Ghost Hand (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 21, The Best Laid Plans

In the dark we hiked, silent, dressed in black, and full of nervous energy. Marcus led the way, with me behind him. Then came Nose, and Yale brought up the rear. We'd spent the entire afternoon setting up a new camp and going over our plan, refining it, coming up with alternatives in case this or that went wrong. After an early dinner of canned stew heated on a camp stove, it was time to start the long hike into town. The wheelers were too loud and hard to hide, plus they limited our escape routes to wider roads and paths. On foot, Marcus had assured us, we could melt in and out of the landscape.

My head still throbbed a little, but I'd taken some pain killer right before we'd left. It was slow going tramping through thick, uncut underbrush. We'd taken a route far from Old Delarente Road in case the CAMFers were still using it.

Suddenly, in front of me, Marcus made an "oofing" noise and his flashlight went sailing, end over end, through the air. There was a heavy thud, and a lighter one off in the distance as the flashlight landed and flicked out. I crouched in the dark, my own flashlight tucked in toward my body. I couldn't see Marcus in front of me anymore. Were we under attack? Had he been ambushed by waiting CAMFers?

"What was that?" Nose whispered from behind me.

"I don't know," I whispered back.

"I tripped on a log," Marcus groaned from a few feet away. "These damn flashlights are too dim. I didn't even see it."

"So much for melting into the landscape," Nose chuckled softly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, shining my flashlight in Marcus's direction. By the scowl on his face as he sat up from behind a rather large log, I hadn't kept the laughter out of my question.

"Don't shine that in my eyes," he barked, shaking leaves out of his hair.

I lowered the beam.

"We need more light," he said, standing up and stepping carefully back over the log. "If we could see better, we could move faster." He glanced down not-so-subtly at my gloved hand.

"Fine," I said, starting to take off my glove, but then I stopped and looked at Nose. And at Yale behind him. I wasn't the only one with glow-in-the-dark parts anymore. With everything that had happened, I hadn't had a chance to ask Yale and Nose about their PSS, let alone have some show-and-tell. But if Marcus was asking me to whip out my ghost hand, maybe it was time. "Why me?" I asked, turning back to Marcus. "Why not one of them?"

"I will, if you will." Nose smiled, his ski mask wrinkling at his cheeks.

"It's a deal," I said. I was finally going to get to see someone else's PSS.

Nose reached up and pulled off his mask in one quick tug.

I couldn't help but stare. Bright, blue, beautiful PSS shone like a beacon smack out of the middle of his face. It illuminated his ebony skin, and dark brown eyes, bathing his short black hair in shades of blue. But it was also disturbing, the way you felt like you were looking straight into his head. In the depths of his PSS nose, you could see where the small dark tunnels of his sinuses began, making you wonder just how far back it all went. It wasn't gross or anything, not any grosser than my wrist stump. But it wasn't normal either.

Nose turned his head, showing off his profile and the wonderful nose he'd formed for it. As I watched, the nose changed shapes— a Roman nose, a hawkish nose, a bulbous nose, and finally the hooked nose of a witch, complete with a bumpy wart on the end.

"Show off," Yale mumbled under his breath.

"Very nice, but we're kind of in a hurry here," Marcus added.