They Came Back Wrong

It all started because Jimmy kept begging us to go see his latest discovery in the woods behind our subdivision. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Called it the find of the century. Said it would make us all rich. At the very least it was super fucking cool.

We were always focused on making cash. Whether by trying to sell junk we found in the woods or by your standard schemes of lemonade stands or mowing lawns, money fueled us. When we were ten years old, Jimmy made our little group follow him to a half-eaten deer. Cool, sure, but wouldn’t make us any bucks. Nobody would care. Another time, it was an 80s porno mag, and we didn’t know that until we hiked all the way out there. “Jimmy,” I told him, lifting up the damp and mildewy magazine, “you could’ve just brought it to us.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied.

When we were twelve, he found an old bathtub out in the woods. No reason it should be a half-mile hike from civilization, but there it was. Took us about two days to move that cast iron bastard out of there. We used ropes and an old wooden sled and spent more time fixing our rig than anything. Then we find out it wasn’t worth spit. Jimmy’s dad made me take it to the dump. Ended up costing us two dollars to throw away. No one ever could give us a straight answer why it’d been out there. Later, when I told my dad, he chewed me out for going into the woods. Never go past the spray-painted trees with the giant Xs on them. We hadn’t, of course—even Jimmy knew better than to go that far—but that didn’t matter. Stay out of the goddamn trees. Every parent always said it, and they’d given us a hard line not to cross.

And we never did.

It was our freshman year in high school when Jimmy came barreling into my house after class, covered in more dirt and leaves than usual. Told me I had to go with him. It was better than anything he’d shown us before.

I waved him off. I was falling behind in Geometry and had a big test that Friday. Didn’t have time for one of his wild duck hunts. “I got homework.”

“After that.”

“Jimmy—”

“Nathan.” He cut me off, grabbing my arm. Jimmy was shorter than all of us, maybe five-three, a buck twenty dripping wet, but his grip was so strong. The look on his face so resolute. He almost looked afraid, in retrospect. “You gotta see it. It’ll change everything.”

********************

I was surprised when he showed up in my backyard that night with Enrique in his Cubs hat and Harold in that leather jacket he found in his grandpa’s attic. I was Jimmy’s best friend since we were still shitting our shorts, so convincing me was one thing, but these two didn’t always take kindly to Jimmy’s trips in the woods. Needed a bit more push and shove.

Maybe whatever this was would actually be worthwhile for once.

We’d been walking more than half an hour—the entire time Enrique and Harold arguing about who was going to win the upcoming election, Bush or Gore—when I finally asked Jimmy how much longer it would be. In the glow of our flashlights, he looked lost, his eyes all over the place. “Just a little further.”

“Farther,” I corrected him. “You’re referring to distance.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Just a little further and farther then, asshole.”

“Any deeper and we’ll go past the Xs,” Enrique said, adjusting his cap.

Jimmy didn’t respond.

A twinge turned in my stomach. “Shit, Jimmy, is this thing past them?”

“My dad will kill me if we go that far,” Harold said. He crossed his arms, the leather jacket creaking like it needed oil. “Like straight up infanticide.”

“You’re too old for it to be infanticide,” Enrique said. “I think at this point it’s just regular murder.”

“Justifiable homicide even.”

“Dude you gotta stop watching Law and Order.”

I waved my hand for them to shut up. “Jimmy. Is it past the Xs?” When he nodded, I groaned. “We’re going back, this was stupid.”

“Wait,” Jimmy said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

He pointed back the way we came, shining his light. My whole body went cool when I saw what his beam illuminated. The trees behind us all had red Xs on them. Dozens and dozens as far as I could see.

Behind us.

“You already broke the rules,” Jimmy said. “Might as well witness the most amazing thing you’ll ever see.”

********************

We arrived at it after five minutes of walking past the red Xs.

Hole wasn’t the right word to use. It was about six feet across, cut perfectly down into the earth. Almost mechanical, or like a giant’s finger pressed straight into the ground. Our flashlights didn’t touch the bottom. It kept going for what seemed like forever. Maybe void is a better term. Or abyss. That’s probably right. It did feel like it was staring back at you.

At me.

Enrique yelled something in Spanish into it, his rolled Rs bouncing off the walls. After a few seconds, his words came back at almost the same volume as he yelled them. We all jumped back.

“See?” Jimmy said. “Pretty fucking groovy, right?”

Jimmy was always using older slang like that. Far out. You dig? Lay it on me, brother. He always said he was born at the wrong time.

“Pretty weird,” I said. Everything about this gave me a bad feeling. My skin buzzing, the hair on my neck crawling. “Who do you think dug this?”

“Maybe it was a mine or something,” Harold said.

“I don’t think mines go straight down,” Enrique said.

“Well maybe that’s why they stopped,” Harold told him. “They did it wrong.”

Without saying anything, Jimmy took out a smaller flashlight, turned it on, and chucked it over the side. We leaned over the expanse and watched the gleam spin in the air, almost like the red and blues of my dad’s sheriff’s cruiser. It continued to tumble for maybe ten or twelve seconds before it disappeared from view. If it hit anything, we never heard it.

“What…the fuck?” I said slowly.

“That was at least three hundred feet down,” Enrique said. “I mean, using the average speed something falls.”

“Okay nerd,” Harold said. “We get it, you listened in math class.”

“I listened in science class, idiot.”

“Maybe it went further than three hundred feet, bitch.”

“Farther.”

“Guys,” I said, slicing my arm through the air. “Shut up.”

