The jingle of keys in the lock makes me stiffen, bracing myself. The door creaks open and footsteps thud down the hallway, pausing at the entrance to the den. The crash of bottles makes me jump, and I can see Caleb backing away from the den. He’s dropped the case of beer he’d been holding and his face is white, his mouth hanging open. At last he finds his voice, letting out a string of curse words he runs into the kitchen and skids to a stop, his shoes squeaking on the tile. When he sees the wreckage of the door he swears again, moving forward to touch the cracked doorframe with one shaking hand, “Holy shit,” he moans. "She’s gone.” He paces back and forth for a second, not looking up once. Clearly he thinks that wherever Nakia’s gone, that I’ve gone with her. He’s not worried that I might still be here, watching him.

            “Shit.” Caleb is yanking on his blonde curls, his mouth is pressed into a thin line. He looks like he’s trying to work himself up to do something. He stomps over to the kitchen counter and yanks one of the drawers open. I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull out a huge shiny butchers knife, but instead he stands up straight, holding a plastic flashlight in his hand. My breath comes out in a rush, but the relief is short lived. He reaches into the drawer again and shoves aside odd bits of crap and crumpled paper. When he finds what he’s looking for he shuts the drawer violently, a look of grim determination is on his face. In his right hand is a black handgun.

            I gape at it, at how easily he holds it in his hand. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world to him. Is that it? The gun he shot me with? The shock wears off quickly when I see him look around, looking for her. Looking for a clue to where she might be. His brows are furrowed in concentration, he’s thinking. He knows she was weak from shock and blood loss, he knows she can’t have gone far. Maybe he’s wondering if she’s hiding in the house. An idea strikes me. I’ll go into the living room and make little tapping, shuffling noises. If he’s busy looking for her in here, he won’t guess where she really is until she’s safely at my parent’s house. Maybe I can even work up a convincing moan of pain and he’ll really go crazy and tear the living room apart. I’ll buy her time.

            I’m turning for the living room when I notice that he’s stopped, standing perfectly still. He’s staring at the back door. My heart sinks as I see that the doors been left open a crack, just the tiniest crack. She mustn’t have had the strength to close it. Damn him for noticing!

Caleb moves forward eagerly, brandishing the gun like he expects her to be on the porch waiting for him.

“Crap!” I follow him outside. He stands on the porch for a second, his eyes sweeping the yard. The sun has nearly set behind the trees, and he clicks the flashlight on and plays the beam erratically over the back yard. It’s obvious nothing is there.

“Bitch is in the woods,” he grunts, and bolts down the back staircase, running for the woods as fast as he can, the beam of light bobbing in front of him.

I’m about to go after him, and then I see a second light flicker through the forest, on the opposite end. Confused, I stop in time to see a tall figure emerge from the woods. I know it’s not Caleb, because I can still see the tiny flicker of his flashlight in the dark forest moving away from me. The shadowy figure approaches the house, moving slowly and carefully. Finally he steps close enough to peer over the fence into the back yard, and the pale light shining through the kitchen window washes over his face.

It’s my father.

The sliding glass door is still open, and I lean out and shout at him, “No! Don’t come here, go back into the woods. Go get Caleb!”

My heart sinks when he continues to stare blankly at the house. I look down at my hands again, frustrated with myself. Why isn’t it working anymore? I watch as Dad stalks over the lawn, trying to peer into the windows. He shuts off his flashlight and steps onto the deck, lifting each foot carefully, totally silent as he paces foreword. I back up when he leans into the door, his face inches from mine. He looks puzzled.

I don’t want to get angry, I don’t want that feeling anymore, but it’s incredibly frustrating that he can’t see me. “Dad!” I holler at the top of my lungs. “hey!”

He mutters to himself, “What the hell…”

I turn to see what he’s looking at. Oh yeah, the door I blew off the hinges. Dad goes up to examine it poking the splintered remains with the end of his flashlight. I bounce from foot to foot. I have to help Nakia somehow, how can I communicate with him?

The muffled roar of an engine gets my attention, and my heart starts beating rapidly. That can’t be Larry coming back can it? Dad doesn’t seem to hear it, he’s too concentrated on the ruined door.

Voices at the door, low murmurs. Dad looks up just as someone calls,

“The door is open, we’re coming in. This is the police.”

Two police offers walk into the hallway, boots clomping on the hardwood. It’s Holt and Love, and they both have their guns out.

In the kitchen dad turns toward them. “Hello?”

“Keep your hands where we can see ‘em,” Holt says firmly.

The police step into the kitchen. Dad stands in the middle of the tiles still staring at the door. He looks excited.

“Look at the door..” he says. “The door…”

“Sir,” Holt says, voice low and soothing. “Put down the weapon.”

Weapon? Dad looks just as confused.

“The flashlight, sir,” Love says stiffly. “Put it down, please.” For the first time he glances at the broken door, and his face hardens. “What did you do, Mr. Morgan?”

Dad stammers in disbelief. Frustration slams through me. I like Holt, but he’s being an idiot right now. Right now as they’re having this comical little mix up Nakia is being chased through the dark woods.

Holt peers down the stair case and when she pulls back her gun is pointed at my dad’s head. “There’s blood down there, a lot of it.”

Dad looks petrified, and my stomach drops. He’s obviously thinking it’s mine, even though it’s not logical if you think about it. Still, the officers both look grim, probably taking his horror for an admission of guilt.

“Thought you’d come and serve up some vigilante justice?” Holt’s voice is steely.

