The Flood

Chapter Eight (Summer, 2000)

(5.5k words, 15-25 min read)

‘Pretty’ Beau Lewis, the Leader of the Astronomy Club, woke up at seven forty-five in the morning to eat breakfast and biked to Bushkill Avenue. He had a clubhouse to finish.

Myles Willis, the Sage of the Astronomy Club, dreamed before he woke up with half of a boner at eight in the morning. He and the other Astronomers needed to finish their clubhouse. His final dream before encountering the House in the Woods involved the House this time as well as the novis. He was convinced the House existed now, but this was the first time he’d seen it.

It was in dim light, like the whole building was inside a greenhouse. Old, turreted, wooden. Boarded windows. Paint peeling off the sides like a fading sunburn. It was a beaten, senile thing that probably creaked and swayed in the wind. Probably dangerous to explore too. Maybe it’d be fun to explore.

But the monster… even in his dream that he knew was just a dream, he felt the twinge of fear that something might just catch him.

Unmemorable but unsettling visions meandered by and Myles was unable to remember specifics, though he was relieved the monsters didn’t linger. He wondered what time it was in the real world.

Now the dream showed white all around him. A space of white that opened in infinite directions. And that was when he saw her. Myles saw, but he also just knew. Like he’d always known. This is something I am going to know, he told himself. And at the time, this was a reasonable conclusion.

It was that girl again. Slightly tanned skin. Short, perfectly white hair. Mature, yet innocent. She had her throwing knives, one strapped to each shin. Muscular, agile body. Deft, quick fingers that twirled one of the knives. She sheathed the other knife into a strap fixed on her shin. She still wore small, leather boots. Her clothes were worn and unwashed. She seemed sharp and he just knew, once again, that she was deadly. But she wasn’t going to hurt him. He hadn’t met her yet, but he was going to.

And then two other things were made clear to him. That he just understood and didn’t know or think about how he knew them.

The first was the fraise. Bottled wonder. Adults wanted to stay within the boundaries of what they knew. The fear, but courage to face the chaos. Almost zero adults carried this creativity, this fraise which gave them… agh, Myles didn’t know yet. He only could feel the fleeting understanding that there was more to it than creativity.

But he knew it was the fraise in himself that enabled him to see and feel these images and concepts. To see the future.

I’m seeing and feeling and understanding things in the future right now, he thought. It was something the Fraise helped him understand. It was like he knew what it meant as it happened, but not afterward… and now that he was trying to explain it to himself, it made no sense at all.

Incredible.

WHAM.

And Myles was away. His whole body leapt out of sleep like he’d been falling. A quick gasp issued from his lips.

“FUCK ME. Why does this keep happening to me? Damn.” He said from his bedroom floor. He’d fallen out of his bed.

As he picked himself up, he thought: I need to write that down. He was still partly asleep and only remembered writing. He walked to his desk, removed a sheet of paper from the inside drawer, and wrote as coherently as possible. Then, satisfied with the couple of paragraphs he’d written.

Then he awoke, remembering he’d written something down. He walked over to the paper. “Hm?” 

The fraise is a little organ in your chest and it gives you powers. It helps me see the future and  I have the fraise in me. I think a lot of kids have it. I know that there are monsters after us because we have the fraise. That’s why they don’t attack humans. Adults. Human adults. It’s only found because kids are creative or something like that. The house is how you escape from the monsters.

If you get out of this world and into another world, you get to unlock your fraise power thingie. I don’t know what happens, but that air will get you something. That world air. I don’t know, but there’s more to it and I don’t know what it is. The End.

“Did I really write this?” Myles said. “Weird,” but irrevocably true. He didn’t want it to be. It meant he was in danger… but maybe they were weird dreams messing with him and he needed to stop overthinking.

Myles left the paper on his desk. Today he and the other Astronomers were to finish the construction of the Observatory.

‘Langley’ Archibald Langley, the Bug of the Astronomy Club, woke at eight fifteen in the morning to eat. He wanted the clubhouse done, but didn’t want to go to all that effort.

‘Blink’ Cuthbert Mayer, with no affiliation to the Astronomy Club at that time, woke at eight that morning to eat breakfast and wonder how he would waste his day. He’d previously thought that being in a club would be fun.

Marshall Baker had no affiliation with the Astronomy Club, but knew of them and wondered how fun it would be to join. Those guys didn’t seem awfully smart, but smarts didn’t always make someone fun. He woke up at seven-thirty to eat breakfast and thought about looking for the House.

