by Jill Cooper
Chase had no right to be angry with them, they were just kids born at the wrong time into a situation that sucked balls. Truth was, Chase knew he was the one that was supposed to protect them, and he failed—badly.
The moon set, and the night darkened around them. They didn’t dare use their flashlights, or build a fire. That would just attract attention if there were any glistenings left patrolling the night sky.
The rain began to let up some and when Chase gazed up into the trees, he could make out a few stars, tracing their movements through the leaves. They lit the way, as much as possible, and Chase did his best to keep the kids moving.
They were falling behind. “C’mon kids. Just a bit further.”
His call was met with whining and some sniveling. He hoisted one of the smallest kids, Kim, a girl with pigtail braids, onto his back. She clung to his neck and her cheek rest against his shoulder. It was a good thing he had been an endurance trainer back in the day before all this started.
“I’m tired,” she mumbled. A young glistening girl, but so far she was all human. She hadn’t reached the age where glistening signs started to appear. For most, it was tied to puberty.
“We’re almost there.” Chase signaled to Bruce, a sixteen year old human, who could probably keep this up for hours. “Keep the kids together and moving.”
“That’s what you keep saying,” Kim whined and rubbed her face against his shoulder.
Chase’s stomach tightened. He had to find something soon. Realistically, he had pushed the kids as far as they could go. Out in the wilderness, they were sitting ducks—juice packs just waiting to be punctured by strong glistening jaws.
“We need to get you in from the rain, Kim. Just hold on. Go to sleep if you can.” Chase tightened his arms under her legs to keep her from slipping and picked up the pace—a light jog through some underbrush. Green and wet, the moisture wicked against his forehead, and it smelled stale, like the leaves beneath the brush were rotting away.
He held the brush back for everyone else to clear. His eyes greeted Ginny warmly and with concern. For a while, her complexion was flush, but now she was pale and she hadn’t said much in the last half-mile. Her hands were clenched at the backpack straps over her shoulders. Slick with rain, she looked far younger than her nineteen years.
And his feelings for her rather disturbed him.
“You okay?”
She nodded and sucked on her bottom lip, but Chase didn’t miss how it quivered from the cold. “Let’s just keep going. Okay?”
Chase sighed. “Just a bit further.”
“Right,” Ginny said and stared off ahead.
“Do I need to hoist you up onto my back too?”
Ginny laughed and the small smile that graced her face, made Chase’s heart lift. Maybe she wasn’t in such bad shape. “I can make it a bit further, I think.”
“Good.”
Ginny stuck her hand into his rear pocket and they started again. They picked up speed as the kids clustered around. Their clothes were dirty from the mud splatters from the rain. Everyone was tired, hungry, and thirsty. Chase didn’t know what hope there was for them, for any of them.
At least not realistic hope.
But he pushed it from his mind. All he worried about was the next hill—getting through the next clearing. He’d worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Right then, all he wanted to do was get them through that night without their bones being used as toothpicks to clean glistening teeth. If he never saw another glistening in dragon form again, well, Chase would be happy with that.
Chase stopped when his foot hit something that wasn’t grass or mud.
It was wet slick stone against his fingers.
He crouched down low and felt with his fingers, clearing the slick rain away—soft, shiny, and hard.
It was stone. Chase turned down what looked like a stone path with overgrown grass and moss. Off in the distance he saw—could they be so lucky to find a cabin?
“This way,” he said softly to the others. Excited at the prospect of shelter; he fell into a light jog. Ginny fell behind, but Chase knew she’d catch up.
He was right. Appearing right in front of him was the perfect oasis. A cabin in the middle of the woods and from the over grown grass and vines, it was abandoned a long time ago. A wheelbarrow was rusted on its side by the front door and hanging on the old, wood building, a sign reading, ‘Home’, was cracked right in two.
But it’d do for now, for the night.
Get the kids dry and sleep. That was the most important thing.
Chase jimmied the handle. When the door appeared to be stuck, he slammed his shoulder into the hard, red wood. The door slipped open and he grasped the cold doorknob hard in his hand.
“Wait here.” Chase handed Kim to Ginny, who nearly dropped her.
“Careful. You never know what you’ll find in the dark.”
Chase nodded. He stepped inside and the loose floorboard creaked.
The living room wasn’t much, but had a dusty, old sofa covered in handmade blankets in bright red and yellow squares. A small table had coffee cups filled with spider webs and a deck of cards splayed between them. The small kitchen had no running water, but a small stove and the pantry . . . the pantry had canned goods and boxes of crackers.
Long stale, but the kids would love them and they needed to eat something.
A narrow hallway led to two small bedrooms. One was filled with bunk beds and the other had a queen. Not a lot of space, but enough for the kids, and thankfully the place hadn’t been filled with creepy monsters. Instead, it was their sanctuary, at least for one night. Any longer than that and they would be asking for trouble.
Ginny was waiting right inside the threshold as he returned to the living room. Her face was hopeful.
“Get the kids in. We have food and warm beds for tonight.”
For tonight.
A few hours of peace. And tomorrow? Chase would worry about that in the morning.
****
The worry came sooner than Chase planned.
