CHAPTER 101 SHERIFF ELLIE

101

Sheriff Ellie

ELLIE COULD SEE NOTHING.

With the door closed and the windows boarded up, not a sliver of moonlight found its way into the Pickerton house. The interior was freezing, like stepping into a walk-in refrigerator, like opening the door on a harsh winter night and stumbling out into the cold.

A light came to life and flooded the corner of the room.

Buck holding a flashlight.

What she saw made no sense.

The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all were covered in ice.

"It's like a goddamn ice cave in here," Buck muttered, swinging the beam around the room. "Where's it coming from?"

Mason and Evelyn were standing just inside the door. The boy pointed at a hallway leading toward the back of the house. "That way, I think."

"Where's your brother and Riley?"

Evelyn pointed down the same hallway.

Buck didn't wait for Ellie to ask. He stepped around what was left of an old grandfather clock on the floor and worked his way toward the back of the house, his heavy hiking boots leaving a trail on the frosty floor, his breath wisping through the air in white plumes.

They found both Riley and Robby standing at the door of a bedroom at the back of the old house.

The fallen tree they'd spotted outside had taken out a good chunk of the already failing structure, cut right through the ceiling and wall, and landed on what was left of an old bed. Several of the thick branches had punched right through the floor, and others filled the small space as if the tree had grown there; bastardized branches crawled around the air in a frantic search for daylight and nourishment. Not finding any, they'd withered and begun to die. It looked like it might have been that way for a hundred years, but Ellie knew that hadn't been the case. The house might have been abandoned, but between kids, tourists, and the random local, someone would have seen this, right? Told her? She sent Matt up here every few weeks to take a look around; surely he would have noticed.

No.

This was new.

This was fresh.

This had happened today.

Ellie couldn't prove it, but she was fairly certain that ugly old tree had fallen at the exact same moment that girl had appeared in the diner. It fell as those birds dropped from the sky. All of it together. All of it connected.

The branches were covered in crows, unmoving, and as Ellie stepped closer she realized they were slicked with frost and frozen in place. Yet she couldn't help but believe their eyes still watched them, followed them as they entered the room.

"Don't touch anything," Ellie whispered. "Not a damn thing."

"Maybe we should go back outside."

But even as Buck said that, Ellie knew it wasn't possible. They could all hear the birds out there, the air thick with them and more coming. They were thudding against the door and windows, the walls—some by flight, others pecking at the wood, all trying to get in. She glanced at the hole in the ceiling, the dark sky beyond. How long before the birds realized where they were and came down through there? Where would they go then?

Robby stepped closer to the tree, got within an inch of one of the frozen birds. "It's breathing."

"What's that on the bed?" Evelyn asked, pointing at the mattress.

Mason chuffed. "The high schoolers bang on there. It's probably—"

"It's black mold," Buck interrupted. "Don't touch it. It'll make you really sick."

"I wasn't planning on touching it either way. It's freakin' gross."

"It's on the ceiling, too," Evelyn pointed out.

Ellie looked up, realized she was right. There was a large black stain on the plaster directly over the large black stain in the mattress. And there was—

That couldn't be right.

Ellie stepped closer.

Buck had caught it, too, and positioned the flashlight at a slight angle to make it easier to see.

Black dust was rising from the bed, through the air, to the ceiling. Connecting both spots. Not dust, though, and while Ellie wanted to believe it was mold as Buck had said, she wasn't so sure about that, either. This was something else.

"Help me move the mattress."

Buck hesitated for a second, then handed his flashlight to Riley and set down his shotgun. He grabbed the far corner and nodded at one of the tree branches, the one that had gone through the mattress when the tree fell. "That one punched down into the floor. We'll need to twist the mattress. Go clockwise on three."

When the mattress didn't move, Mason grabbed a corner, Evelyn and Robby, too, as Riley kept the light trained. They heaved together.

The tree let out a rough groan, like it didn't want to let go, then relented.

The mattress turned like an old stone marking a tomb.

Buck had been right—that single thick branch had gone right through the mattress, down through the floor, and left a jagged tear in the hardwood.

Ellie knew the house didn't have a basement. There wasn't even a crawlspace. It had been built on a giant slab of granite ledge, and while it was physically impossible for a tree branch to punch a hole through something as substantial as solid stone, somehow this branch had. Beneath the splintered wood, there was a gaping maw, a crack in the rock so deep it only swallowed the beam of the flashlight when Evelyn drew closer.

"That smells disgusting."

The edges were thick with black mold. The spot on the floor was nearly twice the size of the ones on the mattress and ceiling. Frigid air rose through the hole, misty white tinted with flecks of black.

"Not so close," Ellie told the girl. "Probably shouldn't be breathing—"

Air burst up. A belch. An unearthly geyser from deep within the bowels below and Evelyn fell back. She instinctively grabbed the gnarled branch to keep from falling, and Ellie knew that was a mistake even as it was happening—she grabbed at the girl, tried to stop her. Mason did, too, but neither was fast enough. The instant Evelyn's fingers found the bark, they went white as icy frost glazed her skin, enveloped her—

My God, it's eating her!

Ellie's brain went to a childlike place at the sight of it, because her adult brain didn't understand. Didn't want to understand, as if not understanding could keep it from happening. But it did happen—the frost raced up Evelyn's arm, over her shoulder to her neck and head. The girl froze mid-scream, and while that should have silenced the shriek echoing through the room, it did not, and Ellie realized it was because she and Mason were both screaming, too, as the ice not only engulfed Evelyn but took them where they touched her.