And finally, Mariah Smith, who had encountered the Astronomy Club once and was rudely rejected an invitation for initiation, had been awake since seven-fifteen. She’d just woken from a dream that revealed the House’s exact location. She knew it was out in the woods…that way… and that it was close enough to bike to. She didn’t have close friends and thought the idea of being in a club was thrilling. ‘Better to starve than eat poison,’ Her dad would say, explaining that it was better to feel empty without friends than to feel full with bad friends.

And, like on May 18th, 1994, years before, Myles wasn’t the only one who dreamed that night. Mariah Smith on Walnut Street was dreaming about similar things. Things she wasn’t taught before, but somehow things she knew.

You’re in danger. The novis, if they’d wanted to eat you, they would have torn you up. No, Mariah, they were just testing the pickings. They’ve been here before, haven’t they? The Bushkill Massacre ring any bells?

It was like she was being spoken to by herself from the future. 

Those monsters were waiting for the pickings to be ripe. They travel by house, you see. That house… it pops up in those woods because it gets hungry. It’s always feeding, popping up in other woods and streets. And it wants to eat kids like you, Mariah Renee Smith. Yes, fraisers. Kids with the fraise. Delectable little snack to the novis.

“How do we beat them?” Mariah asked. She’d been tormented by empty dreams and flashes of the novis, ever since the attack. Nothing like the real attack, but enough that she never forgot. Mariah was tired of being fearful; better dead while fighting than alive and in fear. She just knew she could beat those monsters, but not alone, no ma’am. She was going to have friends, wasn’t she?

“What friends?” She asked.

The friends will come later. The house is in the woods and you need to go there and find that Mirror.

“The Mirror,” Mariah breathed the realization. The Mirror is the way to escape! But it was being protected by the novis in the House.

She realized she was awake.

Mariah’s breathing was steady, her gaze relaxed, and her heart content as she realized she was in the Hands of God. For the first time since the attack, she truly felt at peace, like the novis finally took its huge clawed hand off of her chest and let her breathe again. There were dangerous things at play, but nothing to fear.

Is this what it feels like to be near The Valley of the Shadow of Death? Sometimes it was a sin to be afraid of something you couldn’t do anything about. How did her father put it? ‘You can be aware of the danger and be smart about it, but you don’t need to fear it.’ She thought he was right, but she was scared all the same.

She rose from her bed; this needed to be written down.

With a clear mind, she wrote about the danger, but not the fear. Why the novis were hunting only kids and why they only hunted in the past. Why they hadn’t returned quite yet: they were waiting for some of the kids to grow up a bit more. About how the only escape from the novis was in the house

It had something to do with a mirror.

Blink was hesitant to fish. That clearing had always given him a strange feeling when he walked over it and now he had a real reason to fear it. What could have made those huge tracks? He had to return at some point, so Blink walked out to the garage three minutes after Pretty rolled up the Myles’ house.

Grabbed the tackle box in the left hand.

Brown fishing rod in the right hand.

No rain poncho today since Winton’s sky spat the rain out yesterday. One big loogie all onto the ground, all running off of the mountains and into Beck’s Creek. Blink wondered how high the creek water had risen. All that rainwater was probably hurtling the fish closer to the Atlantic as he walked out of his garage toward that clearing.

Blink thupped his feet into his mudboots and started shloop shloop shlooping toward the Creek once again. Hopefully the clearing’s feel was something he’d made up, though he didn’t know how he could have. It was time to fish and forget about that stupid patch of dirt.

He made it to the clearing.

There was nothing but fresh dirt, washed out with little fingers of runoff where the water had walked off the dirt. There were a couple of puddles close to the middle and no tracks. So maybe the things that made the tracks were gone, or, better yet, never existed at all?

Blink realized he’d stopped walking. His hands were full of fishing gear, and his boots full of quivering feet, probably because this clearing was making him uneasy. The whole area appeared as threatening as a cemetery in the afternoon. Nothing visible was out of place.

Blink walked on. He felt better as he put more distance between him and the clearing, he felt better. Shloop shlooping toward the Creek to see how high that water had risen and how many fish were heading toward Boston, swept away by the current.

He made it to the gorge, the canyon, and wow. The water had climbed two feet up the bank. Much less distance from the ledge to the water now, but looking gentle and meandering.

