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“I’m not okay! I will never be okay!”
The outburst is sudden. Explosive. Like the kid’s been holding it in for far too long. Alicia has known this was coming — saw it in the tension in the boy’s shoulders, in the redness of his eyes, in the way he never smiled and never cried and was always terse around her — and yet. And yet. She is not prepared for it.
“You — you don’t get it! You’re strong, and you’re tough, and I’m — I’m not, I’m just not, okay?!” His voice cracks, but the floodgates are open now. Alicia doesn’t think he can stop, even if he wants to. “You’re fine, ‘cause you’re you, and you’re always fine! I can’t — I can’t do that, okay?!”
He glares at her, and oh, he looks just like Maddie. When their momma died, Alicia needed to be strong enough for the both of them, strong enough to carry them through, and Maddie, she cried and cried, but she got angry, and she glared so hard, too hard and too old and it broke Alicia’s heart to see it. Maddie bellowed — Don’t you care?! — and Alicia couldn’t say anything because of course she cared but she had to be strong and she had to be tough and she had to keep going and couldn’t let it get to her and Maddie screamed something fierce, screamed so loud and so long it was amazing her tiny body didn’t give out, she was so small —
Just like her little boy.
He’s so small.
Alicia needs to find him.
He doesn’t know these woods — probably doesn’t know any woods, and that bit of scrub Amity Park calls conservation doesn’t count. This isn’t some patch of green in the middle of a city where the most you’ll see is a stray cat. This is rural. This is wilderness and farmland, where the nearest anything is two miles away.
And this is nighttime. No local would dare go out at night. Alicia more than anyone knows why. Her city slicker fool of a nephew doesn’t stand a chance out there. And like hell she’s gonna just stand by and wait for it to happen. She ain’t giving up the only family she has left to the woods without a fight.
But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t go out there prepared.
Alicia isn’t prepared. But she has to try. “Kiddo —”
“Stop that! Stop calling me that!” The kid is shaking with emotion, fists clenched so hard it’s a wonder he isn’t bleeding.
“I’m not ‘kiddo’, I’m not ‘boy’, I’m not ‘Daniel’, I’m not — I’m Danny! Please, just call me Danny! No one has called me Danny since — since —” the boy — Danny — presses his fists to his mouth, eyes shining green with otherworldly light, glistening with tears he’s refused to shed since Alicia’s sister died.
Not just her sister. Danny’s mom. His dad. His sister and friends, and even his teacher.
Everyone he loved and cared about.
Gone.
And no one but Alicia and that no good Masters left for him.
Heh. ‘No good Masters.’ Like she’s done any good since taking him in.
Has it really been that long since she’s called her nephew by name?
“Danny!”
Alicia knows it’s foolish to call out his name like that. She knows it might not be Danny that answers.
But she’s at a loss.
His tracks should have been easy to follow — and they were, for a time. Danny may be smart, but he’s a city kid. He never learned how to hide his tracks the way Alicia and Maddie had growing up in the backwoods of Arkansas. Never learned to pass through these woods without a sign, like the ghosts in the stories Alicia’s momma liked to tell her and Maddie before she died. Never learned to navigate any woods, Alicia reckons, without help from his mom.
But his tracks disappear.
They stop abruptly, in a small clearing, not too far from the fairy circle she hasn’t had the chance to warn him about because he’s hardly ventured off the farm, let alone this far into the woods and —
She takes a breath, and she realizes she’d been holding it for the past minute. Calm down, Alicia. Panicking here won’t do anything but make her lose him for good. And she can’t have that. She won’t have that. Not again.
She takes another breath, steadying herself, and scans her flashlight over the tracks she can see.
Danny had broken through several branches and a thicket of thorns to get here — then fallen to the ground. Probably tripped on one of the roots that arched just above the dirt, hard to see those in the moonlight. She winces in sympathy — a fall like that would leave a mark.
But even so, he had gotten back up again. She sees it clearly in the footprints that follow the fall — stumbling at first, but they grow stronger as they push on into the clearing. The final tracks he left are the clearest — deep footprints facing the other side, the faded treads of his sneakers’ soles pressed firmly into the soil. It’s like he had jumped into the air.
But there’s no sign of where he landed. No hint of where gravity could have pulled him back down to Earth.
Like the moment his feet left the ground, he had disappeared.
Just like —
No.
She wouldn’t think it.
Not here, out in the wilderness at night, where anything could breathe life into those very thoughts.
Not now, when the only family she has left is all alone out here.
But how is she supposed to find him?
Alicia stands up straight, grimacing in frustration at the pop of her back. She’s getting old. Too old to be out at night searching for her fool of a nephew. Not that she’s any wiser, when she’s the one who drove him away.
