Make Them Scream

||4||

Stepping out of the bus was like plunging into an ice bath. Branches groaned and shifted as the wind rustled through the trees. I listened to see if I could hear Jake, but there were no signs of him.

He's gone.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I was too late. The wolves had already gotten him. Bears had clawed him to pieces and dragged him back to their den for dinner. The dark, inky night had consumed him, never to be seen again.

I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. After pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I lit up the screen. It was 4:28 in the morning. My hands shook from the cold and sleep deprivation as I flipped it into flashlight mode.

The flash lit up my feet where tangles of dried weeds and sage brush covered the ground. Dead pine needles crunched under my Vans as I climbed up the ditch.

"Jake?" I called when I reached the road.

I turned to my left, shining my light down the desolate tunnel of trees. The beam cast shadows along the gritty road. Phantoms formed within potholes and behind rocks. Their shapes crept across the paved gravel like rats as the light passed over them.

A chill surged through me, and my heart jumped into my throat. Jake wasn't there.

I turned to the right.

A sharp, bright light blasted my eyes like a laser, momentarily blinding me. I snapped my eyelids shut, and the world glowed red. I brought my hand up to cover my face before daring to open them again.

"Alex?" a voice asked.

Jake.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The warm air from my lungs condensed in front of me like tiny ice crystals frozen in time.

"Hey," I said as I shuffled over to where his light was coming from. Twigs cracked under my feet as I passed through the thin atmosphere. The world was a vacuum, sucking all the heat from my body. I put my phone back in my pocket and crossed my arms in front of me for warmth.

"How are you feeling, man?" he asked as I got closer. His voice shook as he spoke, and he crouched by the side of the road with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. Jake was a big guy. He was tough. He would never admit to being cold or anything, but I could tell he was freezing his ass off sitting out here.

"My head still hurts a bit, but I'm fine." I sat down next to him on the side of the road. "Think it's just a bruise."

Jake nodded. "That's good."

Even though we had both turned off our phone lights, my eyes were adjusting, and I could make out his face in the glinting light from the moon and stars as the clouds drifted past them.

He reached up to his ear and spun the Sharpie he always kept in his gauge a few times before taking it out. He played with the cap, clicking it open and closed. Jake told people he kept it in there so he'd be ready if anyone ever asked for his autograph, but I knew it was really because he liked to draw. He never wanted to miss a moment of inspiration. He'd designed almost all of his own tattoos and even some of mine—the banshee I had on my left arm and the siren I had on my right.

"I was worried about you, Alex," Jake finally said, putting the Sharpie back into the hole in his earlobe.

I avoided eye contact and stared off into the forest, clenching my hands into fists. My injury was all anyone seemed focused on. I was fine.