Threnody (034).

(This is a 500-word-a-day novel project.)

The trees were thick now on either side of them, almost completely blocking the sky. They could not see more than a few yards into the woods on either side of them; although for a time every single tree had a child growing forth from it, they eventually thinned out until it was just as the trees on the river had been, smooth white bark like willow trees carry and nothing unnatural about them. Jesse took one last careful look over her shoulder, at the silent children who faded from view.

Look at that, Ryan said, gritting his teeth, trying to pretend that carrying the boy was not hurting his back. The way ahead seemed blocked by some sort of wall, and as they came closer they saw that it was, made out of cars; they stopped and merely looked at them, the barrier of them piled on one another, some crushed and some strangely intact, trucks, vans, tiny hatchbacks, all with names Ryan said he’d never heard of – a Jefferson Dericho, an American Spiritus, another Jefferson, this time a Bonfire, and finally a coupe utility that had Ryan bent over in near hysterics called Black Power. Black appeared to be the company, name, Jesse realized, seeing it on a compacted van, and although she wouldn’t allow herself the laughter, she felt it just the same.

Ryan realized that the entrance inside was the simplest, opening the door to a mostly workable station wagon and crawling across the seat to open the other door. He turned and gestured for the boy to follow him, but Denny was pulling back, tugging on Ryan’s pant leg. That’s a bad place, he said. Bad things in there.

The forest was silent around them; it was a kind of night above them with the trees so interlocked that not even the dull dead sky could shine through. I guess we could go around, Ryan muttered, starting to back out of the car. No way to tell how big this fucking place is, but maybe we’re not being smart.

Jesse bit her lip, deciding; she kneeled down and took Denny’s hands.

What kind of bad things? she asked him.

Demons, she heard in her mind, in the little boy’s adorable voice. Demons are coming.

She tried hard to keep her expression calm but Ryan, ever vigilant, saw that something had happened. What? he demanded, dropping to a knee.

It’s nothing, Jesse said; she’d encountered worse and not long ago, but she was shaking.

The boy, sidled up next to Ryan, noticed the gun and grabbed it, pulling it free. Ryan caught him, gently taking it away. What is it? The boy asked.

It’s a gun, Ryan said. It makes a noise and a piece of metal comes out of it fast.

Why?

To kill, Jesse said.

Ryan looked at her. Nice thing to tell a kid.

It’s the truth, she said, and realized she was the odd one out now, and did not like it.