Don’t get tricked by how still it looks; this water could whisk me away in a heartbeat. 

His fishing pole hung over the raging river. It was all muddy, cloudy. Messy. The water swirled and played around with leaves. Blink put his rod and tackle box down and picked up a handful of leaves. He tested just how fast the water was by throwing the leaves into the water. They fluttered down like homework papers and settled onto the churning creek before swishing downstream as fast as winking.

And this was just moments before he fell in. 

Fell into that deadly, gentle stream of mirk.

He was thinking about leaving the canyon and casting out near Bushkill, the northeast side of Winton. That was where that natural dam the Game and Fishing Department made back in ‘71 and reinforced in ‘90. The water pooled nicely and was spouted off the rectangular edge in a white wash of water. It wasn’t the greatest spot to fish, but there was always a guarantee of fish there.

But that was when he heard a growl behind him. When Cuthbert ‘Blink’ Mayer flipped around to see what had growled, he started in surprise and jumped away which sent him into Beck’s Creek.

He recognized the skin’s shade of black; it matched the tail that ran away from him as he was mowing. The teeth and bony, blackened head that they were fused into. The spit that rolled off of its chin.

Ravenous.

Blink slipped next to his tackle box and his foot stepped into the canyon. His body followed that foot and the other foot, still on the bank, was pulled along with him. He slid down the muddy bank and spished right into the fast-flowing, dangerous current that carried him downstream. And he saw, under the shaded canopy of trees, one of the creatures that had taken the lives of several highschoolers just over twenty years ago.

But he had only a second to look up at that before he panicked about the stream. He was soaking wet. Freezing. The entire cold shock of the water attacked his body like acupuncture. He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose out of habit and started breathing razor-sharp breaths. He was finally realizing what just what had happened.

“I fell in, I fell in Ifellinifellinifellin,” He chuffed. He knew he needed to stay calm, but fuck that. “I fell in,” was all he could realize.

Trees and banks whooshed by him. Rocks under his mudboots banged and slapped against his feet and shins. The current slammed his right knee into a rock.

He screamed. And with that scream he remembered: I have a voice!

He shrieked for help.

Earlier that morning, Mariah Smith was fully dressed at seven thirty in the morning. Though school had finished, it still wasn’t summer according to the calendar.

Mariah was sitting on her bed touching her four-fingered left hand.

There was something out there in the woods all those years ago and I was coming back. That dream told her where the House in the Woods appeared. She’d woken up at six in the morning, watched the sun rise, and donned her best outfit:

Light blue jeans. Her green nikes. Her white shirt. Most comfortable bra. First favorite scrunchie in her hair and second favorite on her wrist. No belt. And her thick, green jacket. She didn’t know what she’d find out there, but she needed to go see that house. She’d been planning on biking out there, straddling the Huffy that her neighbor had handed her last year. No gears, no pegs, no working front brake. But the tires were aired, the rear-brakes worked, and the seat was adjustable. What else did you need?

Only if her dad was watching would she wear her helmet. Since it was early, they wouldn’t miss her. She’d be back in no time. Something now told her she may be gone for a long time and decided to leave a note. Something along the lines of ‘Went for a bike ride. Will be back around lunch. Don’t worry, I’m wearing my helmet.’ Then she slid her hemet under her bed and hopped on her Huffy.

She pedaled down Walnut and turned onto 12th toward the highway. Before the highway, she turned onto Jasper and headed west.

Before Mariah had woken that morning, Marshall Baker also couldn’t sleep as he thought about that box of paper: The heap of photos of gutted highschoolers in sweaters on a forest floor, leaves sticking to their bloody corpses. He slid out of bed at five in the morning to look at those files again. There was supposedly a house and there was no peace in his mind until he’d made sure it didn’t exist. So maybe he should mount his Raleigh and see for himself. He needed to head to Bushkill Street. Well… not quite. If he just cut into the woods toward Beck’s Creek on 34th Street, he could go As The Crow Flies and that’d save him some time.

After about an hour of hemming and hawing, Marshall Baker grabbed his black Jansport backpack and alongside his flashlight, three walkies, and blank college-ruled notebook, he put the thick group of papers into the main pocket. The Jansport was back to its average weight during the school year when it was filled with textbooks.

