Retinue of Lost Ones

Chapter 11

Shane awoke to cold fingers poking the back of his neck. They were bony, icy, dead. His eyes shot open. Lana stood in front of him, the hole in her chest busily sucking air.

"What?" he growled grumpily. "It's the middle of the night. I told you all not to touch me when I'm sleeping, okay? You're cold, you're all cold."

Lana stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her arms.

As he rolled back over, Shane heard the telltale buzz-buzz-buzz of his silenced phone as it vibrated on his desk, charging. Grunting, he flipped onto his back and snagged the device, powering up the screen. Two missed calls and four text messages from an unknown number.

He sent the call to voicemail (which he'd never set up) and flipped through the texts.

need to talk

Call me.

Plz answer

Come on Shane this is important.

His first thought was of Sierra, his fellow deadwitch, but her number was programmed into his phone, so it would have shown up on caller ID.

who is this? He replied, thumbs dancing over the electronic keyboard.

Michael came the reply.

Michael? They'd stopped being friends so long ago Shane didn't have his number anymore. Hadn't known it since before everyone got rid of their landline phones.

how did u get my number

Asked your mom at work we need to talk can you meet up

Shane glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. That would mean sneaking out.

talk about what? He texted

face 2 face

Shane heaved a sigh and stared at the crumbly white ceiling for guidance. Mrs. Henderson materialized across from him and waggled her finger disapprovingly.

k, where he sent.

quarry, by the treehouse

"Are you going to murder me or something?" he muttered aloud. The old quarry on the edge of Franken was edged by thick, twisted woods where kids played against their parents' wishes. When Michael was still his best friend, they'd tried building a treehouse in a small clearing, but only made it as far as nailing up a few boards. Still, it had been their favorite place to play.

Shane got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and a hoodie. Tying his sneakers, he turned to Jimmy. "I need your help," he whispered.

Jimmy grinned, dripping ghostly water from his lips. He passed through the wall of the trailer and popped the loose screen free. Jimmy tossed it triumphantly on the grass. He always enjoyed it whenever Shane asked him to do something shady.

Wincing with every little sound, Shane wiggled out his window feet first and lowered himself to the ground. As quietly as he could, he opened up the Subaru and put it in neutral. Silently, he commanded his... retinue, yeah, that's what Sierra called it, to help him push the car out of its parking place and back down the gravel drive toward the road. The night was cool and smelled of fire, the quiet oppressive. Steering through the open door, Shane eventually positioned the car on the road about twenty yards from his driveway. Only then did he feel safe starting the engine.

A few minutes later, he parked on the uneven gravel shoulder next to the small picnic area the city had installed to make the old quarry a little more scenic, pulling in behind Michael's Bronco. Pulling out his phone, he flipped on the flashlight and picked his way through the grass and into the woods, searching for the forgotten paths of their childhood. It was still dead quiet, with only the sounds of the leaves crunching under his feet.