I yelled the last two words, and they bounced into the hole. After a handful of seconds, they came back to me, like the emptiness was giving me an order. But shut up came back a little weird. I can’t explain it fully. It was wrong, like it was pretending to be me. I stepped back from the edge.

“We’re going to make a fortune,” Jimmy said, his eyes the size of Oreos.

“How’s that, J-Man?” Harold asked.

“We’ll sell tickets,” he said. “Bring people out here. Charge twenty bucks a head.”

“To do what, exactly?” I asked.

Jimmy stared at me like I was an absolute dumbass. “To look at the hole. To study it. I don’t know.” He put his hands on his waist and stared down. “This is going to be huge.”

I glanced at him and then the other two. “It’s just a hole, Jimmy.”

“It’s not just a hole,” he said. “Trust me.”

I knew he was right. It radiated an energy, like subatomic waves. But they weren’t good.

“How’d you find this anyway?” Harold asked.

Jimmy was about to speak then paused. “It was in my dreams.”

“You dreamed about it?” I asked.

“And then I found it,” he said, ignoring me. “It was right here. Exactly like in my vision.”

“Oh, now it’s a vision?” I asked.

“I don’t know how long it’s been here,” Jimmy said, stepping closer to the hole, “but I think it just showed up recently.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re past the Xs.” I looked back toward the tree line, still not believing we did the one thing our parents said not to do. That for the first time in our lives, we were on the other side of the red Xs. “We gotta go back or our dads will fucking kill us.”

“Probably my mom will kill me,” Enrique said. “Don’t be sexist, Nathan.”

“I’d like your mom to kill me,” Harold said, a grin on his face. “If you know what I mean.”

Jimmy scowled. “Guys, let’s focus on the matter at—”

“You mean the stupid hole in the ground?” Harold asked, cutting him off. “This is nothing, man. Like, I really thought for once one of your lame ideas would be cool.”

“What?” Jimmy asked, his eyes wide.

I stepped forward and said, “Harold, man, come on.”

“This is just like every other time,” Harold said. “We head out here and it’s some dumb bullshit. We could’ve been playing Mario Kart or something. But no, just another Jimmy-centric waste of time.”

“You aren’t listening,” Jimmy said, his voice full of venom. His breathing quickened, his anger getting the best of him. The words came back from the hole with that strange quality attached.

—aren’t LISTENING

Harold and Enrique looked at the hole, their jaws fumbling open. My stomach tumbled as Jimmy continued. “People need to know about this.”

—people NEED TO KNOW

I raised my hands in what I hoped was a peaceful gesture. “Jimmy, you need to calm down, bud.”

“You guys are always giving me shit,” he shouted, pointing a finger at the others, then at me. I took a few steps back, away from the hole. “Always acting like I’m not important.”

—I’m NOT IMPORTANT

“That’s not true,” I said, not sure if I was answering Jimmy or the echo.

“The fuck it isn’t. And this time, I found something actually worthwhile. This time I’m going to get to be cool.”

—to be COOL

“Jimmy,” Harold started. By the look on his face, I think he realized he’d gone too far, but Jimmy didn’t let him finish. Instead, Jimmy pulled back and punched Harold in the jaw.

Harold grabbed his face. “What the fuck, Jimmy?”

“This is my discovery. I won’t let you fuckers take it from me!”

—take it FROM ME

I don’t know if it was some kind of sixth sense, or if the hole had anything to do with it, but it was like I understood the upcoming chain of events. Even still, I couldn’t stop it.

Harold wound up and clocked Jimmy hard enough that he staggered backward a few feet to the edge of the hole. His foot hung perilously over the edge. I sprinted then, barreling toward him, my hand out.

The next second felt like slow motion. Jimmy began to fall. The look on his face changed from pure hate to abject terror. He looked at me, reaching for my hand, but I hadn’t moved fast enough. I felt his skin, cool from the night air, as it brushed mine, but he slipped through my fingers. And then, Jimmy was screaming, and falling, and falling, and falling. His voice echoed until it was just a tiny nothingness.

Then it was gone.

We leaned over the side of the pit, still trying to not get too close. Not wanting to join Jimmy.

“What do we do?” Enrique asked, his voice quivering.

“I didn’t mean for him to fall!” Harold said. “I swear!”

“We have to get help,” I said. “If we go back fast enough—”

“He’s dead,” Enrique said, his hands on his head. “There’s no way he’s not. You saw how far he fell. Nobody would survive that.”

Harold’s face dropped, the tears already forming in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I’m going to throw up.”

“We don’t know he’s dead,” I said. “He could’ve—”

“He’s fucking dead Nathan,” Enrique said. “Don’t be an idiot. It doesn’t matter who we go get. He’s gone.”

His words echoed back from the hole, repeating a few times.

—he’s gone

—he’s gone

—HE’S GONE

We all stared at one another, nobody wanting to make the first move. Nobody knowing what the next move even was.

“What do we do?” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“This will ruin my life,” Harold said. “We can’t tell anyone.”

I was about to respond when the ground began to rumble, slowly at first, then with an intensity that shook us all. The surprise of it made me topple, falling toward the hole. If it hadn’t been for Harold grabbing me at the last second, I would’ve joined Jimmy. We all moved away from the pit when we noticed it was getting bigger. Nearby trees began to fall in as it increased in width, expanding like a blot of ink on paper.

First, we took small steps back, unable to stop watching as the maw widened with every second. We had to backpedal quickly to keep up.

Then the swelling stopped. The woods quit shaking and the hole finished its growth spurt a good six feet from us. It was at least thirty feet wide now.

