Heartsong (Green Creek 3)

I didn’t want to.

I wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Find Ezra.

Get in the car and leave this place behind.

Forget we ever came here.

I took a step toward the open door as a dull light switched on somewhere inside.

It wasn’t too late.

Just turn around.

Turn around.

I reached the door.

Looked inside.

The silo was mostly empty. A battery-powered lantern sat on an old crate off to one side, barely casting enough light to illuminate the silo floor.

Malik stood in the middle of the silo. A dusty old tarp lay off to one side.

At his feet was a wooden hatch.

And from between the slats came thin fingers reaching up with tiny claws at the tips.

The silo creaked around us.

“What have you done?” I asked quietly.

“The only thing we could,” Malik said. “To keep him safe. There are things at play that you can’t possibly begin to understand. This is your first lesson about the great wide world outside the walls of your compound.”

He bent over and lifted the wooden hatch. The hinges were rusty, and they screeched as it opened.

At first there was nothing.

I didn’t move.

“I can smell him,” the child said from the hole in the floor. “I can smell him.”

“Good. What do you smell?”

There was a hissing growl in response. “It’s dirty. Unclean.”

“Look underneath. Find it.”

“I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

I took a step back.

A boy burst from the darkness. He moved almost quicker than I could follow. He was thin but clean, and half-shifted, hair sprouting along his brow as his face elongated in a furious snarl. He landed against the side of the silo, the claws from his hands and feet piercing the metal, holding him in place. He turned his head toward me and roared.

And then came the unimaginable.

Light filled his eyes.