Ma-ma....Eeh-din, puh-wease...don-duh leave me...Eeh-din..." Freddie's lips sputtered as his body shook.
He's trying to get up, Aiden realized. He's trying to get up on a body of broken bones. Don't just stand there, help him!
But that terrible sound stopped him in his tracks and turned his blood cold. At the edge of the dark woods a shape crashed forth from the bramble. Freddie didn't see Mister Skitters, but he didn't need to. The sound it made was one of cruel delight, of malice and surprise. If creatures could make a more wretched sound, it was one Aiden was incapable of imagining.
Hwoooooock! Tick-tick-tick! Hwoooooock!
Freddie's eyes rolled upward, blinking at Aiden with a thousand questions, a thousand hopes. This friend, this kid who he had shared three summer adventures with, had just tried to kill him. And now he was begging for his help.
Hwock! came the sound, closer now. Hwock! Tick tick tick!
The tattered thing was upon the lawn, bounding five feet at a time. God, it was big, bigger than it had seemed from above. Down here, at its level, it was the size of a bear.
"...Eeeeeeh-din...Eeh-din, heb me...heb me," Freddie begged. His fluttering eyes followed Aiden's hand as it reached out toward him. “Eeh-din, heb me pweeease."
But Aiden's fingers closed around the flashlight and he took it. The beam left Freddie's broken form and sent it back to shadow.
"I'm so sorry," were the final words Aiden said to his friend.
Then he turned and ran.
"Eeeeh-din!" Freddie called out. "Eeh-din! Help! Help!"
Aiden gave one last glance back. It was all he could bear. Three things stood out, clear as stars among a sea of black: the treehouse, his friend, and the bounding shape that was bearing down upon him.
Gweeeeeee! it screamed. Gweeeeeee!
Run, he thought with curious familiarity. Don’t think; just run.
It was only four weeks ago at summer camp that the three friends had all lined up for the fifty yard dash. Freddie and Aiden and even Brian, all shoulder to shoulder with a dozen other kids. The sun had been hot that day, so hot. There had been games, the final day of a week worth of competition. That morning they'd lost the water balloon toss contest when Brian had thrown his overhand at Freddie instead of underarm. The rest of the day didn't fare any better. What had started as a sure shot at first place that morning had become a lost cause by midday. They didn't have enough points to win, even if Aiden aced the fifty yard dash. Instead, they decided to have some fun.
"You just run like hell, we'll take care of everyone else," Freddie had said to Aiden. "Your job's to get across that line."
"Ours is to play defense," Brian laughed. "Duh-duh... Don't think, just run."
And run he did. When the whistle blew Aiden didn't even look back, he didn't stop. He only heard the screams, the shouts, the counselors yelling. And behind all that he heard the laughter of his two friends.
"Run! Run!"
He coasted across the finish line, first by a good twenty seconds. When he turned around all behind him became clear. Brian and Freddie had linked up arms, becoming a pair of human bolas. They'd clotheslined several kids and simply slowed down others. Now the two lay on the ground, entangled with the members of the opposing team.
They didn't win that day, they knew they couldn't. But for fifty yards and thirty seconds Aiden had run faster than he'd ever run.
Until tonight.
The lawn and the lights at the edge passed in a blur, streaks and shapes like headlights in the rain. Somewhere behind, receding, he heard Freddie's screams reach a pitch of impossible frequency until it was consumed by that gleeful shriek: Gweeeee!
Aiden's mind washed the sound out and tucked it away in corner of horrors he simply didn't acknowledge. One day he'd go there, he told himself. One day he'd open that box and remember Brian and Freddie and the night that should have never happened. One day he'd bring cops and guns and his father and they'd come
He's trying to get up, Aiden realized. He's trying to get up on a body of broken bones. Don't just stand there, help him!
But that terrible sound stopped him in his tracks and turned his blood cold. At the edge of the dark woods a shape crashed forth from the bramble. Freddie didn't see Mister Skitters, but he didn't need to. The sound it made was one of cruel delight, of malice and surprise. If creatures could make a more wretched sound, it was one Aiden was incapable of imagining.
Hwoooooock! Tick-tick-tick! Hwoooooock!
Freddie's eyes rolled upward, blinking at Aiden with a thousand questions, a thousand hopes. This friend, this kid who he had shared three summer adventures with, had just tried to kill him. And now he was begging for his help.
Hwock! came the sound, closer now. Hwock! Tick tick tick!
The tattered thing was upon the lawn, bounding five feet at a time. God, it was big, bigger than it had seemed from above. Down here, at its level, it was the size of a bear.
"...Eeeeeeh-din...Eeh-din, heb me...heb me," Freddie begged. His fluttering eyes followed Aiden's hand as it reached out toward him. “Eeh-din, heb me pweeease."
But Aiden's fingers closed around the flashlight and he took it. The beam left Freddie's broken form and sent it back to shadow.
"I'm so sorry," were the final words Aiden said to his friend.
Then he turned and ran.
"Eeeeh-din!" Freddie called out. "Eeh-din! Help! Help!"
Aiden gave one last glance back. It was all he could bear. Three things stood out, clear as stars among a sea of black: the treehouse, his friend, and the bounding shape that was bearing down upon him.
Gweeeeeee! it screamed. Gweeeeeee!
Run, he thought with curious familiarity. Don’t think; just run.
It was only four weeks ago at summer camp that the three friends had all lined up for the fifty yard dash. Freddie and Aiden and even Brian, all shoulder to shoulder with a dozen other kids. The sun had been hot that day, so hot. There had been games, the final day of a week worth of competition. That morning they'd lost the water balloon toss contest when Brian had thrown his overhand at Freddie instead of underarm. The rest of the day didn't fare any better. What had started as a sure shot at first place that morning had become a lost cause by midday. They didn't have enough points to win, even if Aiden aced the fifty yard dash. Instead, they decided to have some fun.
"You just run like hell, we'll take care of everyone else," Freddie had said to Aiden. "Your job's to get across that line."
"Ours is to play defense," Brian laughed. "Duh-duh... Don't think, just run."
And run he did. When the whistle blew Aiden didn't even look back, he didn't stop. He only heard the screams, the shouts, the counselors yelling. And behind all that he heard the laughter of his two friends.
"Run! Run!"
He coasted across the finish line, first by a good twenty seconds. When he turned around all behind him became clear. Brian and Freddie had linked up arms, becoming a pair of human bolas. They'd clotheslined several kids and simply slowed down others. Now the two lay on the ground, entangled with the members of the opposing team.
They didn't win that day, they knew they couldn't. But for fifty yards and thirty seconds Aiden had run faster than he'd ever run.
Until tonight.
The lawn and the lights at the edge passed in a blur, streaks and shapes like headlights in the rain. Somewhere behind, receding, he heard Freddie's screams reach a pitch of impossible frequency until it was consumed by that gleeful shriek: Gweeeee!
Aiden's mind washed the sound out and tucked it away in corner of horrors he simply didn't acknowledge. One day he'd go there, he told himself. One day he'd open that box and remember Brian and Freddie and the night that should have never happened. One day he'd bring cops and guns and his father and they'd come
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