They dined on saltines, peanut butter, and pork n’ beans. Chase found a case of bottled water in the back and when it was all said and done; it felt like a gourmet feast. With full bellies, the kids’ sorrow turned into laughter. Playtime, tickling, and a game of chase led into the bedrooms. Pillow fights and bouncing on mattresses turned into quiet snuggles beneath the covers. While Chase didn’t know what morning would bring, it was a good night—a very good night.
The bedrooms filled, Ginny settled on the sofa, wrapped beneath the afghan blanket. Chase was happy to see that she perked up after food and the rosy color of her cheeks even returned. She watched their lone candle flicker in the dark, while Chase searched through the kitchen cabinets. Under the sink, he found a toolbox and spare parts, which might help him fix the Humvee in the morning.
Beside it, he found a dusty bottle of white wine, still sealed. It might be premature to celebrate, but they might not get another chance. Chase unscrewed the cap—it wasn’t exactly gourmet—and poured some into two glasses he cleaned out with a white, tea towel cloth he found.
In the living room, he handed one to Ginny. He read the surprise on her face with his own raised eyebrows. “You’ve earned it. New set of rules now, Gin.”
She sipped it as he sat beside her and then she scowled. “Thanks. It’s not as sweet as I thought it’d be.”
Chase downed his in one shot. “I’m more of a beer guy, but this stuff works in a pinch.” He poured himself a little more and then offered the bottle to Ginny, but she declined with a shake of her head.
“No, thanks.” She stared ahead, gazing into the flicker of the flame.
Chase glanced into his cup and decided against it, placing it on the coffee table. He studied Ginny’s quiet profile, reflecting on how beautiful she was, now that she had let down her braids. He wished he knew how she felt. All Chase knew was how he felt and being here with her, in a time when he didn’t know what was coming? Pa
rt of him felt stupid, but the other part of him said, what did any of it matter without attachment?
“Sorry I can’t make a fire to warm you. The glistenings, if they’re any out there, they’d smell the smoke. They’d come for us for sure.”
“It’s okay.” Ginny turned and smiled at him. “I’m warm under the blanket and the wine helped. Thank you for what you’ve done for us.”
He grimaced. “I failed. Got the Humvee wrecked and trapped us all here.”
Ginny stroked his hand and just her simple graze was enough to electrify him. “I don’t think you let the glistening grab the Humvee. If it wasn’t for you, he would have taken us God knows where. The kids . . . we’re only alive because you acted so fast.”
Chase raised his eyebrows, conceded her point, but it didn’t make him feel any better. The way she was looking at him though, did make him feel better. He scooted closer to her and Ginny didn’t pull away. Instead, she tucked her knees into her chest and rested her head against his shoulder.
His heart pounded and he wanted to say something big. Be noble, a hero, but Chase didn’t know what he could say, or do that would save them. He could promise to protect her, but it’d be a shallow lie. Chase didn’t know if in the end, he could. He wanted to kiss her, hell, he’d make love to her right then if she’d let him, but it’d be cheap.
He’d had enough of cheap.
So instead, he just sat, rested his head against the top of hers. Ginny’s hair smelled more like rain than anything else, but it could’ve been worse. They could’ve been dead.
In the silence, he watched the candle flicker, the wax dripping down the side, until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.
He slept.
Chase didn’t know how long he slept, but the sleep lasted until the thumping woke him.
****
Thud. Thud.
Rumble.
Chase opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. In the quiet, he held his breath and steadied his arm around Ginny’s sleeping form. Still against him, Chase found sometime during the night, they must have lain down, but he had no memory of it.
He waited and counted silently. Maybe the thud was just thunder, even though the rain had let up. The cold of fall could’ve brought a thunderstorm, right?
Thud. Crunch.
The roof shook and the rafters flexed, dipping toward him. His heart pounded and he blinked the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He was sure a dragon had landed on the roof. Sure as the night was dark.
And then he saw it. The window’s that lined the living room filled with the blue shimmer of a wing, like the glitter of an ocean wave, rolling across the deep. Behind him came the crunch of claws as one landed.
The glistenings, were out in force on a hunt—looking for them.
Inside the cabin that was once an oasis of life, they had become sitting ducks in the waiting game of death.
Chase slowed his pounding heart by taking a long steady breath. “Ginny?” he whispered right against her hairline, his eyes trained along the window.
Her head rolled and she moaned, but her eyes hadn’t opened.
“We got company. Need to roll onto the ground. Need to crawl.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed open and her mouth opened like she might scream. Chase was about to clamp his hand over her mouth, but her blue eyes morphed from fear to resolve. They flashed to the window and Chase saw her emotion play out against her lips.
Stronger than she looked, Ginny rolled down to the ground and Chase followed suit. He kept his eyes trained on her as they army crawled past the sofa and toward the bedrooms. Leaning against the hallway’s wall, were their P90s. Ginny took one and placed the strap over her shoulder as Chase did the same.
He signaled toward one door, then to the next.
But Ginny shook her head. “Someone needs to watch your six,” she whispered. A true solider now.
“Move the kids into one room,” Chase whispered. “Don’t tell them why.”