Marshall eased his footsteps down to the garage and rolled his bike down the driveway. He was going to head toward Beck’s Creek. His dad wouldn’t worry about him. Being the middle-child, it was easy to disappear when you wanted to. Since he knew the town so well, he knew there were two ways to get to the path that ran along Beck’s Creek: The path from the one neighborhood on the west side of town. If you took the road that Deedle Dee Diner was on and headed down until the road turned to dirt and continued to the woods, you’d hit the path. Then hang a left until you hit that other path and you’d take another left and bushwhack until you found it. Or you could head to Bushkill by tearing straight into the woods until you hit that clearing. Marshall was about to head past Deedle Dee, leave a mark in the dirt road, and coast toward the Creek. 

Just a few minutes before Mariah Smith had left her own house on her Huffy bicycle.

This was while Blink Mayer was gazing upon the strange clearing.

Three minutes after Marshall had left, he skidded in the dirt because it was awesome to see the tire make a swoosh in the ground. And then he continued on. His bike then ducked methodically into the woods and he headed west toward Beck’s Creek.

Mariah was heading As The Crow Flies from her house toward the House in the Woods, following her instinct like a compass. She was heading off of Jasper Street into the woods.

“‘Bout time you showed up, lazy ass.” Pretty called to the hooded figure walking toward them. The sky was dark and the morning humid and cool.

“Screw you, I’ll screw you like these planks right here,” Langley said, marching through the dewey tall grass to their unfinished clubhouse. It was a silent vigil, slow and rhythmic. They were respectful of their work and treated it gently. This was going to be their sanctuary. The roof from Mr. Inges’ old woodshed was their roof to the clubhouse now. He’d taken it off with a little bulldozer he called a ‘Caterpillar’. As the machine was carrying it around, the boys stopped him, asked him if they could use it before he scrapped it, and then got him to wheel it out to the clearing behind Myles’ and Langley’s house. This was the same clearing that Langley was stomped on by Myles last year. Now that the beams were in place and the roof was fixed, it was up to the Astronomers to put up the walls. They’d installed a sturdy raised floor though it creaked generously, but who cared? This was middle-schooler handiwork.

The front door was in place and the rectangle holes on either side were filled in. On the inside, you could look at the ongoing decor Pretty had begun when he used Myles’ pocketknife to carve his name into the wall on the right of the door. He first carved 

The Astronomy Club

in large letters and then in smaller lettering, he put his name and title:

Leader – ‘Pretty’ Beau Lewis – 1999

Then Myles did his.

Sage – Myles Willis – 1999

Langley was right behind Myles and took the knife for his turn. He started carving. 

Bug – ‘Langley’ Archibald Langley – 2000

But that was only the beginning of the decor. Soon after this and before the Astronomers decided to complete the Observatory, they’d started going through the National Geographics Langley’s mom had because her older brother had won a lifetime subscription and gave them away sometimes. In one of these, they found a map of the stars which they cut out and then found photos of Galileo and Carl Sagan. The map was too wide for the empty wall on the left of the door, so the Astronomers instead finished the wall facing Beck’s Creek and nailed all of their photos to the wall. Then they drew mustaches on the photographed famous astronomers with Sharpie. Then, with the same Sharpie, they drew the words

The Shrine to the Fathers of Astronomy

And in smaller letters underneath:

Gotta Catch ‘Em All

‘They’re glorious.’ Langley had said, watching as Pretty filled in Carl Sagan’s eyes with black Sharpie and Myles turned Galileo’s mustached mouth into a frown.

‘Nega Segan,’ Pretty dubbed the photo as he stepped back.

‘And Frownileo,’ Myles said, joining them.

That was then. This morning was devoted to filling in the rest of the walls. They’d put it off for too long.

It was the screaming from Beck’s Creek that interrupted the Club’s work. Blink Mayer’s screams for help sounded and the Astronomers heard clearly the frantic calls. One look at each other and they dropped their tools to sprint to the creek. 

“Anyone else hear someone screaming?” Pretty said.

“Oh, shit! Someone fell in!” Langley said as they ran. There was only one reason someone was calling for help: they’d fallen in. 

It was as they boys were hurdling the tall grass in the clearing to address the cries when Myles remembered the stream was probably flooded even higher than normal since it stormed last night.

They reached the edge of the creek and whipped glances around to spot the crier.

“I don’t see him!” Pretty said, starting to half-jog up and down the bank. Nothing but water swirling methodically and making its way down. A highway of water with six feet of bank on either side.

