11 – Anthony

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“I haven’t used the toilet at home since,” Nina said. “I wait until I’m at school now.”

Chris pointed to his finger. “Was the ring black? And you said… what was that word?”

Nina nodded. “Iridescent? It reflects different colors when you turn it, like holographic paper.”

“The ring my dog was given looked like that. And the hand that gave it to him was green.”

“Wow,” Chuck said, “what a crap story.”

McQueen and Hagman laughed. Nobody else did. The Caretaker shoved chairs into their hands and pointed to the utility room.

“Once the rest of these chairs are put away, I’ll call for your parents to take you home,” he said. “Not bad, everyone. It took us less than two hours to do.”

“We shouldn’t have had to clean this crap up in the first place,” Chuck said.

“You shouldn’t have thrown food in the first place.”

“I still say it’s not fair.”

“I’m starting to think your idea of fair, kid, is whatever benefits you and you alone,” the Caretaker said, and before Chuck could respond, handed him two more chairs. “Four of these each to go, boys and girls. I believe that’s enough time for this young man. Anton, I believe your name is?”

“Yes,” Anton said.

“Enough time for Anton to tell us a story of his own.”

Everyone took a chair and lined up to put them away. All except Anton. He stood to one side and stared at nothing in particular, then began.

Anton’s Story

It happened that afternoon the sky went dark, but unlike Livia, I wasn’t chasing a light. If anything, I was running away.

The shortcut I took through the woods was my usual one. The sky, on the other hand, got darker far quicker than usual, even this late in the year. It was almost like the clouds wanted to blot out the already lacking sun.

The path led through woods on the outskirts of town, past a couple of farms, to my dad’s place. It wound around small ponds and copses of trees, bordered with thorns, nettles, and any other plant that could hurt you. The path split every now and then, but I grew up here. I knew every twist and turn the woods could throw at me. Until that day.

At first I thought I’d been so lost in my head that I’d gotten lost in reality. I ended up back at a point where the path split into six different directions. Each one was identical, and without knowing which path I’d been on in the first place, I had no way to tell which was which.

But hey, I figured all I had to do was walk down one to see where it led, then backtrack to the split and take the right one from there.

Halfway down that first path, I passed a man. A tall man, freakishly tall, blocking my way. I could make out his pale skin, but his features were hidden in the shadows of the leaves. With the sky getting darker by the second, I politely told him “good evening” and walked on by. His head turned after me without a word, so I sped up.

After a few steps, I emerged into a familiar clearing. Not because I recognized it as a landmark, but because the path split into six identical directions.

Crap. I was back where I started.

Kicking some leaves across the path I’d just taken, I broke into a jog along another.

Halfway down that next path, I saw the man again. He blocked the way, wearing the kind of suit I was forced into at the funeral of my cousin Wyllow’s grandma. I said nothing this time, turned, ran back, kicked leaves across that path too, and took another.

I ran less far this time before I ran into him again, literally. As I rounded an overgrown tree, I bumped into his side.

“Sorry,” I said, and ran past, emerging back at the split.

There were only three paths left uncovered now, and I took each one. Each time, I saw that the tall, pale man in the suit had gotten closer to the clearing.

I backtracked every time, not wanting to go near him. I wanted to call for help, but the signal on my phone was gone, despite always having perfect reception here before. And I didn’t want help from him.

As I turned to head down the final path, he stood at its entrance, practically in the clearing.

I couldn’t go down that path. I just couldn’t. So I ran in the opposite direction.

By now the sky was pitch black. I stumbled and fell through the trees, left the path completely, weaving and pushing, almost swimming through the brush, trying to get anywhere but there.

I emerged back into the split, halfway down the only path I hadn’t yet taken.

I couldn’t see the man. I didn’t have to. I knew exactly where he was.

Long fingers wrapped around my head and something, nothing, pushed through my thoughts. A thousand worms or snakes, or just something, filled my head. The woods stretched out to infinity and folded back into my face as my vision blurred. Then a sharp pain and a bright light filled my head.

Nothing, no voice said. Like the other children before you. You know nothing about it.

“Know what?” I said.

Another voice answered. “Hey, he’s awake!”

“Who’s awake?”

“Anton?” a familiar voice said. “Anton, it’s me. Dad.”

I opened my eyes and looked into the same fuzzy blur I saw every morning. “Dad?”

“That’s right, son. It’s me. What happened? Did someone do this to you? Are you okay?”

Another light shone into my eye. A man in a luminous jacket held a small torch and flashed it repeatedly until I pushed his hand away.

“He’s got a fever,” the man with the torch said. “Let’s get him home to bed.”

My dad nodded and picked me up. He hadn’t done that since I was a baby.

“A lot of the kids have been found like this on their way home,” the man told my dad. “There must be some kind of stomach bug going around. Hopefully it’ll clear up soon.”

That night my dad tucked me into bed with a glass of water by my side and checked my temperature again.

“Temperature’s down,” he said. “No going out this weekend. Get some sleep.”

Apparently I needed it. As soon as sleep was suggested, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. As they closed, though, I caught a flicker of movement at my window. Before my eyelids clamped shut, I could have sworn I saw a pale face in a dark suit.