Voracious - Alice Henderson [37]
Noah nodded. “He’s killed writers, inventors, architects, scientists, a classical pianist once …” His voice trailed off.
He knows? she thought, unnerved. This creature knows? “Touch me …”
“Do you know why he’d be after you?”
Madeline quickly shook her head. She just wanted to get away. Go home. “I guess I’m just one of those people who got in the way.”
Noah looked closely at her and then shook his head. “I don’t think so; he’s hunting you. If you were merely in the way, he would have just killed you outright.”
Madeline just wanted to slink away somewhere, make herself as tiny as possible. She looked to where it had vanished, though she knew it could probably leap out from anywhere it wanted, tearing them both down to bloody nubs. “Let’s go inside somewhere,” she said. “Somewhere light.”
“Of course!” Noah said quickly.
He took her arm, and they walked back toward their cabin, Madeline glancing behind all the while.
Up ahead, the cabin lay in the shadows of the pines, shielded from the dusk-to-dawn glow of the campground light posts. Madeline was leery to go toward the cabin, nestled in the dark, and she walked slower and slower, until Noah slowed to a stop beside her. “What is it?” he asked.
“It just looks so … small, so fragile.” She stared at it reluctantly. “Like the creature could tear right through the walls.”
He followed her gaze, studying the shadowed building. “I’ll be with you. Even if we manage to get some sleep, I’ll be right outside the bedroom on the couch.”
Madeline screwed up her face in hesitation. “What if he knows which one is our cabin?” She paused. “He could break in while I’m sleeping, slash your throat, then find me in the bedroom.”
“Glad to know I’ll be so helpful in this dark scenario of yours.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge, as you can imagine.” Her head pounded. Gently she checked the bandage again.
“I understand. Tell you what, then. We’ll go to the cabin. We can lock the doors, latch the windows, drink a cup of tea. I’ll stay up and keep guard.”
“But you’re already exhausted!”
“He needs to sleep, too, you know,” Noah said. “Not to scare you more, but he really likes to draw out the hunt. We probably won’t see him again tonight.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. About as reassuring as if you’d told me, ‘Don’t worry. We won’t get hit with another flash flood until tomorrow.’ ”
The chittering of a squirrel brought their attention up to a nearby tree. Madeline jumped. “It’s just a squirrel,” Noah said, putting a reassuring hand on her back.
The woods crept in on her, full of creaking wooden arms and reaching limbs. Then the disturbing hush of night fell over them, all animals save the squirrel quiet in the presence of a waiting, virulent predator. The quiet sigh of wind in the pines was alive with the breathing of the creature, and the chattered words of the squirrel were a terrified warning, uttered sharply and urgently.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, peering into the darkness beyond the dim yellow glow of the lights. “Now.”
Without a word, Noah turned and hurried with her to the cabin. Along the way he fished in his pocket for the keys, producing them as they climbed the two steps to the door. The chilly night air crawled down the collar of her jacket, and Madeline turned to keep watch behind them as he unlocked the door. She sniffed the pine-scented air, in case she could detect some unnatural scent on the wind. Only the familiar river and deep earthen tree smells greeted her. But somewhere out there, somewhere close, she could feel it … the heaviness of it staring at her, its red disc eyes narrowed with hunger.
As soon as she heard the lock disengage, she pushed past Noah into the cabin. “After you,” he said in a startled voice.
“Sorry, just anxious to get inside. Lock the door! Quick!”
Immediately, Noah entered, slamming the door behind him and reengaging the locks. Madeline sprinted around the cabin, rechecking locks on all