“Where’s it coming from?” Langley asked from under his hoodie.

“Downstream!” Myles said, running along the bank with the current. “If we heard it here, there’s only one they went!”

The three boys started to crash along the creek as they heard the cry again. Downstream, like Myles had said.

They quickened and saw the figure right as he grabbed a low-hanging branch with a skinny arm and held fast, muscles like cords straining against the current. 

Myles stopped as close to the bank as he could. “Hang on!” He called. “We’re coming!”

Langley and Pretty stopped close to the edge next to Myles. “What do we do? What do we do? We gotta help him!” Langley was saying.

“HEELLP,” The kid screamed.

“Hold on!” Myles said.

“Wait, is that Blink Mayer?” Pretty asked, inspecting the kid’s large glasses.

“HELP ME.” Blink sounded annoyed now. His clothes were sticking to him and he was freezing cold. Shivering now.

“We’re getting there! Damn. You know, maybe we should leave him,” Langley said.

“Fuck you,” Blink managed in his nervousness.

 Pretty felt a smile coaxed onto his face. “Grab my hand, Myles, we’re going to make a person chain. Quick! Langley, you’re the anchor since you’re strongest. I’m going to go down and grab Blink and help him out.”

“Hurry, please.” Blink had realized his terror again.

The Astronomy Club linked hands and Pretty descended down the bank which was shorter now since the water was high. He made it to Blink who had swung closer to the edge of the water, but was still being tugged by the current.

Pretty offered his hand and the victim let go of the tree with one hand and grabbed. The hand was clammy. Blink’s hand holding the branch slipped off and pulled Pretty along, but the boys held fast and heaved him onto the steep bank. Langley started reeling them back, boy by boy. 

Blink was shivering in the shady summer air. “Thanks.” He took off the glasses that had miraculously stayed on his face despite the plunge. Wiped off the droplets still hanging to the glass. Then he replaced them and gripped his triceps in each hand, arms folded in the universal sign of uncomfortable coldness.

“You okay?” Pretty was the first to speak.

Blink nodded quickly, teeth clacking against each other. He looked down. There were little puncture marks all over his legs that were starting to bleed. He touched a larger mark on his right shin. It was a centimeter wide, letting blood fall out now that he was out of the water. There were scratches all along his arms that were also starting to bleed.

“Come on, let’s get you dried. You gotta be freezing. How long were you in there? And how’d you even get in there?” Pretty said, starting to walk back through the clearing.

“Fishing,” Blink said disgustedly.

“And you fell in?”

“Pretty, give him a break. He’s freezing right now and he’s bleeding all over. Wait till he’s got some hot apple cider first.” Myles said. Myles knew of two gallons of apple cider that were kept for special occasions. This seemed pretty special to him: the rescue of a kid right out of Beck’s Creek. Wow! This kid could have drowned easily.

Langley stayed with Blink while the others went to Myles’s house. Pretty gathered some bandages and a towel while Myles  started heating up the cider in a pot on the stove. They ran back; this kid was tough, but he was skinny. He could use all of the blood he could get.

Pretty didn’t ask any more questions until they were sitting in the Observatory, a blanket over Blink’s shoulder and a mug of hot cider in his hands. He sat on one of the lawn-chairs they’d brought to the Observatory. One of the vacant chairs had a damp towel hanging over the back of it. They’d already used it to dry his dirty-blond hair and pale exposed skin. His legs were almost covered in blood now from the punctures made from little branches he’d struck on his way down. They looked even worse since the water on his legs helped the escaping blood spread quickly. He still felt like he was in shock a little bit.

If Blink had looked around, he may have laughed at the desecrated photos of the astronomers Sagan and Galileo and possibly noted the starmap and the Astronomers’ names carved in the wall closer to the front. But his wounds and coldness distracted him.

Pretty and Myles placed the bandages next to the new kid. It never crossed their mind to help him. 

“Thanks,” Blink managed again. He wasn’t used to people helping him this much; if he’d made it home soaking wet (if he made it out of the creek), Jefferey would have probably laughed. That son of a bitch, I could have died. Blink thought. “My fishing stuff’s up at the clearing.” Was the next thing that entered his mind.

“You can’t leave ‘till you finish that. You’ll get pneumonia. Happened to me more than once,” Myles said. “And you don’t even have a jacket.”

Blink was occupied with bandaging his legs. He’d wiped the blood off with some of the paper towels. He administered several band-aids to his legs.

