Night Terrors by Sean Rodman

Author:Sean Rodman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUV039030, JUV001010, JUV010000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2013-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Hours later, it’s still dark outside. Josh and I are eating bowls of cold breakfast cereal in the Swamp when Harvey comes in. He’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder and a gray wool hat tugged down over his wiry brown hair.

“I’m heading into town to get a new belt for the generator. I should be back before dinner. You guys work on the woodpile today. Get all the guest cabins stocked up, all right? Any problems, talk to Edward.” We nod. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he just shakes his head and leaves. A minute later we hear a distant spray of gravel as the pickup roars up the road.

It’s way colder today than yesterday. But pretty soon Josh and I end up taking off our jackets because we’re sweating so much—this is hard work. Out at the woodpile, we fill two wheelbarrows with logs for the cabin fireplaces and guide them down the winding paths, trying not to tip over. Then we unload the logs in the cabins, stacking them neatly beside the stone fireplaces so that they’re ready for next spring when the guests return.

It’s about midmorning when I see the ravens. The big black birds are always around the place—it’s called Raven’s Lake for a reason. I normally don’t pay any attention to them. But this is different. I drop the handles of my empty wheelbarrow and stare. I can see a big maple through the trees, a couple hundred feet away from the woodpile. It’s a big old tree. Every branch is crowded with ravens, like black leaves on the bare, twisting branches. A swarm of them. And they aren’t acting normal. They’re standing still. All pointed in one direction.

Watching me.

I leave the path and crunch over the leaves toward the maple. I expect the ravens to startle and fly away. But they don’t. Not until I’m right beside a group of ravens on the ground at the base of the tree. They hop back, cawing angrily at me, revealing what they have been pecking at. I catch a glimpse, then turn away, stomach heaving. I steady myself, then look back.

The mess of guts, blood and bone is barely recognizable as a raccoon. A big one. It’s been sliced up, almost turned inside out. Despite what the ravens have done to the body, I can tell that this wasn’t really the work of wild animals. I’ve seen that before up here. This raccoon had clean cuts and incisions, reminding me of the dissections I had to do in high school. Puke rises again in the back my throat as I have a sudden thought—what if this is the raccoon we caught yesterday?

What if this is how Edward “took care” of it? I think of the bundle of knives on his bookshelf.

A sudden gust of wind shatters the flock of ravens above me. They take to the air, wheeling and turning. I stumble back to the path. I can see a hazy curtain of snow above the treetops, coming toward me.

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