Slowly, I crept forward, brushing off Enrique’s hands as he tried to hold me back. Leaning over the edge, I stared into the blackness. I don’t know what I was looking for exactly, but I had that feeling again: Something stared back.

“Jimmy!” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Are you okay?”

Nothing. A few seconds later, the sound hit me like wind from a hurricane, knocking me over. It wasn’t my own words I heard, but it wasn’t Jimmy, either. It was a deep, bass-heavy sound, like a moan of someone—or something—in excruciating pain. It kept going, drowning out all the sound in the forest, so loud it rattled my bones, making it hard to breathe.

That’s when we ran.

********************

After we made it out of the forest, we stood in the darkness of my backyard, not sure what to do next. I went to open my mouth but the motion sensor floodlight on a neighbor’s house turned on, and we all instinctively ran toward the street.

It was only 8pm, but the only light came from the street lights and houses. I suddenly felt incredibly alone, like we were the only three people left in the world.

“What do we tell Jimmy’s parents?” Enrique asked, finally breaking the silence.

“We can’t tell them anything,” Harold said.

“Why not?” Enrique said. “Jimmy was our friend.”

Best friend, I thought. And now he’s gone.

“We would go to jail,” I told Enrique, the words just rolling out of my mouth. “Or worse.”

“Worse?” Harold asked.

“Maybe we can tell your dad,” Enrique said, though he completely lacked conviction.

I shook my head as tears stung my eyes. “He always said even though he was sheriff, he’d treat me like anyone else. I’d get no special treatment.”

“But maybe this time—”

I cut Harold off by smacking my hands together. The sound echoed through the nearby trees as the pain slivered through my palms and up to my elbows. “We can’t tell anyone,” I said, slowing my voice. “Jimmy’s dead, and it’s our fault. If anyone finds out, our lives will be ruined.”

Enrique started, “But—”

“We went past the Xs,” I said. “The one thing we’re not supposed to do, and this is what happened.” I ran my hand across my face, feeling awful for what I was saying, knowing fear was driving it. “But we can’t tell anyone.”

Enrique mumbled okay. Harold nodded. We shook hands, which felt like the right thing to do. Then they grabbed their bikes and pedaled in opposite directions. I watched as they faded into the darkness, just like when Jimmy fell.

Inside the house, Mom practiced piano for an upcoming church choir recital. The solemn notes of a dirge wafted through the living room as I entered the kitchen, almost in a daze. Mom gave me a quick nod as her fingers slalomed across the keys, her movements like those concert pianists we used to watch on PBS. It sounded like funeral music.

Would Jimmy’s mom ask her to play at his?

The thought hit me like a punch to my throat. I pulled at my t-shirt, hoping that would help, but no oxygen came. A hand on my shoulder made me jump.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dad stood behind me, pulling his hand back, clutching a newspaper with the other. He must’ve been sitting on the couch and I missed him. Dad always liked listening to Mom practice. He was a linebacker in college and still maintained that size. Whenever I didn’t expect to see him, it put me on edge.

I wanted to tell him everything. No, I’m not fine. Jimmy’s just dead and it's my fault.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I told him instead. I wiped at my eyes, noticing the tears on my cheeks.

“You don’t look okay, bud,” he said. Dad grabbed my shoulder again with his meaty hand. “Everything okay with your friends?”

“Why?” I said. “Why would you ask that?”

He grimaced and nodded slowly. “Becoming a teenager is hard, Nathan. Friends you’ve known all your life can change. Doesn’t mean they’re bad.” He squeezed my shoulder two times. “You’re going to change, too, you know? And that’s normal.”

The music stopped. The lid of the piano clamping down came from the living room.

“It’s not that,” I said, shrugging his hand off.

“Then what is it?” he asked. He crossed his arms, crushing the newspaper awkwardly against his chest.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked, wrapping an arm around Dad.

“The boy’s having some problems with his friends,” Dad said. “But it’ll work itself out.”

Mom did that scrunched up face thing she does when she’s concerned that made her look like she was sucking on a lemon. “I hope it does. Maybe a good night’s sleep can help?”

********************

That night, I dreamed of the hole. It swelled and contracted with a rhythm of someone breathing. As I walked toward it from the trees, the pit picked up its respiration, anticipating me with a strange desire. From within, a deep red glow shone on the nearby trees, elongating their shadows into daggers. Jimmy stood next to it, his face a mix of dark swirling shapes. He reached for me, grabbing my arm with a vice grip, dragging me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop him as he pulled me over the chasm, the crimson light so bright I couldn’t see anything below.

Jimmy’s face changed again, his eyes too big, his mouth too wide, his teeth too long. He became a monster, whatever semblance of him that remained was hidden deep within. As he held me over the empty space, my feet dangling over the infinity below, Jimmy told me the hole gets what it wants.

Then, he let go.

I woke up covered in sweat, my brain soggy and my body weak, like I hadn’t slept at all.

School that day was a daze. Enrique and Harold both looked like I felt. My stomach twisted when I saw their faces, how they looked away from me, how their eyes blamed me for what they felt. When I tried talking to them, they said we had nothing to say to each other. In second period, as my brain hissed at me about doing the right thing, I almost asked if I could go see the guidance counselor, but chickened out. When I saw Jimmy’s empty desk just before third period started, I ran to the bathroom and puked.

I made it back to class seconds before the bell, my stomach flipping with each step. My eyes flashed toward Jimmy’s desk again, but this time, I saw a figure. A new student? Someone moved seats?

