Funny, I almost wished he was awake. I needed to ask someone—even just to hear the question aloud—what was that? I needed to hear that it wasn’t just me, and that someone else was confused and frightened too.

But no, it was definitely better this way, better to have him lying there beside the road where someone might find him. I thought about tossing him in the trunk anyway, just to be on the safe side, but it seemed like overkill. He needed medical attention too badly to pose any real threat, and furthermore, I had his gun. Let someone find him and take him to the hospital, or better yet, call the cops.

I checked the safety, then stuffed the gun down the back of my jeans, wincing when the cool metal touched my warm back. I didn’t really think that a gun would be any use against whatever energy had bowled us over, but I may as well hang on to it all the same.

You never know. Someone human was doing this, and someone human might need to get shot at.

And then I heard the voice, calling from the trees.

He’s coming. He’s coming, baby. You get yourself gone.

11
The Death of the Sisters

I

“No,” I said, to myself or to whoever could hear me. “No, of course I won’t. Mae, is that you? Mae?” I scanned the tree line for some grand sign, or for a glimpse of a ghost who must be there. I saw nothing but endless rows of knobby trees and wet green leaves. For another moment, all was still except for the distant, incessant trickling of water and a choir of insects.

Just when I thought I might have imagined it, the voice came again.

He’s coming, baby. You get yourself gone. Get yourself gone.

It was coming from the woods, just beyond where I could see through the foliage. The voice was almost normal, almost a fearful warning. But not quite. No living throat made that sad cry. These were ghosts I knew and loved.

I took a last look at Malachi, dribbling blood and saliva into the grass. He wouldn’t be coming after me, not anytime soon. And I had his gun. The weight of the weapon pressed between my belt and my skin made me feel more secure, as though I could defend myself against the dead, or against those who had the power to raise them. I crouched down, tied my shoes tight, and stomped through the grass and mud, and between the tall old trunks. In a matter of seconds, I’d lost sight of the car behind me.

Get yourself gone, girl.

“Mae, where are you?”