She takes a deep breath to call Danny’s name again — then chokes on her voice as a wail brutally murders the silence of the night.
The wail — she can’t call it anything else, the way its cries linger in the air — howls through the night, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck and setting her teeth on edge. It echoes over itself, multiplying into a cacophony of moans and keens and shrieks — voices of the damned, screaming in agony and grief.
And before she can think, she finds herself sprinting towards the ghastly sound, gritting her teeth as it grates at her ears and pierces her soul. But she can’t give up, can’t slow down, can’t — can’t think as the wail fills her head and pounds against the inside of her skull —
Only one thought breaks through the cacophony, tolling like a funeral bell, pushing her to move faster, to get there before she’s lost him forever.
Not again.
Not again.
Not again.
“Danny, I’m so sorry.”
It’s all Alicia can say; but it isn’t enough, and they both know it. She’s losing him, she can feel it — feel the gulf between them stretching further, even when she steps forward, even as she wraps her arms around him, engulfing him in a careful hug — as if holding him too tight would shatter him; as if holding him too loose would let him slip away.
Foolish.
She isn’t much of a hugger, but even she can feel that this hug is awkward and wrong — in the way his muscles tense when she gently pats him on the back, the way she towers over him and holds him in place, the way he holds himself like a wall of ice and doesn’t hug her back.
She finally lets go, and he steps back, away from her, glaring at the floor, shoulders risen to his ears.
Then his eyes snap to hers, and they are icy blue like his fathers, and deadly sharp like his mother’s — but the fire in them is cold, and it chills her to the bone. His voice matches his eyes.
“I don’t need your pity.”
And before Alicia can do anything, he brushes past her, and he storms out the door, into the night. Into the wilderness.
He doesn’t look back as he slams the door shut.
By the time she finds him, the wail has long since petered out, leaving a deathly silence in its wake. She spots him facing away from her, kneeling at the edge of the lake just northwest of her property, the moonlight catching on the edges of his figure but leaving the rest in shadow.
She wants to run to him, to look him over, make sure he’s okay, to bring him back inside. But that’s not what he needs. So instead, she surveys the area, and she approaches slowly, making her footsteps loud in the unnatural silence.
Alicia knows this part of the lake — has spent a good amount of time sitting where Danny kneels, thinking or just taking in the world. There’s always something a little bit different every time she comes this way — some new growth in the plant life, or some new animal tracks after the rain, or even a tree fallen in the wake of a storm. A couple storms have passed since she last came here.
Nothing natural could have changed the landscape to be what it is now.
Multiple trees have been torn from the ground, violently uprooted and radiating outwards from the lake. Some of them almost look like they’ve been hit by gunfire — large chunks of them missing, splintered wood clawing outwards from the gaping wounds. Greenish smoke rises from the exposed wood.
The same smoke curls from Danny’s fists at his sides.
Carefully avoiding the craters and downed trees, Alicia makes her way to the edge of the lake. Not too close to Danny — she doesn’t want to spook him — but not too far, either. She wants him to know that she’s there, that she’s there for him, for as long as he needs it.
She lowers herself to the ground with a huff.
And she sits with him, in the stillness of the night.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as the smoke dissipates from Danny’s hands; as his fists relax; as he slowly shifts from kneeling, to sitting, to holding his knees. She can’t help the small sigh that escapes her — the way he’s curled up, hugging himself, staring intently at the lake so he doesn’t have to look at her — it’s just like her son.
Just like Flynn.
She sighs again, deep and long. Then she speaks.
“You had a cousin, you know.”
Danny doesn’t respond. But she knows he’s listening.
“Flynn,” she continues. “He was my son.”
She pauses as memories wash over her. “He could name every fish in this lake — and he would, too, when given the chance. Tell you all about the peepers, too. Sometimes, I caught him just sitting and staring into the lake — right where you’re sitting now — just thinking, I guess. He was a smart kid.”
Alicia takes a breath, and can’t help the way it shudders.
“He’s gone now. And it was my fault.”
She swallows, and feels her throat click. “We had a fight — can’t remember what about, it was so long ago — but he ran out of the house. And I went after him, of course I did, but it was broad daylight — he should have been safe — and I didn’t get there fast enough.”
She can remember it like yesterday: the way the sunlight had shown as he ran, warming her skin against the gentle, cool breeze that ruffled the grass and the trees. She’d been glad it was nice out — meant neither of them would catch a cold when she could finally catch up to her fool of a son. She remembers her confusion when Flynn had stopped running — then her dread as the dark green of the forest in front of him had slowly warped to something brighter, swirling and glowing and radioactive and growing with each passing moment — then her panic as she had realized what it was.