When the person turned to look at me as I sat down, my skin went cold. Same hair. Same glasses. Same…everything.

Smiling at me, was Jimmy.

********************

Jimmy told us after school he managed to make his way out. When we asked how, he waved his hand, said it didn’t matter. When I told him about the void growing, about the sounds, about everything, he just nodded and laughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’ll happen.”

We needed to go back, he said. We needed to bring others. More must see the hole. Jimmy repeated that line he told me in my dream, along with a few others.

The hole gets what it wants.

Everyone needs to see how incredible it is. 

See how beautiful and strange it is.

Experience a joy you never thought possible.

“And if we don’t bring anyone?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Bad things, guys. Real bad things.”

Enrique took off his Cubs hat and fidgeted with it. “I don’t know. We’re not even supposed to be in that part of the woods.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Jimmy said. “Our parents wanted to keep this from us. They’re afraid of its power, even though they shouldn’t be.”

“Power?” Harold asked. He looked interested. “Like what—?”

“Jimmy,” I said, cutting him off but choosing my next words carefully. “This sounds…crazy. Maybe you hit your head on the way down. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

Jimmy glared at me, his eyes so fierce and full of hatred I involuntarily took a step back. But quickly, Jimmy receded back into his normal pleasant self. “You saw everything with your own eyes,” he said. “It’s not crazy. It’s real, and you shouldn’t be afraid of it.”

“It was an earthquake,” I said. “Fracking or something. Creates lots of sinkholes. My dad told me one took a house on the western edge of the county a month ago.”

Enrique added, “And what about when it moaned at us?”

The memory flooded me then, causing my skin to ripple. “Guys, this is…things like this aren’t real. We must be hallucinating or something.”

“Then come with me.” Jimmy set his hand on my shoulder. “Come tonight. Bring others. Let me show you. Let me prove it to all of you.”

Even through my jacket, his hand was freezing. I shrugged it off and shook my head. “I think I’ve seen enough of the woods for a while.” I turned to Enrique and Harold. “You guys aren’t going, right?”

They looked noncommittal. Jimmy said all were welcome. 

“The hole has so many wonders and delights,” he said. “You only live once, you know?”

********************

A few days later, animals started to go missing.

First, our neighbor, Mrs. Kraus, came over and asked if we’d seen her tabby cat Franklin. Then, after school, I noticed the flyers stapled to telephone poles on Main Street. Cats, dogs, bunnies, even a horse had all gone missing. Kids in class were mentioning they hadn’t seen their pets in days.

At breakfast on the third day, Dad said they found a golden retriever on the southern edge of the county, trying to cross the river. It bit two of his deputies and escaped from the cruiser, jumping out the window while the car was in motion. They stopped and chased after it, but it was too fast. They last saw it heading south.

Away from the woods.

It was the last pet anyone saw for some time.

Mom said maybe there was a predator in the woods causing the animals to leave. Dad said that could be the case, then turned to me.

“You’re not going in the woods, right?” he said.

“No way,” I told him, shaking my head fast.

“Probably should keep it that way. Maybe I’ll send in a few guys to check things out.”

Anxiety grew inside me. “Dad, why aren’t we supposed to go past the red Xs?”

His face grew taut. “Why? Shit, son, did you go past them?”

“No, I was just wondering, is all.”

“It’s dangerous,” he said. “Nobody should go that way. Ever.”

I paused, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I asked, “But why?”

Mom slammed her fist on the table and pointed a finger at me. “Because your father said so. Why can’t you just listen?” She stifled back a quick sob, her eyes watering.

Dad reached over and put a hand over hers, rubbing her wrist with his thumb. He turned to me and said, “You need to tell us if you ever know of anyone going past them. Okay?”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He waited, staring into my eyes. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze, thinking if I kept looking I’d crack and spill my guts. “Nathan. Tell me the truth. Do you know of anyone who has?”

After a long moment, I finally told him no, and, flashing a look at my mother, that I would be late for school. Mom’s face was covered in tears.

********************

Enrique and Harold weren’t in homeroom, but Enrique left a note in my locker: Bathroom. (Boys, you creepo.) I found him leaning against a wall by the stalls, running a hand through his curly hair, not caring about the stench that hung in the air. Something was wrong with Harold, he said. No, he corrected himself: Harold was wrong.

“Wrong how?” I asked.

“Like how Jimmy’s wrong,” he said. “I think maybe Harold went with him to the hole.”

I blinked, knocked back on my feet. “No way, he’s too smart to do something that stupid.”

“You look at him then tell me what you think.”

I saw Harold later in gym class. He gave me a nod of recognition, but that was it. While we played dodgeball, his movement seemed…off kilter. We watched a video in science class last month of a new deer being born, how it walked awkwardly right after. Harold moved like that. All stiff, unsure about his own body. He was the closest thing to a jock in our group. It didn’t make sense.

I tried talking to him before we showered, but he put a finger to his lips. “Don’t speak of it,” he told me.

The words came out like an old radio tuned to a just-out-of-range AM station. He cleared his throat and spoke again, this time, his voice normal. “It’s all going to be fine, Nathan.”

The way he spoke numbed my skin. It was like he were a puppet, something else speaking through him.

As he walked into the showers, I thought, Then who’s pulling the strings?

********************

More kids started acting strange. Julie, who I had a crush on last year. David, who had his birthday party at the mall. Anne, whose mom was my third-grade teacher. All showed up to school one day with their movements herky-jerky, their smiles too long, voices that made them sound like old radios. It seemed like none of the adults noticed. When Marybeth tripped over her own legs in gym class, Mr. Henderson told her she was growing too fast for her own good. Tyler walked to the chalkboard and began writing some strange symbols for about half a minute during algebra before Mrs. Waite told him to sit down and do the in-class assignment.

