Monsters (Page 97)

“I hope so.” Eli hadn’t stopped hugging her. Sure, it was safer this way, but she didn’t mind his arms around her one bit. “God,” he said, “they’re creeping me out.”

She could see why. The people-eaters were still advancing in a wedge, the girl with the lime-green scarf drifting along at the rear. With the sun behind them, their spidery black shadows stretched like grasping fingers. At the sight, even the dogs had gone virtually silent, just the barest rumbles rolling from their mouths.

What do the people-eaters think they’re going to do? Jump it?

“What if they jump?” Eli said. “It’s like . . . only a couple, two, three feet.”

It completely freaked her out that she’d been thinking the same thing. The gap of water between their raft and the more solid ice was growing just a little wider, but not fast enough; not by the leaps and bounds and feet they needed, but in a slow, lazy drift of inches.

“We got to make sure they don’t,” Ellie said.

“How? I can shoot two, but that’s it,” Eli said. “That’s all the bullets I have left.”

Leaving eight, and that was only if Eli actually hit anyone. “We should save the bullets,” she said, not knowing why or for whom . . . unless she planned on asking Eli to shoot her. She didn’t think she was that brave. Besides, what would happen to Mina if she was dead?

“Then how?”

“The auger. Extend the handle, and it’ll be plenty long. If you hold my legs, I can stretch and use it to push us away.”

“Oh boy, I hate this,” Eli said, but he was starting to ease down to a crouch. Ellie followed him move for move, her heart kicking at her teeth every time the raft bobbled. When she was flat on her tummy and turned around, he worked out the handle and passed her the auger. “You know what this reminds me of ?” he said. “National Treasure. You know, where Nicolas Cage and everybody else is trapped on this big square thing?”

“I never saw it.” She worked her way toward the edge. One of the dogs must’ve moved, because she heard a frantic scrambling sound at the same time the raft dipped and water leaked onto the ice in front of her face. Oh boy, I hate this, too. She felt the water under their block of ice heave as the raft bobbed. A nasty vision floated through her mind: of the block tilting so far that she slid, face-first, into the water. She’d pull Eli along with her. Then, one of two things would happen: either the raft flipped like a pancake, trapping all of them, or only she’d be hooked, unable to turn around and grab an edge. Most lakes, no matter how still, had a current. The one here was stronger than most because of the spring to their right. So she’d drift left, under the raft, and drown with her back jammed up against the ice.

She wanted to wait for that water to retreat, but those peopleeaters were still coming. So she wormed forward, then passed the auger through her hands and stretched, trying to hold the heavy blades steady. Squirming a few more inches, she sucked in between her teeth as the raft tipped another inch. Water was beginning to creep toward her arms. Maybe she should’ve let Eli do this; he was taller, only she wasn’t strong enough to hold him if he slipped . . .

Shadows leaked over her hands. Her eyes clicked up, and her pulse stuttered. Nine of the people-eaters were nearly there. In the lead, that boy with the machete leered and hacked the air with a blade coppery with Bella’s blood. Not far behind the main pack, that girl followed, the snake of her lime-green scarf trailing. This time around Ellie didn’t think the girl looked so scared. In fact, that kid looked like she was really, really dying to get closer.

They’ll cut us up. Paralyzed, she stared at her death storming over the ice. It’ll hurt . . .

“Don’t stop,” Eli said, and gave the chain a yank. “Come on, Ellie. Hurry .”

“Okay.” She snapped back. “I’m going.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” Her biceps were shuddering from the effort. As strong

as she had grown, hanging on to almost nine pounds of steel at the very end of a slim aluminum pole was nearly too much. Tucking her elbows, she braced the auger against her chest. “Do they get off ?”

“What? Who?” “The guys in the movie.” The people-eaters were very close now, their finger-shadows brushing her hair and arms in crawly spiders.

“Oh yeah.” She felt the chain bite again as Eli redoubled his grip. “The good guys always make it. We’ll do it, too. We’re Jayden’s Killer Es, remember? Good guys? So . . .”

She waited a beat, the steady thump of the people-eaters’ march over the ice keeping pace with the race of her pulse. “Eli?” When he didn’t respond, she risked a look. “E—”

His expression was one she knew. Her Grandpa Jack had worn the same mix of sorrow and shock and rage the day the Army people came to tell them that her daddy was dead.

“Eli,” she said, heart going so fast her chest was about to explode. “What is it?”

“Lena,” Eli whispered, aghast. Then, louder: “Lena?”

What happened next happened fast.

81

Bolting over the snow, Alex barreled into the trees. That burst of strength during the gunfight and then their escape was tailing off, the tang of adrenaline going stale on her tongue. She was huffing, her lungs laboring both from the cold and a smoky haze steaming through the trees in a thickening fog. Snatching a look back, she got a fix on the burning house. The roof was ablaze, a gigantic fiery tongue licking the sky. A little further left, southeast, until I’m even with where the chimney used to be.

Finding what she was looking for again—that was the problem. She’d come from a different angle the first time around. Back here, the snow was all torn up, not only from the frequent passage of game but her own meanderings. Yeah, but all these tracks might be good. Stopping a quick second, she eyed the path she’d taken so far. They’ll have a hard time figuring out which way I went—

“Oh hell,” she breathed. Against the snow, her prints were stark potholes etched in gray-black smears. Must’ve been that last fireball, all that ash. All anyone had to do was follow the yellow brick road right to that old oak—

A distant, shrill shriek. Penny. Those men must be up the hill. Please, Peter, don’t let them hurt Wolf. She tensed, waiting for the shot that didn’t come and didn’t come. Which didn’t mean a thing. She thought about those weird Changed, that red storm. What if they tried the same on Wolf ? And Peter, something was very wrong with Peter; she could smell it . . .