February 29

Chapter 10

They took people. Stacey found out that much before the sun was swallowed beneath the earth in a straight vertical line, the dark circle covering it as it moved. Whether they lured people, killed people, or just set them on fire, somehow it ended with a charred corpse on the ground or both dog and person vanishing in thin air. She'd watched one lady get caught. She was just strolling, calling "David!" out into the night, when one of them, in human silhouette form, appeared. She didn't notice it at first, only after it had its tendrils for arms around her. After that, all she'd managed was one high pitched scream before she suddenly didn't exist anymore. It was almost like someone had clicked on her avatar on a computer and then hit "delete." One second there, next second gone. Stacey could guess that it was somehow psychological too. She'd seen kids start talking to walls, walking towards them, and suddenly disappear right before her eyes. Grown-ups would run towards dogs as if they were their long lost pets or something. It didn't matter what form they were in - human, dog, bird, bug, cat. They just caught people and flashed out of existence.

Where they took them, Stacy had no idea. She just hoped to God that that was where her father was. She hoped that he wasn't dead. She'd definitely hoped that he was just transported, not killed. Because if he was, that meant she could find him.

But hoping didn't do much, if you thought about it. It didn't get food for you. It didn't make people any more welcoming to a girl who needed a place to sleep, food to eat. It didn't give her a shelter. Most of all, it didn't open the doors to the homeless shelter, the place she'd been trying to avoid but had no choice but to go anyway. When she'd gotten there, the door was barred shut, and no amount of pushing or pulling could get it open. One light was on in one of the windows, the oily the smell of chicken noodle soup and bread drifting from a vent. Laughter, the choked garbled sound of Frank Sinatra on a radio. But no matter hard she knocked, how loud she screamed, no one came to open the door. She'd finally given up and just started wandering aimlessly around the town, peeking into familiar, ransacked shops, hoping to find food. She did find a Snickers bar though.

She had nowhere to go but to wherever her gut told her that her father was. And then sun fell to the enemy finally and night started to infest the area. The moon was nowhere in sight. Streetlamps turned on, and Stacey realized that she'd be forced to find a place to stay.

And right then, Stacey stumbled up the highway, her legs feeling like lead after walking all the way from the neighborhood to the interstate. It was disturbingly empty; everyone who'd had a car ditched the small home area and fled to the city. She could barely keep her eyes open from exhaustion, and her limbs were sore. She was awfully hungry even after devouring the Snickers, but she'd left her wallet in her room, probably burned to crisps now. Nothing worked. The houses she'd visited hadn't showed any mercy by offering a meal. It seemed that everyone thought that everyone else was a threat. After seeing the dogs turn into people and take others away, no one was sure who was who anymore. No food for her.

Stacey lost her footing and fell face first onto the hard ground, freezing from the cold. Her breath came in fast, short puffs, suddenly worn out from the long walk. Stacey tried to ignore the horrible pains in her stomach, knowing that if she didn't get any food soon, it would grow much, much worse. She got up to her hands and knees and began to crawl away. If she stayed on the ground, those things would take her. They'd take her along with everyone else, and...and something bad would happen. She knew just knew it. She was definitely not going to run up to one of the black forms and try to hug it.

She crawled to the edge of the road, onto the softer grass. She crawled inland far enough so that if a car suddenly came swerving, it would miss her. She buried her head in her hands, her mind swimming form overexertion. If she pulled her limbs close enough to her body, she could make some kind of warmth, better than nothing. Stacey closed her eyes slowly and tried to sleep. Images of her father, his smiling, slightly bearded face, his chocolate brown eyes. His hands as he rolled Monopoly dice, the way he'd give that hopeful glance at the board when he let them go, and the amused yet loving face he'd give whenever he beat her. A tear fell down her cheek. She hoped he was alive. If he wasn't, she didn't know how she would cope, who she would run to. She didn't want to go to her mother. Not to Gabriella and her stepfather. She wanted her dad.

Then something sparked in her. When she'd searched the house, after it burned, she didn't find his body. That meant that he hadn't burned in there. That was the only way he could have died. The only way. And if he hadn't died that way, that meant he hadn't died at all. He was still alive, taken by that giant dog. Stacey scrunched her eyebrows in determination. She promised on her life that she would find him, dead or alive. She promised that she would save him.

But before that, she'd need some sleep.