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With every step he took Mike was quickly wearing thin. He knew he couldn't keep running. He'd just run more in the last ten minutes than he had all of last year. He didn’t know where he was at, but he swore he could hear the others running behind him. And the ghost, he told himself. Yes, she was somewhere out there too. He’d never ran so fast in his life, never having been as athletic as Travis or Chris. He slowed down as the swamp gave way to normal woods, and he began to be able to see the street lights up through their branches. He’d made it. Turning around, he waited looking around for Chris and Misty but they were nowhere in sight. Shit. They must have gotten lost, Mike realized.
He walked out of the woods and immediately thought he knew what had happened. He’d come out to far up ahead of them. Knowing Chris, Misty and him and probably come out at the exact spot they’d all walked in at. But not him, no I was running blind, just trying to get away. He reminded himself. He sighed in relief as his feet touched pavement. Home free. No more ghosts and ghouls. Not, for him, he was done. He decided. The next time Chris and Misty wanted to do something they could do it there damn selves. His mother was right the kids in this town were nothing but trouble. He took one last look at the woods and made his mind up even if they were close by there was no way in hell he was going to go look for them. Chris and Misty were on their own.
After catching his breath he began the long walk home. His legs felt like they were dying as he walked up the middle of the road. Keeping his distance from the woods and whatever might be hiding in them. He wasn’t going to take anymore chances. Not, if he could help it. They could call him a coward and a sissy for the rest of his life for all he cared, he would stay inside the rest of his life if that's what it took. But, he never wanted to feel fear like that again. Besides, he had a feeling if they made it out that this would be the last time any of them ever set foot in that swamp.
The sounds of sticks cracking came from the woods. At first he thought it was Chris and Misty, but he didn’t see anyone. And he knew after what happened even they wouldn’t be trying to play a prank on him right now. It had to be an animal or something worse. Stop, trying to scare yourself he thought. After all, that was the last thing he needed right now. Wasn’t he already scared enough without his imagination adding to it? He could still hear it though, whatever IT was. Something was dragging around the woods. The sticks and leaves breaking and crouching, echoing around him. Sounding as loud as a marching band on an otherwise silent night.
No, this wasn’t helping him one bit. He needed to keep a level head. Ahead of him the already dim lights along the street began to flicker. “What?” He wondered aloud. But, if anything heard him there was no answer. The lights flickered more violently and began to go out one by one, plunging Mike and the street into complete darkness. Another crash echoed in the woods to his left, louder this time as though it was getting closer. He knew without a doubt that it was far to large to be any animal that lived around Beacon Hills. A wheezy, cackling sound came from the same direction. It was the same sound they'd all heard at the clearing, he'd never forget that sound.
He wanted to scream, but found his throat felt to tight. This time at least instead of being frozen his body seemed to know exactly what to do. Without even taking a moment to think about it he ran as fast as his feet could take him. His feet flying along the old blacktop that as children they had all ridden their bicycles on, the same black top that had held unexpected promise as they became old enough to drive now seemed only to him to contain horror. Behind him he could hear the sounds of bones bouncing off the blacktop. Hollow, and loud, one after the other, he didn’t have to turn around to know that the skeletal form of Mrs. Hernshaw was behind him. And just like him the old bitch was hauling ass. Mike was so scared that tears began to stream down his face as he ran, blurring his vision as he sucked in breath and sobbed at the same time.
He ran faster doing his best to stay a head of her, but he knew it wouldn't matter he was never able to outrun bullies and with his friends sticking up for him at school he hadn't had to try in a long time. He felt ice cold hands pull him roughly backwards by the neck of his shirt. Half choking him as he fell backwards. He could feel the cold, rotting flesh still clinging to the bones of her hands as they brushed his skin. Yet, somehow still strong enough to pull him down. He struggled and fought, but she just kept pulling him closer and closer to the woods. Dragging him like nothing more than an unruly child. The shirt ripped and seizing his chance he helped it along and tore it off him. Gasping he ran back to the road.
Trying to shake her he ran up through some of his neighbors backyards. Too scared to scream, he didn’t know what else to do, she came after him. Her limbs moving awkwardly as she loped behind jumping fences and dogs too as she tried to track down her prey. He'd hoped that Mrs. Wilkerson's lab would have attacked her, but as they ran through his yard, the poor thing had only whimpered and shook. While looking backward, Mike didn’t see the dog bowl in the back of old man Gerardo's yard and he tripped. Going down hard enough that dirt and grass actually got into his mouth. He lay there for a minute gasping trying to do his best to get the breath back into his lungs. Everything hurt, his face included. For a minute he couldn’t remember what he was doing here and how he had ended up on the ground.
Then hands wrapped themselves around him in a deadly embrace. His bare skin being pulled to Mrs. Hernshaw's decrepit body as she dragged him backwards throughout the yard. She pulled him over to the leaning and almost completely fallen down dog house, the name Rufus was etched over top the opening. The dog had died three summers ago, him and the others had helped Mr. Geraldo bury him. His mom still checked in on the old man from time to time. Bringing him food and making sure that he didn’t need anything. She took him past it and over to an algae covered bucket in the corner of the yard.
Rufus’s water bucket that has just been sitting out and collecting rain and filth for the last three years. He knew what was going to happen and was trying to sink his feet into the dirt. She started doing the dry, wheezy cackling. One of her skeletal hands knotted itself into his hair and plunged him face first into the dark water. Instantly, the stale, murky water forced itself into his mouth and nose. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to fight and kick, but it was like fighting against a bear. Her skeletal arms were like steel. He couldn’t move, and then the darkness that was clinging on the edge of his vision completely engulfed him.