Ginny nodded that she understood and crawled toward one room as Chase moved toward the other. One of the windows was closed tight with shutters, but the other one was open. Chase stayed low to the ground and crawled beneath it. He unlatched the shutters from the wall and closed them tight along the pane of glass.
Locking it in place, anxiety rose in his chest. If the glistenings knew they were inside, that wouldn’t keep them out, nothing could when they were in dragon form. All Chase could do, was pray the glistenings would move on.
Of all the kids in the cramped room, Kim woke up first. Laying in a twin bed with three other kids, she struggled to sit up. “What’s going on?” She rubbed her eyes with two tight fists.
Chase held a finger to his lips. “We have to stay as quiet as possible. It’s the quiet game, okay?”
“Are the kids in the other room on the other team?”
“Just,” Chase sighed, “be quiet. The timer’s already started.”
Kim’s face puckered like she might cry. Chase felt like a heel, but didn’t say anything, afraid he might make it worse. She was quiet as one by one, each of the kid’s awoke. Chase kept his eyes trained on the door as Ginny and the other kid’s crawled in. She didn’t say anything, but softly closed the door and locked it from the inside.
“Everyone get on the floor,” Ginny whispered. “And go under your blankets. We’re going to play campout hide and seek.”
“Whom are we hiding from?” one of the kids asked. Chase didn’t even know what his name was. All the kids started to blend after a while. All he knew, was they shouldn’t be subjected to this and they were his responsibility.
“The other campers.” Ginny helped the kid’s lay flat and covered them with their blankets.
Chase surveyed the circle of blankets in an array of color. “Nice idea.”
“Our turn.” Ginny held out her blanket and Chase unfolded it, fluffing it up in the air like a parachute. Lying on their stomachs, the cloth came down and covered their bodies softly.
It smelled like mothballs and decades of bonfires, but Chase folded his hands and placed his chin on it.
Now all they had to do was wait.
And listen.
*****
They didn’t have long.
A roar sounded like a pulsating horn through the night sky, alerting others of their position. Shutters banged against the walls. The flapping of wings spawned the wind. Grating tails against the windows. The glistenings didn’t just know they were there, they were in a full feeding frenzy.
The calm of the childhood game Ginny had tried to convince the kids they were playing, gave way to fear. Some of the children were stoic, quiet, and buried their faces in the stale, hard rug. Kim cried; her hands balled into fists while a few others screamed. Everyone knew what was coming.
But, they could do little about it.
Chase glanced at Ginny and saw the fear in her eyes. His fingers drifted over and squeezed hers tight. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
“What do we do?” Ginny asked in a hushed voice.
“If we run . . . we won’t all make it.”
“Run?” Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t even know how many are out there.”
Judging by the sound, there were half a dozen.
“They’ll pick us off one by one,” Ginny continued. “I don’t know why they haven’t just ripped this place apart yet.”
Her words caused a chorus of cries from some of the kids. Chase put his finger to his lips and his glower silenced her. What was she thinking, saying something like that around the kids? “It’s just a matter of time,” he whispered. “They know there’s nowhere we can go. They’re toying with us.”
Everything was silent, except for the whipping wind outside, and claws stomping on the roof. Ginny looked up with fear and she clutched her gun in her hand.
If it had just been them, escape would have been one thing, but with the children . . . how would Chase keep them all moving fast enough? Traveling in a group
would just make picking them off dragon’s play. It’d be like they were a moving target of gazelles for the hungry lion, but if they stayed there, then they would surely all die.
He had to do what was best for the group. They were Chase’s charges, his responsibility—and it weighed on him like a heavy bolder.
“We head to the kitchen. I’ll give you fire cover. Take the kid’s and run.”
“Where? Where are we going to run to?”
“Head for the trees,” Chase said. “Go in deep. It’ll slow their wings down. They’ll lose you.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “And then what? Tomorrow? The day after.”
“I don’t have all the answers, but if you stay here . . .” Chase bit his lip and shook his head.
“And you? What about you?” Ginny asked.
She kept pushing him. Didn’t Ginny see how hard it was for him? “Dammit, we have to do something. We have to try. If we don’t try,” he looked at the scared faces of the kids all around him. The ones that had been entrusted to him. The ones he had failed. “We have to try. Some will break up and follow you. I’ll keep them off your tail as much as I can, but you’re going to have to move fast. Don’t wait for me.”
Chase didn’t want to be the self-sacrificing type, but right then he didn’t see a choice. And Ginny, from how her eyes moistened, knew he wouldn’t catch up with her. Her lip quivered and she quelled it by pressing her jaws tightly together. “All right, we had better move. Bruce . . .”
“I’ll stay here. I have a gun,” Bruce answered with quiet strength.
Chase sighed. “Bruce . . .”
“No buts. You’ll need an extra pair of hands and eyes. I’m staying to help you.”
Extra pairs of eyes were just what he needed, but Chase couldn’t discount the boy’s loyalty. So he nodded. “Let’s get moving then.”
They crawled single file through the house. The windows in the kitchenette and living room were open, giving away a few glimpses of glistening hides as they patrolled around the house. Panic rose in the children, their breath turning from deep breaths to shallow quickening.