How can I send the message “go outside” to them? I look around frantically, trying to find something, anything. An idea of some sort. A trail of red droplets catches my eye, blood drops. They’re tiny, but visible. They start just at the base of the sliding door, where Nakia must have paused for a moment. I concentrate on Love, on the lines of his face, the five o’clock shadow and tired eyes. My case has been eating at him. He cares.

“Love,” my voice shakes. “Listen to me, I’m talking to you. To you…please hear me. I know you want to know what happened to me. You want to solve this thing. Come on, Love.”

I focus my thoughts on him like a laser beam. Willing him to hear me, pleading with him. Then I slam my hand onto the pane of the sliding glass door. My palm makes contact with a loud thud.

Holt and Love both swing their guns around to point at me, though neither of them sees me. They looked confused, then they look at Dad, who shrugs.

Holt says, “Keep your gun on him,” and she walks slowly over to the door, gun held out in front of her. She edges up sideways and ducks her head out quickly, pulls back inside and looks puzzled. “There’s no one there.”

“Look down.” I try to focus on her the same way, but her face is closed. She isn’t receptive like he is. “Look down. Down.”

Suddenly Dad says, “Blood!” and Love glares at him before he sees where my dad is looking. “What’s that?”

Dad’s voice is desperate. “Look, I didn’t do any of this, you have to believe me. I mean, yes, I broke in. Or really, walked in. I wanted answers from him. I wasn’t going to do anything to him. Well…” here he looks sheepish. “Maybe rough him up a little. But I didn’t do anything! He wasn’t here when I got here, but all this…the door and the blood was here. Look down, by the sliding glass door there.”

I wish I could give him a hug, I feel like crying with relief when Holt hunkers down and looks more closely at the blood drops. “They go out onto the deck.”

“Let’s go.” Love gestures for Dad to walk forward, and they troop out onto the deck one at a time. I follow, holding my breath. They stand silently, shoulder to shoulder looking out into the dark forest. At first there’s nothing, and my heart starts to sink, and then there’s a faint flicker of a flashlight beam.

“He’s in the woods,” Love says, and the tired look vanishes from his face. He looks triumphant and charged with energy. “He’s running.” He whirls on my dad. “Give me that flashlight.”

Love snatches the mag light and bolts off the deck, taking the stairs two at a time. Holt growls something after him, but she follows, yelling at dad to stay here. My father ignores them, his legs are a blur as he shoots across the lawn after them, vanishing into the darkness. I almost sag to the ground in relief, before realizing that however fast the police might be, Caleb still has a good head start on them. And I’ll be able to get there faster than they will.

I swear under my breath and follow them into the dark woods. I pass them in seconds as they blunder in the dark. I come darting around the next clump of trees and catch sight of a dark shape crashing through the woods. Caleb is clumsy, and he continually trips over upraised roots and nearly runs into low-hanging tree branches, but he’s till going too fast. I remember Nakia’s shambling gate and it makes my stomach sick. He’s going to catch her. If I don’t do something, he’ll catch her and he’ll shoot her. Caleb shoves past a tree branch and it snaps back, sweeping through me. I’m not solid anymore, I don’t have enough anger anymore. When I try to collect it like I did before it doesn’t work. I’m too panicked, too scared for Nakia. My mind races frantically as I trail after Caleb. His search is bringing him nearer to the river. The river. My heart lurches, and a longing to call for Sam washes through me, but then I hear the crack of a tree branch on the path ahead of us, and Caleb stops pummeling his way through the bush. He holds his breath and listens. Another snap from up ahead. Caleb and I are both frozen, we’re both thinking the same thing, and Caleb mutters, “There she is,” and resumes his mad dash through the bushes. Way behind us I can hear the mumbled voices of the police and my dad thrashing through the woods. They’re too far behind to make a difference.

“Bree?”  The deep voice makes me whip around in dismay. Sam is standing by the river bank, his face made silver by the half moon that hangs above us. It’s horrifying to see how much he’s faded. I can actually see parts of the river through him. My heart drops.

 “Sam,” My voice is choked. “Oh Sam…”

“I’m almost gone,” he says, and even his voice is faint.

Another crash from up ahead, and I hear Nakia cry out in pain. She’s fallen, maybe tripped over a tree branch or a root on the path. I turn towards the sound, but Caleb is still within my sight. He hasn’t reached her yet, but he’s headed that way, fast.

“Sam.” It feels like I’m being torn in half. It isn’t fair. “Nakia..”

Sam just stares at me mournfully, and then Caleb’s voice rings through the cold night air, “Come here, bitch!” and I have no choice. I turn and charge after him. Eventually I see them. Caleb has Nakia pinned in the beam of his flashlight. Nakia looks terrified and exhausted. The blood on her shirt is dry, but her blonde hair looks darkly wet in the yellow light. Her head is still bleeding. It’s a wonder she hasn’t passed out.

 “I hate to do this.” Caleb raises the gun, and I charge at him – ramming speed – straight into his back. We collide, hitting the ground with twin grunts of pain. Caleb shouts and rolls over, thrashing, trying to get me off his back. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair as Nakia turns and runs. I want to shout after her, tell her to run as fast as she can, but my teeth grind together with the effort of holding onto the writhing figure beneath me. At last he knocks me off, and - still tangible - my back hits a tree, sending shooting pain up my spine. I gasp, trying to suck air back into my lungs.

He growls, “Not immune to regular pain, are you? Ghost bitch!” he stands up, and instead of charging me he leans down and scoops up his gun, turning to pursue Nakia.

Groaning, I scrape myself off the ground. Sam is regarding me sadly from the river. When he speaks it’s like the quiet howl of a far away wind, “You’re so dark now, Bree. I don’t even know if you can come with me now.”

Tears sting my eyes. I turn away from him and run deeper into the forest. I have to save my friend.