The Shadys inched forward. That was what I called them in my head without even thinking about it. Shadys. They wavered back and forth almost like they were standing on top of a swaying rowboat. Light didn’t glisten on their wet blackness. Rather, their dark shapes consumed whatever illumination dared to cross their thresholds.
The walking shadows closed in around us. With them came a dreadful chill. The coldness gripped my chest and clawed inside my skull, nearly paralyzing me until Shannon squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt.
“Shadys,” I whispered.
Her grip tightened. “It’s the Devil’s Hour.”
A man’s scream pierced the night. It came from behind one of the nearby houses. In unison, all of the Shadys turned toward the noise.
That was our chance. We sprinted off the street—hands still clasped. Our legs moved with impossible speed, and golden light infused our auras. I’d never run so fast before. The world blurred past me. Shannon let me go, and our pace immediately slowed. I chanced a look back at the Shadys pursuing us.
“No,” I said. “I think we’re faster when we touch.”
I grabbed her hand again and we jolted forward. Our rapid feet skimmed the hard concrete as we dashed up a sloping driveway. There was nowhere to go but around the side of the house. We abandoned the driveway and cut through the yard.
She gasped as the grass pierced her feet. Thankfully, the lawn was neatly trimmed. Still, each step sent dozens of tiny blades piercing our tender soles.
We hurdled a chain link fence and landed in a spacious backyard that featured a picnic table, birdfeeder, and trampoline. A round plastic compost bin sat at the rear of the yard, and we used it to hoist ourselves over the rear privacy fence. We crashed into a mess of cut branches on the other side, and the sticks skewered my body in more than a dozen places. I bit back a scream. Whimpering, Shannon crawled toward the fence and stared through a crack in the wood.
“What’s . . . happening?” I said, barely able to form the words.
“They’re coming.”
She moved to dislodge me from the pile. Rough wood snagged my innards.
“Make it fast,” I said. “No time.”
We locked eyes. She gripped my hands and braced herself. When she yanked me free of the sticks, ectoplasmic blood sprayed through the air. Bits of intestines and tendons dangled from my fresh wounds. I fell in a quivering heap. Already, I could sense the Shadys on the other side of the fence. A horrid wet coldness festered inside me.
Shannon pulled me to my feet. A moment later, the dark shapes swarmed over the fence, one after the next. The first few tumbled into the sticks, impaled and writhing, but more plummeted on top of them, bouncing safely to their feet. They hissed and ran toward us.
“Shit,” Shannon said.
We sprinted across the yard toward a darkened house. Shannon helped shove me up the front portion of the privacy fence. From atop the wood structure, the street ahead looked clear. She scurried like a rat up the fence and we toppled into the front yard. Grass stabbed into my feet. We cut through the hurtful lawn and down the barren road, but the Shadys followed close on our heels.
I grabbed Shannon’s hand. A tingle jolted through me. Sure enough, our speed increased. The frozen pebbles in the asphalt below blurred into a dull shimmer. The Shadys fell behind, except more came around the next intersection—cutting us off. We veered through yet another yard, scampering over fences, through another yard, and onto yet another darkened street. My ghostly legs quivered. My head ached. Exhaustion gnawed at my chest. I felt like I’d been studying trigonometry for a solid day. Or watching a Baywatch marathon.
“I can’t go much further,” Shannon said.
Before I could agree, a ghostly hand snaked out of the storm drain and grabbed my ankle. I started to scream, but the grip knocked me over onto the road. One quick tug yanked me into the sewer.
Into the darkness.