Only Mr. Pitts seemed suspicious. Every so often in biology, I’d catch him watching Jimmy, eyeing Harold and the others. I’d known the teacher for years. He was high school friends with my Mom and Dad, and sometimes came over to our house. You could catch him almost every day running laps around my neighborhood. But if he had suspicions, he didn’t act on them.

When Becky pulled a giant patch of her own hair out during an assembly, then held it up toward me, that dead smile on her face, nobody else even gave her a look. It was like she was invisible. Others started to lose their hair in less violent ways. A few buzzed their heads preemptively. The teachers thought it was some kind of end-of-year prank and the principal sent out a letter. My parents told me I’d be grounded if I “joined in.”

A week later, Jimmy stopped showing up to school. I’d see him on the street sometimes as I rode my bike home. He was always walking with other kids, heading north. Toward the woods. Toward the hole. Every time I saw him, something inside of me hurt, missing my former friend, not understanding what was happening. Not understanding why he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

And then he gave me a simple head nod.

He still had all of his hair.

********************

Jimmy answered the door at his house when I knocked. His smile was huge, like he won something. “You’ve come,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“Can we talk?”

His eyes bore into me, a spark flickering for just a second, but then it was gone. He walked through the foyer toward the basement stairs. I followed, closing the door behind me.

His house had always been warm and inviting, his mom often baking treats for the school bake sales, the smell of sugar lingering in the air. The sound of a television or music somewhere, the house always feeling busy. Now, it was silent and the overpowering reek of sweat mixed with earth and mildew caused me to gag. The normally pristine white carpet was covered in dark footprints, trails leading in from the sliding back door that opened to the backyard. Through its glass were a copse of trees that led to the larger forest. To the hole.

I shuddered, discomfort rushing through me, wondering who all those footprints belonged to, and where they were now.

Before I followed Jimmy to the basement, movement to my left caught me. Jimmy’s father stared at me from their living room’s giant leather couch, his face cast in shadow. He ran our Cub Scouts troop, always affable and great to be around. Now, his eyes drilled into me, wearing a soiled dress shirt untucked into torn chinos, his mouth open, drool running down his chin. His lips upturned into a sinister smile. I ran down the stairs.

The temperature dipped as I stepped into the basement. The overhead lights were turned off but some natural light crept in through the tiny windows. Jimmy stood in the middle of the room; it was completely empty, all the furniture gone.

“You have to stop this,” I told him.

“Stop what?”

I gestured around. “This! Whatever the fuck this is, man. It has to stop.”

“It can’t.”

“Why not?”

Jimmy took a step forward, coming more into the light. His smile was so wide, like he was in a fit of religious ecstasy. “It’s inevitable. The hole gets what it wants.”

“Fuck that,” I said, my anger rising. “You need to stop this, Jimmy. It isn’t like you.”

“I am what the hole needs me to be.”

I slapped him, my hand reaching out automatically like a defensive maneuver. Immediately, I felt ashamed and apologized. Jimmy rubbed his face. For a brief moment, something about his demeanor changed, his posture shifted.

“Nathan?” he asked. “Nathan, I don’t know what’s going on.” All confidence left his voice, and his face reminded me of an elderly man who wandered away from his nursing.

“Jimmy?” I grabbed his arm. “Is that you?”

Thunder on the stairs grabbed my attention. About ten kids I didn’t recognize barreled down, quickly surrounding me. Different ages, most of them with their hair either falling out or completely bald. One, the tallest, pointed a knife at me. I stepped back from Jimmy as my heart leapt into my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

“No,” Jimmy said, stepping forward through the crowd, confident again, standing tall, his face back to before. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

The kids parted, making a path toward the stairs. I looked at Jimmy, wishing for something to say, but, instead, I left, their eyes burning my skin the whole way out of the house.

********************

A few blocks from my house, I realized that Jimmy wasn’t my friend anymore. Whatever happened to him was only getting worse, and I felt if I told my parents, they’d think I was insane. That left only one other option. The only other adult I could trust.

Mr. Pitts turned a corner in his red running shorts and black Chicago Bulls windbreaker. He stopped when he saw me, surprised. “Nathan,” he said, catching his breath. “Everything okay?”

“Why can’t we go past the red Xs in the woods?”

He leaned to one side, stretching his legs as his face contorted. “What?”

“It’s important, Mr. Pitts. Nobody will tell me. I need to know why we can’t go beyond the red Xs.”

“Nathan, I don’t know—”

“It’s a matter of life or death.”

That caught him by surprise. He looked around, but we were alone in every direction. His normally wavy hair matted to his head with sweat. “This was before you were born,” he said, “but something bad happened out in the woods.”

“What?”

He winced at the memory. “Not everyone made it, but you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Nathan, no, you don’t.” He shook his head and his legs were restless. He radiated energy. “We took care of it. It can’t hurt anyone ever again. The red Xs are just a reminder. Nothing’s back there.”

I swallowed. “That’s not true. Something bad is happening, Mr. Pitts. We have to do something.”

He stopped moving and studied me. Then his lips curled into a smile. His eyes seemed to go dead, the light behind them blinking out of existence like a distant star. “What’s back there now isn’t a problem, Nathan,” he said. “It’s glorious.”

“Mr. Pitts?”

