Chapter 3

The silence is so thick I could cut it with my favorite butter knife. Nothing breaks it but the cries in the distance. My heart thunders in my ears.

When no one moves, I step away. The silence speaks louder than any words. I turn to the group, staring at each of them. We are ten people. We could take on bandits or a wendigo. The wendigo would likely avoid a group this big.

Then why is no one saying anything?

"Guys." A wan smile trembles on my lips. "We can't leave a child to die because we think it's a ghost."

The others look away. No one meets my eyes. The man with the booming voice is the only one who does, but he doesn't just look at me. He glares, his upper lip pulled up, his arms crossed over his chest.

I've seen that look one too many times. He isn't taking me seriously.

"I don't believe in ghosts," he starts, "but I do believe in bandits, and they'll come up with the craziest ideas to kidnap you."

Murmurs of acquiescence echo his words.

I tighten the hold on my backpack. "It's clearly a baby crying. We can't just leave it. Even if it is a bandit, we should find them and make sure the child's alright. Not being used in crimes. They can't hurt us if we go together." I raise my eyebrows. It's so clear. We're too many to be attacked, and then we can save a life. But the others don't look like they share my optimism. "What if a child's been abandoned? What if someone left it to die?"

An older lady meets my gaze. "I don't have phone service here, but as soon as I do, I'll call the police. Okay? They'll come to investigate."

Some nod in agreement. Others don't even bother pretending to care.

What's wrong with these people? Aren't we supposed to care for one another? To look after one another?

I shake my head. "It's freezing out here! By the time we have service, the baby will be dead."

"And how is that my problem, girl?" says the man with the booming voice. "I'm not risking my neck in a forest at night. There's no way I'm getting rabid for some imaginary baby."

"Imaginary baby?" My voice pitches higher. Blood floods my face and the heat makes my eyes sting. I blink the wetness away, forcing myself to control the urge to punch this idiot. "Are you saying you can't hear it? You're the only one who can't hear it?"

He shrugs, but I know he hears it just fine. Everyone does.

My arms shake. I close my hands into fists, controlling my breath. People haven't taken me seriously for years, and if I show emotions, they take me even less seriously. I always have to prove that I'm not crazy.

"What if it were your children?" I try as a last resort. "Wouldn't you want them to be saved? Wouldn't you be happy a stranger cared?" I ask, searching their faces.

Faces turn away, and feet shuffle on the gravel. My shoulders slump. It's this sinking feeling again—the feeling that I don't belong. The people around me are not on the same wavelength or in the same world.

And maybe it's because my hometown abandoned me. Maybe it's because I'm especially pissed that this mountain managed to bring me back. Or maybe I am crazy after all. But I can't accept this.

With a huff, I zip my coat to my chin. "Well, you can stand here on your high horses, but I won't let a child die by exposure when I can help it." I whirl around toward the forest.

The bus driver stomps his way to me, his eyes wide as he wipes his fingers on a dirty rag. "Did I hear it right? You want to take a stroll in the woods? In the middle of the night?"

I wave at the forest. "Can't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

For a second, I pause. Am I imagining it? I blink twice, staring at him. "You can't hear it?"

He rolls his eyes. "The obvious trap of someone pretending to be a baby? Yeah, I can hear that." He shoves the rag in his back pocket. "And I don't give a fuck. People fall for this kind of scam every day, kid. Now, get your pretty ass inside the store and wait for repairs, or I'm leaving you behind."

Nervous energy propels me forward. My fingers tremble as I yank my phone from my pocket. Its light flickers to life, pathetic against the approaching night.

I don't stop.

My breath mists before me. I keep my eyes peeled open as I cross the road.

These woods are the one place I've been running from… and it's the one place I can't avoid now.

"Kid, don't be a hero," the driver calls. "You're just getting yourself killed!"

"I don't care! This is not right!"

I will find this kid and I will prove to them that helping others is worth it. That we should have each other's backs.

With a last look at the indifferent faces, hoping against hope that someone will join me, I step into the shadows of the forest.

And I'm well aware that this is exactly how horror movies start.