path that snaked through the trees. The scuffed impression of a sneaker lay just past where she stood.
Adrienne frowned and bent low to examine it. The mark was smaller than her own foot, and she doubted Edith had ever worn sneakers.
It could be a child’s. Jayne said they sometimes came through the forest as a dare. She raised her eyes in the direction the footprint pointed and saw another just ahead of it. Or it could be Marion’s.
“Jayne?” No one answered. She’d come farther than she’d thought; even the car lights had faded from view.
Adrienne squeezed her lips together. The footprint was a poor clue but the only one she had, so she followed it, doubling over while she jogged so that she could see the erratic prints. She kept her own feet clear of the marks, knowing that they might be needed for evidence— Please, please don’t let it come to that —as she followed the dirt trail through the woods.
The path was leading upwards in a slow, meandering course. It seemed to have been designed as a hiking trail rather than a direct route of access to anywhere, and Adrienne struggled to keep track of her location relative to the house. She suspected the building was about a kilometre to her right, higher on the hill, but wasn’t certain she could find it if she needed to. The hill was half joined to the mountain behind it, and it would be very easy to climb the wrong slope and end up lost in the deep forest.
Even though it wove and looped erratically, the trail seemed to be curving to the right. It was badly overgrown, and more than once, Adrienne thought she’d lost the footprints before finding them again several metres farther on. The trees were changing. They’d been tall and thin around the crash site but were growing bigger, darker, and uglier the farther she walked. Trunks that had once been straight were gnarled and full of whorls and jagged branches, and although the boughs had fewer leaves, the larger sizes made them more efficient at blocking out the sun. The mist took on a luminescent glow in the few beams of anaemic light that made it through.
Adrienne was so focussed on tracking the footprints that she didn’t notice the path was opening up until she was no longer hemmed in by thick trunks. She stopped and straightened, breathing in raw, panting gasps.
She’d arrived in a small, unkempt clearing. The trees grew tightly around its ragged perimeter, creating a natural wall, but the clearing itself was free of plant life; all that existed inside it was a layer of dead leaves and a strange, hulking shape in the centre.
That’s not… it can’t be…
Only the silhouette was visible through the mist, but the outline was strongly reminiscent of a gravestone. It rose out of the ground to waist height before curving into a rounded top and cast a long shadow ahead of itself. Adrienne, hugging her chest tightly and holding her breath, crept closer.
The mist swirled around her legs, creating little vortexes and eddies as she pushed through it. As she drew closer to the shape, she began to make out the headstone’s terrible details, the little chips along its top, the stone’s rough texture, and the words carved into its front.
But that was nothing compared to the nauseating squeeze of terror she felt as she saw the woman lying in the tombstone’s shadow like a corpse put to rest six feet higher than it should have been.
“Marion,” she breathed. The word escaped in a small plume of mist.
The lanky brunette was curled on her side, head turned so that her open eyes could stare at the trees above her. Long hair fanned around her face, which was a ghastly, waxy white save for a smudge of dried blood at her hairline.
She’d dug herself a little indent in the grave. Rich, dark dirt was scattered over the leaves surrounding her, and her fingers were blackened with grime.
Adrienne clamped her hands over her mouth, fighting against a scream that she couldn’t completely contain. It came out as a
Adrienne frowned and bent low to examine it. The mark was smaller than her own foot, and she doubted Edith had ever worn sneakers.
It could be a child’s. Jayne said they sometimes came through the forest as a dare. She raised her eyes in the direction the footprint pointed and saw another just ahead of it. Or it could be Marion’s.
“Jayne?” No one answered. She’d come farther than she’d thought; even the car lights had faded from view.
Adrienne squeezed her lips together. The footprint was a poor clue but the only one she had, so she followed it, doubling over while she jogged so that she could see the erratic prints. She kept her own feet clear of the marks, knowing that they might be needed for evidence— Please, please don’t let it come to that —as she followed the dirt trail through the woods.
The path was leading upwards in a slow, meandering course. It seemed to have been designed as a hiking trail rather than a direct route of access to anywhere, and Adrienne struggled to keep track of her location relative to the house. She suspected the building was about a kilometre to her right, higher on the hill, but wasn’t certain she could find it if she needed to. The hill was half joined to the mountain behind it, and it would be very easy to climb the wrong slope and end up lost in the deep forest.
Even though it wove and looped erratically, the trail seemed to be curving to the right. It was badly overgrown, and more than once, Adrienne thought she’d lost the footprints before finding them again several metres farther on. The trees were changing. They’d been tall and thin around the crash site but were growing bigger, darker, and uglier the farther she walked. Trunks that had once been straight were gnarled and full of whorls and jagged branches, and although the boughs had fewer leaves, the larger sizes made them more efficient at blocking out the sun. The mist took on a luminescent glow in the few beams of anaemic light that made it through.
Adrienne was so focussed on tracking the footprints that she didn’t notice the path was opening up until she was no longer hemmed in by thick trunks. She stopped and straightened, breathing in raw, panting gasps.
She’d arrived in a small, unkempt clearing. The trees grew tightly around its ragged perimeter, creating a natural wall, but the clearing itself was free of plant life; all that existed inside it was a layer of dead leaves and a strange, hulking shape in the centre.
That’s not… it can’t be…
Only the silhouette was visible through the mist, but the outline was strongly reminiscent of a gravestone. It rose out of the ground to waist height before curving into a rounded top and cast a long shadow ahead of itself. Adrienne, hugging her chest tightly and holding her breath, crept closer.
The mist swirled around her legs, creating little vortexes and eddies as she pushed through it. As she drew closer to the shape, she began to make out the headstone’s terrible details, the little chips along its top, the stone’s rough texture, and the words carved into its front.
But that was nothing compared to the nauseating squeeze of terror she felt as she saw the woman lying in the tombstone’s shadow like a corpse put to rest six feet higher than it should have been.
“Marion,” she breathed. The word escaped in a small plume of mist.
The lanky brunette was curled on her side, head turned so that her open eyes could stare at the trees above her. Long hair fanned around her face, which was a ghastly, waxy white save for a smudge of dried blood at her hairline.
She’d dug herself a little indent in the grave. Rich, dark dirt was scattered over the leaves surrounding her, and her fingers were blackened with grime.
Adrienne clamped her hands over her mouth, fighting against a scream that she couldn’t completely contain. It came out as a
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