He stepped forward into my space, still breathing heavily. Only then did I noticed the hair missing from the side of his scalp.

“Jimmy’s asked you to go,” he said. “Why won’t you listen to your best friend?”

I ran, expecting Mr. Pitts to follow, but when I turned to look, all I saw was him in the distance waving at me.

I knew then what I had to do next.

********************

“What do you mean you went beyond the red Xs?”

My father leaned back against our kitchen counter, still dressed in his uniform, his holster occasionally thudding against the marble. His arms were crossed, his face sheer confusion. Mom sat at the table across from me, her hand over her mouth. She looked ready to puke.

“A few weeks ago,” I told him. “Jimmy took us to this big hole, and by the time I realized where we were—”

Dad smacked his hands together, the sound like a gunshot. I stopped talking and jumped back, recalling how I’d done the same thing to hush Enrique and Harold just days ago.

“We don’t talk about it,” he said, his voice dreary. He ran a hand across his mouth, wiping the words away. “Did you go in it?”

“No,” I told him. “God no.”

Relief washed across his face. I noticed his hand resting on his holster; he quietly snapped it closed. Tears welled in my mother’s eyes. She asked, “Are you dreaming about it?”

I nodded. “Almost every night.”

Mom gave a somber look and whimpered. Dad moved across the kitchen toward the window overlooking the sink. He leaned forward and stared toward the trees. Toward the hole.

My pulse thudded in my ears, drowning out other sounds. Waves of anxiety ran down my spine like little spiders, tickling the rest of my body. I rubbed my hands together, unsure of what to do. Of what to even say.

“Okay,” he finally said when he turned around, his eyes also wet with tears. “We can fix this. We’ve done it before. You stay here, okay?”

“What’s happening?” I asked. My voice squeaked.

“We don’t talk about it,” my mother said as she walked past, grabbing a jacket for her and Dad.

“Then what are you doing right now?” I asked.

“We don’t talk about it,” my father said, emphasizing the words.

“I’ll call Pitts,” Mom said.

“Good idea.”

“Don’t call him,” I said. They looked at me, then at each other. Like they knew.

“Okay,” Dad said, nodding in acknowledgment. “Then I’ll radio in Jennie and Clarice instead. Get them to spread the word.”

“Do you think any of them still remember how to…” Her voice trailed off as a look of terror washed over her. My father reached out, put a hand on her forearm and rubbed it.

“How to do what, Mom?”

“We don’t talk about it, son,” my father said as he opened a door leading to the garage. The sound of opening locks echoed. Mom picked up the phone and dialed. She told someone to meet where they knew not to tread. She closed her eyes as she said it’s happened again.

After she hung up, my father stepped back in, holding a shotgun and a box of shells. He gave me a sideways hug, squeezing long and hard. Mom did the same and kissed my cheek, telling me to not wait up, her hands holding mine for a few seconds. Then my father put on his Stetson and told me to not let anyone in. Then they walked out the door.

I saw him in the backyard calling something in on his radio. He waited for a response but I don’t think one came. Then, with one long, last look toward the house, he turned and walked into the woods, shotgun facing forward, my mother following closely behind. As I watched them disappear, I wondered if this would be the last image I’d have of them—walking into the woods, never to be seen again. I felt so alone.

A few hours later, it was full dark and they hadn’t come home. I sat on the back porch with a blanket, watching the woods, waiting. At one point, I thought I felt the ground tremble, but it could’ve been a big truck driving by. Eventually, I fell asleep in one of our Adirondack chairs. Boots on the wooden porch woke me up. At first, I only saw a dark, foreboding shape before me. I instinctively jerked back as it stepped into the light.

My father. Mom was still in the yard, her back facing me for some reason. Staring toward the woods.

“Everything is fine now,” he said.

“Did you go to the hole?”

Dad looked toward the trees. “It was a false alarm.”

“A what?”

He moved closer and I got a better look at him. His eyes were off. The way he stood, like he almost couldn’t balance. Like he was drunk, even though my parents didn’t drink.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said. “Just go to bed, all right, kiddo?”

His voice had a tinny quality to it, like it was coming from somewhere else.

Just like the others.

He smiled, but his eyes looked lifeless. “Everything is going to be fine, son.”

********************

School was canceled the next morning—at least, that’s what my parents said. They told me to go play with my friends, but I didn’t, even though I hadn’t seen any of them in a few days. Most stopped showing up at school a few days after they lost their hair. I stayed in my room most of the morning, occasionally peeking out the window. I saw kids holding their parents’ hands, walking them toward the woods. A few came back hours later, jerking their bodies awkwardly.

The doorbell woke me up from a nap. I heard the front door open and someone walk down the hall toward my room. Thump thump thump. I recognized the knock.

Jimmy closed the door behind him. He looked the same—short, dark hair, green eyes, glasses—but still, something about him was wrong. Like he’d broken and been reconstructed by someone who didn’t have the manual. “It’s better if you join, you know,” he said.

“Jimmy, what’s going on?” I knew the answer, but wanted him to say it. I needed someone to prove I wasn’t going insane.

“You’re my best friend,” he said. “Why won’t you just join me?”

The way he talked made me feel queasy. I nodded north toward the woods. “If it’s so great, why don’t you just go hop back in?”

His face soured. “It doesn’t work like that. You can only go in once. If you go a second time…” His voice trailed off. “You can only go in once.”

I got the idea. Or thought I did.

“I don’t want to make you,” he said. “But I will.” He grabbed the doorknob behind him and turned to leave.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.