“It was one of them ghost portals,” she tells Danny. “I’d never seen one before, but your momma, she’d told me all about them. And she’d told me what all came out of them, too. I ran as fast as I could, and I told Flynn to run; but something reached out and grabbed him. And by the time I got there, it was too late. The portal closed. And my boy was gone.”
She can’t help the shudder in her voice, in her chest as she breathes, in her arms as she tenses them to hold herself together. It’s been a long time since she’s talked about Flynn. Too long. But she can’t break over it. Not yet. Danny needs to know — she gets it.
“Losing Flynn like that — knowing he was right there, that if I’d been a bit faster, or if I’d just listened, he’d still be here — it does something to you. My no good ex-husband, he didn’t get it. I’d be a fool to say he didn’t grieve, in the end — but he wasn’t there. He didn’t see. He didn’t understand.”
She watches from the corner of her eye as Danny stiffens.
“I hunted these woods for anything to get my son back,” she continues. “He just thought I was crazy — me spouting about ghosts and fae, like he knew anything about these woods. It ruined our marriage. And I don’t regret that; but it was a bad time. I had nightmares every night about losing him; and every day I did everything I could to find him. Your parents came out here, too, with all their fancy equipment. Didn’t find a thing. And everything I found out in the woods — none of it helped.”
She sighs and ignores the way her breath shakes.
“I never found Flynn, or the thing that took him. It was my fault. And by now, my son is probably dead.”
Danny’s head lowers into his knees as Alicia speaks. She doesn’t expect him to say anything once she’s run out of words. But a moment later, his voice, hoarse and quiet, echoes out from him.
“How do you do it? Keep going?”
Alicia huffs gently. “One step at a time, I suppose. The world keeps going. No matter how much it feels like it should all stop.” She rubs her face, and she’s only a little surprised to find it damp. “It’s hard, with him gone, knowing it’s my fault. There are times the guilt eats away at you.”
“Does it ever go away?” Danny squeezes his legs to his chest. His voice is small. He’s just a child.
Alicia takes a deep, shuddering breath, then lets it go. “No, Danny. It doesn’t.”
She’s not going to lie to Danny — he deserves better than that.
“Losing someone like that? It never goes away.” She pauses. “It gets easier — or maybe you get used to it. Hell if I know. But it never goes away.”
“Then what’s the point?” Danny sounds… angry. Frustrated. Desperate. He’s on the brink of tears, and he looks tired, so so tired, exhausted even — but it reminds Alicia of… something. Maddie? Maybe Flynn? And she chuckles ruefully.
“See, that’s the hard part. Is there any point to death? To losing someone and knowing it’s your fault?” She sighs. “Danny, I’ve had a long time to think. Ain’t much else to do around here.”
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.
“You’re always gonna miss them — that won’t change. And they’ll always be a part of you — that won’t change, either. But the world keeps going, one step at a time. And that’s how you gotta take things. There’s work to be done. And there’s people you gotta keep going for. When Flynn was taken, it was your momma that kept me going. Then your sister and you.
“But out here, in the middle of nowhere, that don’t work forever. Here on the farm, you got structure, and you got hard work to keep things going. But mostly, you got solitude. And you got a lot of room for thinking.”
She pauses. “It took a while, but I think I learned how to keep going for myself. Not saying it’s easy — but anything worth doing takes hard work. And I’ll be there for you, as long as you want it, and as long as you need it.”
Alicia looks down properly at Danny then, from where she sits. His face is buried in his knees, and he’s gripping his legs like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. His whole frame trembles with tension.
He’s so small. And it breaks her heart to see him hurting like this.
Alicia puts her hand on Danny’s shoulder, and it nearly engulfs his upper arm. His head shoots up, and he stares at her with wide, glowing green eyes.
Then he starts to pull away from her, turning his head away and blinking his eyes.
“Hey.” Something in her tone makes him stop. She continues. “You don’t have to hide from me, Danny. You can let it out.” And so should I.
Danny searches her face for something — Alicia doesn’t know what. But after a moment, his face crumbles, and he gasps out a sob before launching himself into her arms. Alicia rocks back a bit with the force of it — then catches herself, and holds him tight, rocking him and rubbing circles in his back like she used to do with Flynn.
“I’m here, Danny. I’m here.”
She won’t tell him it’s okay — they both know it’s not.
Maybe they’ll never be okay.
But she’s there for him. And she’ll be there for him, for as long as he needs. Maybe forever, if Maddie was right about ghosts, if Danny is somehow ghostly.
“I’m here.”
She’s there for him when he lets go and leans against her in his exhaustion. She’s there for him when she keeps her arm around him, and they sit, and breathe, and stare out at the lake, under the stars, under the moonlight.
I’m here.
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