THE BOY AND GIRL HAD EVERY REASON TO THINK THEY WERE ALONE.
After all, they’d been here many times before. In this open truck bed, under this dense canopy of leaves, miles and miles from town. It was the perfect place to disappear from the world for a while. Or to make out before curfew on a school night.
But on this particular night, they weren’t as alone as they thought.
“Did you hear that?”
The girl pulled away from the boy and pushed a sweaty lock of hair over her forehead, half rising to scan the darkened woods. She tried to focus on the noise she’d heard—not the chattering of small animals or the rustling of dead leaves, but something distinct. Like someone saying hush into the wind.
“Did I hear what?” the boy murmured, trying to pull her back down to him.
There it was again—slightly louder now, almost like a sheet sliding over dry grass. The girl twisted her body, her legs straining against the zipped-up sleeping bag.
“That noise. You can’t hear it?”
The boy sighed and sat up. He looked out over the edge of the pickup truck’s open bed and peered into the shadows.
“I guess I hear something. . . .”
The girl exhaled. “What do you think it is?”
The boy turned to her, his eyes hard to make out in the moonless dark. “An axe murderer.”
“Stop. I’m serious.”
“So am I. Axe murderers are a big problem this time of year.” The boy grinned. “Or was that deer ticks . . . ?”
“Ha-ha.”
“I better do a body check, make sure none of them got you.”
The girl laughed as the boy leaned in again. When his lips met the skin of her neck, her eyelids slowly dropped downward, almost closing . . . and through the crack she saw a bright, fleeting light.
The girl’s eyes snapped open, and she pulled away from the boy abruptly.
“What? What now?” He no longer hid the exasperation in his voice.
“Did you see that?”
The boy sighed and twisted again toward the woods. After a moment, his back straightened. He leaned forward.
“What the hell?”
The light was bright and whitish, like a star. Its rapid movement through the trees gave it the appearance of a strobe.
“Hello?” the boy called. He got to his knees and signaled for the girl to stay down.
“What kind of flashlight is that bright?”
“Shh.”
The light moved closer. Fifteen feet away, maybe less. Something in the air smelled like burning. Burning leaves, burning trees, burning meat.
“Who’s out there?” The boy gripped the edge of the truck bed, his knuckles turning white where they clutched at the metal.
The light burst through the trees, and it was too, too bright. It blocked out shadows, trees, everything. The boy and the girl both put their hands up to their eyes to shade them from the glare. The girl screamed, then choked, hot air lodged in her throat.
The light came closer. The boy and girl could feel its heat now. Radiating energy. The metal of the truck underneath them began to grow hot.
The girl screamed and screamed, her throat going raw. She pushed herself backward as far as she could go, until her spine hit the hard edge of the truck’s cab. She could feel the boy next to her, but she could no longer see him. Even with her eyes closed, all she could see was whiteness.
The light had somehow managed to get into the truck bed with them. It was close, just inches away now, and moving so fast. The skin of the girl’s hands began to bubble as she reached up to protect her face.
Just as she stopped screaming, the girl thought she heard a faint noise—a click—coming from the woods. It sounded like the shutter of a camera, snapping a picture.
After that, she heard nothing.