Jimmy looked back toward me, that elongated smile crossing his face then crumbling. There he was! Just for a second, there he was. The Jimmy I knew. But then he gnashed his teeth at me and it made my stomach churn.

The thing that took Jimmy shut the door behind him and left me to weep in a silent house.

********************

I walked my bike along the sidewalk. This time of day, you’d expect a dozen people out and about, but there was hardly anyone walking around. The heavy air sagged, the way it did before a thunderstorm, but the skies were clear. Parked cars made it seem like activity should be buzzing. As I passed the grocery store, I looked in and saw people just standing around like they were waiting for something to do. A customer stood in front of the checkout counter, nothing rolling on the conveyor belt, but the blonde checkout girl with braces scanned items like they were. People moped down the aisles, their carts empty, their faces even more desolate.

I crept down the street, leaning my bike against the closed Radio Shack, and peered around the corner toward the sheriff’s office. It was a squat two-story brick building, next to the drab structure of city hall. A handful of squad cars were parked out front. I moved down the street, my head on a swivel, looking for movement. A man sat in the gazebo in the town square, staring into the distance. His head turned as I passed, so I sped up to get out of his sight. Approaching the sheriff’s office, my heart beat faster and I felt lightheaded. I forced myself to breathe slower, trying to stay in control. Someone would be able to help. I just knew it.

I peered into the sheriff’s office through its large sheet glass windows, hoping to see someone I recognized. A half-dozen uniformed men sat at desks, staring straight ahead, doing nothing. Dread settled in my chest. The old receptionist stared right at me, her eyes unflinching. Her phone rang continuously, but she ignored it.

I ducked out of sight, the ringing giving me an idea. I moved down the block to a payphone, flipping through the Yellow Pages for the sheriff’s office the next county over. I put in a few quarters and dialed, trying to decide how I would explain everything.

The call stopped, only ringing twice before quitting. I examined the receiver as my quarters tumbled into the change tray. When the dial tone returned, I put the coins in again and double-checked the number before dialing again. The second time, it didn’t even ring once.

A woman’s bright voice came onto the line, asking who I was trying to reach. I told her the sheriff’s office in the next county over.

“The call isn’t going through,” I explained. “I’m just trying to reach anyone. Any of the sheriff’s offices nearby will do.”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.”

The pit in my chest grew. “What?”

“We can’t let you do that,” the woman said, her voice soothing and sweet. “The hole is warm and inviting. Why won’t you join us, Nathan?”

********************

I waited until my parents were asleep.

I’d spent the day scrounging what I could, taking cash from their wallets, packing extra food and water in my backpack. It hurt my back, dragging against my shoulders, but it would last.

Only ten miles to the next town, I thought while worming out my bedroom window. Wouldn’t take more than an hour or two. I grabbed my bike from the garage, then hid behind one of our front yard’s tall bushes, waited, and listened. No sounds other than the buzzing overhead streetlights. They cast long shadows across the ground, like giant fingers reaching to keep me from leaving. If I stayed in the middle of the street—where it was darkest—I thought maybe there’d be less chance of being seen.

I hopped on and pedaled west. Every house light was off, but there were headlights up ahead. A car sped toward me, slowed, then fully stopped. Mr. Pitts leaned out the window, leering at me. All his hair now gone. I pedaled faster, moving to the side. A bald man in his backseat cupped his hands and yelled at me as I passed: “You can’t escape, Nathan.”

His words only made my legs pump faster, my thighs burning. At this pace, maybe I’d make it to the next town in less time. I cut through a residential street and saw no one else until I turned another corner toward the exit leading to the county road.

Deputies’ cruisers blocked the street, the cherries on their hoods spinning blue and red. The men stood in front of their cars, giant smiles on their face, shotguns held at their chests like they were cradling babies. I skidded to a stop.

“You can’t escape,” one of them said. It was George Davidson. He coached my middle school basketball team. His face was plastered with a giant smile, the shadows from the blue and red making him look more menacing, like he was putting a different colored mask on every few seconds.

I turned and fled in the other direction, toward another exit that led to the county road. If I took that route, the next town was thirty miles away. However, when I finally made it to the other side of town, I saw the same thing—vehicles lined up, lights flashing, and men with weapons. Only this time, my father stood in the center, his revolver held at his side. It gleamed in the cascading red and blue. “You can’t escape,” he yelled toward me. “It has to be done!”

I turned and rode away, my legs pumping like redlining pistons. My mind went on autopilot as I sprinted for home, hoping maybe I’d be able to hide inside, but as I turned on my street, that hope died. Only one house was lit up, and that’s because it was on fire. My own. The blaze engulfed the entire place, rising like a pillar to the sky. As I pulled up, Mom stood in the driveway, gas can in hand, entranced by the flames. Half of her hair was already gone. With a menacing tone, she said, “You can’t escape.”

I heard steps then, like people marching. Coming from both directions I saw dozens of people moving toward me. Their mostly bald heads gleamed from the inferno. Other houses in the neighborhood lit up, flames rising everywhere, the brilliance giving everything an ethereal glow. I had no way to go. I was trapped. They were right. There was no escape.

I bolted north, into the woods.

********************

Running blind, I couldn’t hear anything other than my heavy breathing and my jackhammering heart. The treacherous woods changed since I’d last been in, more roots ready to trip you, the ground less even, infinite rocks to stumble on. At some point, I noticed a vibration, a humming, like when you stood too close to a power station, but I kept moving. Lights ahead slowed me up, but I’d also started to notice the people. Every dozen or so yards, someone stuck their head from around a tree, staring. That same dead smile on everyone’s face.

