“JUST CALM DOWN, Arkle,” said Sep. “There’s nothing to worry about—we’re nearly there.”
“Yeah,” said Arkle, nodding, a piece of floss still in his teeth. “Yeah, I guess, nothing to worry about; we’re nearly in the scary-death-murder-forest looking for the man with the shotgun. Oh shit shit shit shit shit shit, I’m losing my mind. Mack, have you got anything to eat? I need some sugar to calm me down.”
Mack patted his pockets. The truck buzzed over the cattle grid. “No, I—” he said.
“Seriously? This is the one time you don’t have anything? Can we put on some music or something? I can’t cope with the silence.”
Mack leaned down to the stereo and turned a button. Shrill music filled the shadowy car, and they froze.
“Is that the freaking Exorcist music? What the hell, Lamb! Why do you even have that?” shouted Arkle. “Turn it off, turn it off!”
“It’s on the radio!” shouted Lamb. “Stop it!”
Mack, panicked, pressed buttons as hard as he could. Hadley’s cassette shot out, spilling tentacles of whispery brown tape onto the floor.
“Shit—have you got a pencil?”
“It doesn’t matter about the mixtape!” Lamb shouted.
“Well—” said Hadley.
Lamb flicked on the headlights as night bloomed around them, and two pale circles appeared on the road ahead. They should have made the world brighter, Sep thought, but instead they made the evening seem darker still.
“I’ve got a pencil,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Let’s everyone calm down.”
“Holy shit,” said Arkle, putting his head between his knees as Mack wound the tape back into the cassette. “Holy shit. Something’s happening in my brain.”
“What do you mean?” said Sep.
Arkle sat up, blinking quickly. “My head feels leaky. My brain’s full of leaks.”
“Your eye’s twitching,” said Hadley.
“Well, maybe someone should put on some nice, happy music so we can sing along while we head toward certain death, all right?”
“We’re not going to die. Roxburgh will—”
“Happy music!”
“All right . . . what about Bananarama?” said Hadley.
“Shit,” said Arkle.
She found another cassette. “Wham!?”
“Double shit, that’s why they broke up. Come on, people!”
“All right,” said Sep, opening his Walkman. “The Smiths?”
Arkle knocked the cassette out of his hand and grabbed his collar. “I am freaking out, September!” he said, eyes wide and twitching. “Do you really think a vegetarian is going to make me feel better?”
“We’re nearly there anyway,” said Lamb. “Just deal with it and stop being such an asshole.”
Arkle began rubbing his arms as though trying to keep warm. He took out another piece of floss and worked it through his teeth as he stared at Sep. “How ah you sho calm, Shep? Ah you ’ot shitting yo’shelf?”
Ptwing!
“Yes,” said Sep, and the thought made him grab for his Walkman. He clicked the play button, and listened to Morrissey’s tinny voice in the headphones around his neck. The insistent heart-like pulse of the box was swelling in his ear.
Lamb turned the wheel and guided them to a halt. “We’re here,” she said, killing the lights.
“I feel sick,” said Hadley, leaning against the back of the seat.
The colors had faded with the sunlight, evening coating the world in a shifting silver film. It seemed to Sep that none of the shadows were where they should be, and he fell beside the truck, placing feet on stones that didn’t exist, and reaching for handholds that were only wisps of plant.
They walked without talking, lost in their own thoughts.
The noise of the box had remained steady in Sep’s ear since Barnaby had landed on the car, and its ache had settled permanently into his tooth.
He looked back at the town. The storm was closer now, boiled up in the pressure cooker of summer heat. He could almost feel it glowing in his mouth, like blood from a bitten tongue.
Arkle moved closer to him. “You called me Arkle in the car, you know,” he said. His eye had stopped twitching, but his pupils were glassy and wide.
“I know,” said Sep. “I figured I don’t like being called Septic, so maybe I shouldn’t force Darren on you.”
Arkle grinned at him, then closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Thanks, Septic,” he said.
Sep looked down at his feet. A dark stain was splashed over the earth—liquid made gummy and thick by the dust. “That’s blood, isn’t it?” he said.
Arkle leaned down, his face inches from the mark, then swung up and fixed Sep with an uneven stare. “Where?” he said.
Sep peered at the bloodstain. In the gloom it looked almost black. “Never mind,” he said.
“Oh, look!” said Arkle. “A critter!”
Smiling wildly, he scooped up something that might once have been a gray squirrel, but was now red, dead—and inside out.
“Put that down!” said Sep. “Jesus!”
“No way, José! I’m keeping her,” said Arkle, cuddling the sticky lump.
Dark shapes fluttered and hopped between the branches.
“Arkle, that thing’s probably full of bacteria—”
“Don’t make this about science!” shouted Arkle. He started to dance with little wobbling steps, as though he were balancing on a couple of billiard balls. “Just go with it, Seppy, come on. ‘Dear Mu-mee, dear Da-dee, you have plans for me—’”
“Darren, maybe it’s not the right time to dance,” said Hadley unsteadily. She moved closer to Sep, and he caught her scent.
“Too bad, Milkybar Kid who’s strong and tough,” said Arkle, his eyes closed. “The rhythm’s got me. You hear me, creepy-ass trees? It’s got me!”
“Arkle,” said Sep, moving to shush him as the box-noise began to howl, “why don’t we just—”
“Oh my God,” said Arkle, staring suddenly with wide eyes. “Something bad is happening, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” said Sep. “Something very bad. That’s why we need to keep moving, okay?”
A crow snapped its beak just above his head, and they looked up.
“Why are there four of them now?” said Hadley carefully.
“And why can I see one of their rib cages?” added Lamb.
Sep held his skull as though it might split, and took a deep breath of fetid air, felt it shoot through his tooth in a white bloom of pain.
Arkle was nodding frantically. “Right. Right right right. Shit. Okay, let’s go,” he said, then sprinted headfirst into a tree.
“Darren!” shouted Hadley. She dropped to her knees beside Arkle’s prone body, her eyes half-closed. “What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s the box,” said Sep. “He’s been saying all day his mind is slipping. I guess it finally slipped.”
Lamb touched Arkle’s neck, felt his pulse. “He’ll be all right. I think,” she said. Then she touched Hadley’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Hadley nodded, then climbed slowly to her feet. “I’m fine. I just want to get this done.”
“Me too,” said Mack. “You want me to carry him?”
Arkle coughed, sat up, and grinned. There was a string of dental floss hanging from his teeth, and his mullet was askew.
“All right, Sep?” he said, blinking as though he’d just woken up. “Everything good?”
“Great, thanks. How are you feeling?” said Sep, taking his hand.
“Oh, I’m good. Sooooo good—I just don’t know what that weird humming is humming is humming for, you know? God, and my mouth is dry—it’s so dry.” Arkle leaned over and gasped, his tongue pointy and long. “Have you got any Spike?”
“We’ll get you some when we get back. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I think . . . maybe. But it’s good good good. Thanks, Seppy Sep. You’re such a pal, you know? I missed you. . . . I missed you so much.” Arkle threw his arms around Sep’s neck. “You’re so clever,” he whispered, his breath hot. “My Seppy Sep.”
“Break it up,” said Lamb. “Roxburgh’s house is this way.”
Sep prized Arkle’s hands away, then checked over his shoulder. The others were standing together, ready.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling Arkle with him.
They went on, deeper into the forest, the wind whipping at them with growing strength, throwing the smells of dead things into their noses and tousling the feathers of the crows above.