Eat Your Heart Out by Kelly deVos

Author:Kelly deVos [deVos, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2021-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

RACHEL BENEDICT

Another contraction.

More pain.

My whole abdomen seizes. Like something is tearing me up from the inside out.

God is punishing me.

My father always loves to quote Job.

Man is also chastened with pain on his bed and with unceasing complaint in his bones.

In a blur of motion, everyone pulls off their snowshoes and tosses them aside. I hope we won’t need them again later, because it’s still really coming down out there. Steve puts his flashlight in his backpack and wheels me along in the office chair into a long gray hallway.

Paul is a couple of paces in front of us and rubbing his bloody hands on his sweats.

Just when I was beginning to trust him, he lied to me. But I can’t be mad anymore. We’re lucky those creatures didn’t kill him.

The siren wails, and there’s nothing but blood and gray as far as I can see.

There are only five of us, and everyone seems to have a purpose. They are pointing and planning and yelling at each other. Paul gestures to a door at the end of the hall. Sheldon pushes ahead of us and disappears through it.

And we wait.

For the vengeance of an angry God.

A couple of minutes later, the alarm suddenly stops.

Sheldon is back a second later, shaking his head. “Companies invest a fortune in these high-tech security systems, but then there’s always some idiot who leaves his password on a Post-it note stuck to a monitor. It’s like I always say, a company’s biggest security vulnerability is its own employees.”

“Well, thank God for small favors,” Steve says.

Sheldon grins. He is way more relieved by our current situation than any of the rest of us. “Thank God for big favors. There’s a working phone at the security desk. We’re gonna get out of here.”

I fight off the urge to groan as another spasm hits me. Somehow, I can’t share Sheldon’s optimism.

The rest of us follow him through the hallway into a large vestibule that is on the other side of the massive entrance doors we passed earlier. It’s only lit by dim safety lights, but Sheldon hits the main light switch as we enter. The room becomes bright and falsely cheerful. Beyond a large gray desk, there are several modern neutral-colored sofas and a coffee table covered with magazines.

Sheldon takes the chair behind the desk, and Steve pushes me next to him. The desk is mostly covered by a series of monitors and a keyboard. A few file folders are stacked in one corner, and a standard black desk phone sits on top. Sheldon picks up the receiver, dials 911, and hands the phone to Steve, who hesitates for a second before taking it.

I can hear a woman’s voice respond before Steve presses the phone to his ear. “911 operator. What is your emergency?”

Talking on the phone is not Steve’s strong suit. “Uh . . . hi . . . uh . . . this is Steve. Steve Miller. And we’re at camp. Camp Featherlite. And there are these things.

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