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Chapter 4

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36 HOURS UNTIL EXTRACTION 


We hobbled to the bus stop just as the bus was pulling up. The driver raised an eyebrow when I shouldered Alison onto the bus. I paid our fare and we hurried to the back. Groaning, Alison slumped in the plastic seat near the window, and I eased myself down next to her, pain searing my nerves like a blowtorch. The bus was empty, so the concerned driver kept eyeing us in the rearview mirror.

"Something happen to you kids?" he asked.

Alison cradled her ribs with one arm and sat up. "No."

"Do you need to go to the police or the hospital?"

"No, we'll be fine," she said, ire bubbling up in her voice like groundwater.

"Alison," I whispered, "they almost killed us. We need to go to the cops."

"I don't want to, J!"

I didn't push it. Luckily, Alison's nosy grandma was already asleep when we crept into her house. I shouldered her all the way up to her room. She collapsed onto her bed. I went into her bathroom and rolled some tissue around my hand, then I sat on the bed next to her, dabbing blood off my nose.

I looked down at the wad of bloody tissue in my hand. "I need to get home."

She grabbed my arm. "Stay." Limping back into her bathroom, I flipped on the light and gave myself a scan in the mirror. My hair was matted with blood, my lips swollen. The pain in my head was already dying down, though. Maybe it was that extra vitamin C Alison had been telling me to take every morning. I turned on the faucet, splashed my face, then pressed a towel to my skin, hoping to wipe off the dried blood, but the coarse cotton stung. Leaving the bathroom, I texted my dad, told him I was staying over at Ali's, and slumped into bed next to her.

I found myself in a darkened hallway in my school. Time moved like molasses, and I heard something ticking. Swaying from side to side, I waded forward and spotted a black cat sitting atop a locker. It hopped down, scratched itself with a hind leg, and sauntered away. Following the cat, I slogged through the syrupy air. It turned its head and looked at me with shining yellow eyes, then behind me, I heard a slimy noise, like churning clay. Spinning around, I saw shadowy pools forming on lockers, floors, ceilings. Black tentacles sprang from the inky blots and reached for whatever they could snatch. Abyssal pools opened up everywhere, closer and closer to me. I ran, but I couldn't escape the shadowy masses. They swallowed everything around me, and when fear conquered my senses, the dark wriggling masses caught my legs, yanked me to the ground and dragged me—my nails scraping across the floor—into the darkness.

Alison's phone vibrated on the nightstand next to me. I looked at the time: six o'clock in the morning. She hadn't even stirred. Not feeling like walking into school looking all beat up, I fell back asleep. A few hours later, I woke up alone. Standing up, I noticed my body wasn't sore anymore. Weird. I walked into the bathroom and studied my face in the mirror. Most of my injuries were gone, except for the cut on my lower lip. How was that even possible? Had I imagined all those bruises and cuts last night?

I headed downstairs and found Alison in the basement, kneeling on the dusty cement, drawing a weird-looking circle on the floor with red chalk. She still had some bruises, but overall, her injuries looked much better today too. Weird.

"Where is everyone?" I asked. "Mom's been in bed all day, and my grandma's probably at the grocery store."

"What're you going to say when they see you all beat-up?"

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