At last I entered a clearing. Pikes protruded from the ground, flames blazing on top of them, giving the whole area an otherworldly shimmer. In the middle was the hole. It was massive now, half the width of a football field at least.

Jimmy stood in front of the hole, along with a handful of others. My mom and my dad. My other friends. Some of my closest teachers. All bald, all smiling, all holding their hands on their chests. Humming like cicadas, filling the whole world with their sound, their voice, everything as one.

“It thanks you,” Jimmy said. “You will soon join us all. You can’t believe the joy you will feel.”

My mouth was dry, my lips chapped, no words available. The hole pulsed, expanding and contracting like a person breathing, and with each beat I stepped toward it, pulled by its gravity. I tried to fight it, but it felt comforting to give in, like getting to sleep in your parents’ bed when you stayed home sick from school. Maybe that’s what was in the hole. Maybe that’s what I needed.

A few steps from the abyss, I turned to Jimmy. “You did all of this?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “We did all of this.”

He opened his arms wide and I rushed into them, wrapping mine around him. It felt so good, like I finally belonged, like I was finally a part of something greater than myself. But this was all wrong. A small part of me screamed, told me to get out, run away, and save myself.

“Yes,” I told Jimmy. “Yes we did.”

Gripping him even tighter, I lurched toward the hole. Jimmy held firm, realizing what I was doing, his strength somehow incredible. I pushed harder but it did nothing—Jimmy was solid like a cement pillar. Tears welled in my eyes as I stared into Jimmy’s, hoping my friend was still in there.

“You were my best friend,” I told him.

“I still am,” he said, his voice calm as I felt my strength dwindling against his.

“No, you’re not Jimmy. Jimmy wouldn’t do this. Jimmy’s a good kid. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

“I’ve become even better, Nathan.”

“No!” I yelled. “The real Jimmy would never make me do something like this. The real Jimmy is in there. I know he is, and he can stop all of this.”

The humming crescendoed, the ground rumbling beneath my feet, shaking so hard I thought I’d vomit. The sound was almost too much to handle, and I was willing to do anything to make it stop. I looked toward the hole, thinking it could be an escape, but then something shifted in Jimmy’s face. Just a slight crack, something in his eyes, his whole demeanor softening. I didn’t know how, but it was Jimmy again. The real Jimmy. I felt his grip slacken.

“Do it,” he whispered. “I can’t hold it back any longer.”

I pulled and he staggered with me. His massive strength returned at the last second, his face molting into a snarl of fury, trying to wrench himself free of my grip, but it was too late.

Our momentum carried us over the edge, and then we were falling, falling, falling. As the world above us receded from view, the warmth spreading over my body turned to fire, as if every molecule of my being was compressing. I screamed but I had no mouth, I cried but no longer had eyes, I prayed for my soul but no longer had—

********************

My eyes flew open, the brightness blinding, and I instinctively rolled to my right, landing hard on the ground. Something entangled my body and I kicked, trying to get out, as it continued suffocating me.

“You’re okay!”

The voice stopped me. I recognized it. My eyes finally focused enough and I realized I was wrapped in my blanket on the floor of my bedroom. My mother leaned over me, a concerned look on her face, but also the hint of a smile. She brushed her hand across my cheek. It felt cool against my hot skin. My pajamas and bed sheets were soaked with sweat.

“Your hair,” I said, reaching toward her. “You have all your hair.”

“I’m not that old yet,” she said, reaching for her wavy locks. “Was that another one of the things you saw?”

“That I saw?”

“You were delirious,” she said. “You’ve been sick the last few days with a bad fever. Don’t you remember?”

I sat up on the floor, straining to look out the window toward the woods, expecting to see hundreds of bald people walking into the trees, ushering others along, but there was nothing. Just swaying branches and shivering leaves.

“He’s up?” My father’s voice boomed as he entered the room. He sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed my ankle with his rough hand. He wore his uniform and looked, well, normal. “You gave us quite the scare there, sport.”

“You stopped me from leaving the town.”

Dad looked at Mom for a moment, then smiled. “You were saying a lot of crazy stuff during your fever, but that’s all it was, kiddo. Nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

They felt so real. I tried to recall more details, but nothing came to me. The harder I tried to conjure the experience, the more it slipped away.

There was a knock on the door and Jimmy walked in. I pulled back, but when I looked closer, he appeared regular, though his eyes were slightly red like he’d been crying. Enrique and Harold followed behind him. As Mom and Dad moved toward the door, they said my friends could stay for a few minutes, but then they’d need to leave.

Jimmy brought notes from the classes I missed. Enrique had a copy of all the homework I needed to do—along with his graded copies, giving me a wink. Harold snuck me a Milky Way bar, which I devoured in seconds. After a few minutes of relaying the latest school gossip, they got up to leave, but I asked Jimmy to stick around for a few seconds.

“I had a dream about something in the woods,” I told Jimmy.

His eyes lit up. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “But it’s deep. Further than we’ve gone before.”

“Farther,” Jimmy corrected.

“I thought it was further?” I asked.

“Well, you thought wrong as shit, like usual.” Instead of smiling, Jimmy just stared at me, his face almost recoiling. “We can’t go beyond the red X’s,” he whispered. “You know that, right? It’s forbidden. Definitely not groovy.”

I told Jimmy when I was feeling better, we’d go on a little adventure. Maybe it was just a dream, but maybe not. As he closed the door behind him, I got a deep feeling from the woods behind me. It was warm and inviting, making me feel loved.

Like I belonged.