“How’d you fall in anyway?” Pretty wanted to hear the story.

“I was just stupid.” The huge animal you saw? Was it really stupid? Blink shook his head.

“You just took a bad step,” Pretty said. 

“No, that weird bear made me fall in. The one with the big, black teeth and no eyes.”

The Astronomy Club hushed and looked at each other as they recalled the crayon drawing that Baker had found. The one Myles said he’d seen in a dream. The one they thought killed all of those kids all that time ago in the Bushkill Massacre.

“Did,” Myles started after a long pause, hoping to the Heavens above that he was wrong about his assumption. “Did this bear have teeth so big it couldn’t close its mouth? And big muscles?”

Blink nodded. “Yeah, something like that. It scared me and I fell in.”

“What about the House?” Myles asked, eyes wide.

“What house?”

“Hold up, where did you see this?” Myles asked.

“Uh, ‘round the canyon. It’s way behind my house where the river gets really deep.”

“The clearing,” Langley said. “Was this around the clearing? It would be small, but it’s all dirt there. Nothing grows.”

Blink thought about it. The answer was yes, but he was past that now. Why would they know about it and how did they arrive at that guess so quickly? “How’d you know that?”

“Shit…” Myles said. “You saw that black creature? Out there?”

“It was something. Like a black creature, yeah. And it freaked me out.” Blink said.

Myles sat back in his chair turning white and Langley did the same. Pretty stayed strong, his face looking curious, responsible, and unafraid. As the Leader, he was going to address this problem and make sure it was resolved.

“You said you didn’t see the House?”

Blink shook his head.

“We need to go back out there,” Pretty said. “We don’t know if those things are really back unless the House is there. How can they be here without the House?”

“Are you… insane?” Blink chattered through his shivering teeth.

“I don’t know, but it would be bitchin’ if I were,” Pretty said.

“He’s right,” Myles said, looking and feeling quite small. “We need to go make sure the House isn’t there with it. I don’t know how the monsters could be there without the House, but there’s no way you’re just making it up. Do you know about the Bushkill Massacre?”

Blink nodded. Jefferey and his dad called it the ‘only interesting thing that happened in Winton.’ He knew a lot of highschoolers died after some animal attack, but some rumors were that a monster attacked. But what did the Bushkill Massacre have to do with the House they were talking about and the thing he saw? 

Then: “Oh, shit, shit, shit. No way am I going back there. Holy SHIT I saw the fucking monster! Holy SHIT.” He sat back in his chair and tugged his blanket closer around him, his mouth gaping. Why didn’t it kill him? Why did it only growl and let him get away? It could have mauled him!

“We have to go back. None of us want to, but we have to go back,” Langley said. It was somehow their duty. They needed to make sure the woods were safe and that the House wasn’t there. “Let’s go.” He stood up.

Pretty helped Blink to his feet and then walked out of the poorly-hinged door that was skewed but functional. Langley followed, then Myles and finally Blink.

Curly-haired ‘Pretty’ Beau Lewis led the pack of three boys through the woods. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he was good with directions. He’d seen Langley’s maps that showed where the Bushkill Massacre happened and he knew at least the general direction. Any of the other boys could correct him if he was steering too much to one side.

‘Langley’ Archibald Langley was wearing his hoodie since the morning was overcast and cool for a summer morning. He was at least three inches taller than Pretty and could see partly over the curly hair and into the forest.

Myles Willis was trooping along behind Langley, dodging fallen trees, bushes, and other foliage. I’ll probably get poison ivy, dammit. But they needed to make sure that House wasn’t there and to meet the other two, of course.

Wait.

“Other two?” He said out loud.

Langley and Pretty were still walking, but Langley said: “What? ‘Other two’ what?”

“People at the House,” Myles said. “We gotta meet them.”

“We’re meeting people there? How do you know that? And you’re sure the House is there?”

Myles shrugged. “How did I know Pretty’s full name before meeting him? And about the monster? And no, I don’t think the House is there right now.”

Langley nodded. “Good point. Pretty, you hear that? We might be meeting two more people at the clearing.”

“Alright,” Pretty said.

‘Blink’ Cuthbert Mayer looked strangely between his rescuers. Had Myles just predicted the future or something? What did he know about meeting people there? Wasn’t this whole journey completely impromptu? He had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and now that he was walking, he was warming up in the humidity.

They finally made it to the clearing.