. “Jason,” she croaked, “come over here. Come see.”

  Jason was at her side in an instant.

  “Don’t do it, Jenna, don’t open the tent!” Maggie begged.

  Jenna and Jason exchanged a glance, and Jenna knew that they were in complete agreement. Whatever was out there, they were going to see it. “I’ll open the flap, you hold the light,” Jason whispered. “And I’ll try to take a picture. Okay?”

  Jenna nodded. This was it.

  The metal teeth of the zipper made an agonizing ripping sound as Jason tried to unzip the tent as quietly as possible. When the door flapped open and Jason, crouching low, held up the camera, Jenna knew it was time.

  She pushed the rubber button on the flashlight and swung a blinding beam into the darkness just outside the tent. It was hard to see what exactly stood there, just feet from the tent—but the eyes, oh, the eyes. … If she survived this night, Jenna knew that she would never forget those eyes, red and glittery in the darkness, hovering ten feet above the ground.

  The camera flashed, the … thing … howled, and Jenna, in her fear, dropped the flashlight. There was another thundering rustle through the bushes. By the time Jenna scrambled to pick up the flashlight, the … thing … was gone.

  Jason yanked his sister back into the tent and zipped the door closed. His face was paler than she’d ever seen it before.

  “You saw it?” Jenna whispered. “You saw the Marked Monster?”

  He looked away. “I saw something. I don’t know it was the Marked Monster. It was something.”

  “Then what was it?” Jenna asked him.

  He shrugged. “Maybe it was a squirrel?”

  “Too big.”

  “A raccoon?”

  “Do raccoons even climb trees?” Jenna shot back.

  “Yes! Don’t they?”

  “How would I know what raccoons do? Do I look like someone who knows anything about raccoons?”

  “Guys?” Laurel spoke up tentatively. “Did you get a picture?”

  Jason started scrolling through the camera. “I tried,” he said. “Let me see … yeah … it’s, well, this—”

  The girls crowded around the camera’s tiny digital screen. Jason had managed to snap a picture, but it only showed the animal’s eyes. There was a soullessness in them; a hungry emptiness in those eyes that struck the heart with fear.

  One thing was certain: That was no squirrel. But the picture was so dark, there was no way to tell what it really was.

  “I, uh, I don’t want to camp out anymore,” Brittany said bluntly. “You were right, Jenna. This is too freaky. I’m going in.”

  “Me too,” Laurel chimed in.

  But Jenna shook her head. “I have to see this through,” she said. “If that’s the Marked Monster, I have to get proof. Real proof. I have to know.”

  “I’ll stay,” Jason told her. “I’ll see it through with you.”

  “So will I,” added Maggie.

  For a moment, Brittany looked like she regretted her announcement that she was going back to the house. Then she stood up and said, “Well, we shouldn’t split up. That’s just stupid.”

  “I’m not going in,” Jenna said stubbornly. “Not until we know what’s out there.”

  “I can’t stay out here!” Laurel cried suddenly. “What’s wrong with you guys? Things are really, really freaky. It’s not safe out here!”

  Maggie held up her hands. “Look. Let’s not overreact,” she said. “Jason’s probably right that it was just a raccoon or something. Or a possum. So Laurel and Brittany, if you guys want to go back to the house, you should. We’ll be there soon.”

  “Come on, Laurel,” Brittany said after a long silence. “Good luck, you guys. Don’t stay out here long. Seriously—don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Be careful,” Jenna whispered as Brittany and Laurel stepped out of the tent into the night.

  Then they were gone.

  “So,” Maggie said, her voice shaky, “what do we do now?”

  “We get ready,” Jenna replied. She turned to her brother. “Jason—the camera—can you set it up better? So we can take a better picture?”

  “I, uh, I think so,” Jason said as he fiddled with the camera’s settings. “I mean, I’ll do my best.”

  “And when that’s ready, we wait,” Jenna replied.

  “For what?” asked Maggie.

  “For the Marked Monster to return.”

  “But Jenna,” Maggie said, “how do you know it will come back?”

  Jenna shut her eyes; saw those hungry, empty eyes; heard the scratching. Always, the scratching. “It will.”

  They waited in tortured silence for five minutes, ten, fifteen.


  But nothing happened.

  “That thing knows we’re here,” Jason finally said. “I don’t know why it hasn’t come back. Unless we scared it—with the light—and the noise—”

  “It’s not afraid,” Jenna said. “It is not afraid. Not of us.”

  “Maybe you should call it,” Maggie suggested.

  Jenna and Jason turned to her with questions in their eyes.

  “You know,” Maggie continued. “Like at the sleepover last week. That noise you made—when you told that story. You know.”

  Slowly Jenna started to nod. “Yeah,” she said. “I could call it. We could get ready to take a picture and I could call it here. And then we could—we would—”

  “We would know,” Jason finished for her.

  Nothing more needed to be said. They stepped out of the tent into the silent clearing. Wispy clouds scuttled across the moon, casting eerie shadows that filled the Sacred Square with moving patches of light, as if the shadows themselves had come to life and started creeping across the ground. Jenna watched her brother fiddle with the camera’s settings one last time. She felt an odd detachment from the people around her, as if she were preparing herself to say good-bye.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Ready,” he replied.

  Jenna steadied herself and made the call:

  “Aiiiii-ck-ck-ck-ck!”

  Again:

  “Aiiiii-ck-ck-ck-ck!”

  Silence.

  They waited.

  The silence—Too quiet, Jenna thought, too quiet in these woods; no sounds, no noise, nothing, it’s too quiet—stretched all around them.

  A tentative smile flitted across her lips. “Maybe it was a raccoon,” she whispered. “In the trees.”

  “Call again,” Jason encouraged her.

  “Yeah, just one more time,” Maggie replied. “And then we’ll go in. We’ll know. As much as we ever could, anyway.”

  Jenna nodded, though her throat was dry and raspy from making that awful sound. She took a deep breath and made, for the last time in her life, the call:

  “Aiiiii-ck-ck-ck-ck!”

  That was it. They’d gone into the woods and they’d tried to find the Marked Monster. They’d failed. And that was okay. Jenna smiled in the darkness, knowing that this would turn into a story she and her friends would tell for years, tell until it lost all the fear and became funny. She could see it so clearly, the four of them sitting up late at night, howling with laughter until their sides ached.