Wind

• • F O U R • •

THE LIGHT FROM the moon and stars flickered as the wind pulled clouds across the sky. The temperature dropped as the night grew darker, and a new heaviness hung in the air. A storm was blowing in.

I kept to the side of the road, shuffling along as my toes and fingers went numb. Every step I took felt shorter than my last. My head throbbed dully with pain, and I wiped at the cut. A sickening streak of red coated my palm. I curled my hand into a fist and shoved it into my pocket, trying not to think about it.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, and I'll be there.

I repeated the thought as branches and sticks snapped in the depths of the woods. I glanced around, expecting a monster to come leaping out of the woods and attack me at any second like the deer I'd nearly hit.

My heart pounded. Shadows shifted between the trees as the wind howled, and I shuddered. It was my imagination playing tricks on me. It had to be. Still, I picked up my pace to nearly a jog as I continued. Cold air burned my lungs and nose with each breath I took.

The wind dragged the echoes around in the night making it sound like there were footsteps pounding behind me. I knew it was only the sound of my own feet bouncing back, but as the night grew darker and colder, it became harder and harder to convince myself I wasn't being followed.

My mind went back to Joshua and his haunting glare when he caught Jeremey and I following him. I pinched my eyes shut for a second, attempting to purge the image from my brain, but it was no use. It was burned into my memory.

I pushed myself to keep going, and finally, my eyes caught dim, yellow lights glowing in the distance. My head pounded, but I clenched my teeth against the pain as I made the final push to the bar. A few motorcycles, a truck, a handful of sedans were parked in the lot, and a dull roar of voiced poured out of the small, run-down building. Bracing myself, I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Stale air hung stagnant in the Cat Shack. The beer-soaked carpet stuck to my feet like Velcro as I navigated my way around the tables and chairs abandoned at various inconvenient locations throughout the room. The place wasn't crowded, but the dim lighting and poor acoustics made it uncomfortably crammed. The name "Cat Shack" was fitting—I always felt like a cat underfoot when I was in there, like if I didn't stay on my toes my tail would get stepped on.

My hands had gone numb halfway through the walk down Jefferson Road. My ears and cheeks burned from the windchill. I shivered as my blood thawed and circulation slowly returned to my body. My arms and legs itched and burned painfully. As warm air entered my lungs, my head spun, and I wiped dried blood from my brow. I needed to sit down.

I took a seat at the bar and placed my head in my hands. I knew I needed to find someone to help me with my car, but my mind couldn't begin to fathom going back outside into the wind. A fog clouded my thoughts.

"Can I get you something to drink?" a man's voice suddenly asked.

I looked up, startled. The bartender stared at me impatiently.

"Uh, water would be good."

He nodded and picked up a glass from behind the bar. "Are you all right there, man?" He asked me as he poured water from the tap.

"Huh?"

"Your face." He set the glass in front of me. "You look like you're bleeding or something."

"Oh." I felt my head. It was still damp and warm with blood. "It's fine, just a scratch."

The bartender nodded and handed me a few napkins. I wiped my forehead as I watched a drip of condensation run down the side of the glass of water. My head throbbed in pain like it was swollen. Maybe drinking something would help. After taking a small sip, I stared down at my hands, making my best attempt at becoming invisible. I just needed to warm up. If I could relax and be left alone for a few minutes, I'd be okay.