Traps And Specters
“Bright auras surrounded all points of light: flickering candlewicks, green glow sticks, the beams of flashlights. Porch bulbs looked like starbursts. She saw a few trick-or-treaters racing across lawns, their overstuffed bags swinging at their knees. Several houses down, she spotted the roof of the Parkhills’ house.
Richie’s voice suddenly rose in her head. “Guys, I’m close.” Though he was surely whispering, his bone mic transmitted his voice loud and clear.
“How close?” Sam asked.
“Twenty feet..., maybe.”
“Can he see you?”
“No.”
Ella cut into the yard next to the Parkhills’ property. She ran as fast as she could. “Is he wearing boots, Richie? Black boots?”
Silence hit the airwaves, then: “Yeah.”
Sam said, “Richie, don’t get too close. This could be him.”
“Wait a minute,” Richie said. “He just stopped.”
“Richie—does he see you?”
“He sees … something.”
Silence followed. Ella reached the Parkhills’ backyard and tore across it. Her heart was slamming in her chest, not from fatigue, but fear.MoreLess
Richie’s voice suddenly rose in her head. “Guys, I’m close.” Though he was surely whispering, his bone mic transmitted his voice loud and clear.
“How close?” Sam asked.
“Twenty feet..., maybe.”
“Can he see you?”
“No.”
Ella cut into the yard next to the Parkhills’ property. She ran as fast as she could. “Is he wearing boots, Richie? Black boots?”
Silence hit the airwaves, then: “Yeah.”
Sam said, “Richie, don’t get too close. This could be him.”
“Wait a minute,” Richie said. “He just stopped.”
“Richie—does he see you?”
“He sees … something.”
Silence followed. Ella reached the Parkhills’ backyard and tore across it. Her heart was slamming in her chest, not from fatigue, but fear.MoreLess
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