"Where are you going?"

Agnes ignored the pitiful girl's calls and stormed her way down the front steps of School. Pulling at the sleeves of her sweater so they covered her hands, she walked briskly down the street with only one destination in mind: the end.

Yvonna was steps behind her, trying her best not to trip in her flimsy sandals. The sun was nearly past the horizon line, making it harder to see the concrete stairs in front of her. Hugo was right on her tail, scrambling not to get left behind. Margot—the sweetheart—tried to step on his untied shoelaces as she skipped behind them all.

"Agnes, wait!" Yvonne hit the pavement and rushed after the young girl, who had very long strides for a child. By the time she finally caught up to Agnes, she was winded. "Where in Eldritch are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere in Eldritch," Agnes replied shortly, not sparing the other girl a glance. "You heard that freak. I'm headed to the edge."

Wherever that is, but she kept that last part to herself. She didn't know of anyone who bothered to think about the outskirts of town, much less actively sought them out. No one left Eldritch. It had never happened in the town's history.

"That trailer is a myth," Yvonne insisted. "And those directions are pretty nondescript if you ask me. Have you any clue where you're walking?"

"What does that matter? I'll find it eventually."

"Yes, but have you thought of the scenario where you go missing too?"

At that, Agnes slowed her pace. It had briefly crossed her mind as the shadows around them elongated, the threat of night falling fast over Eldritch. It had been her practice over the last weeks to head home before dark, but this was the first bit of information that felt helpful—productive. She couldn't imagine trying to calmly play house tonight.

And she was in no rush to deal with her parents, either.

"Please, stop a moment and think. If Bogart was taken, it's very likely you could meet the same fate." Yvonne wasn't sure why she was bothering with this. Already, she was going back on the promise she made to herself: keeping Hugo her only focus. But for whatever reason, her instincts were telling her she was meant to stick with this standoffish, brute of a girl—no matter how hard Agnes tried to push Yvonne away.

Somehow, the pitiful girl knew they were connected.

Margot was simply around for the entertainment. She skipped up to the two girls. "Agnes doesn't know how to think on account of she spends all day inside School. Full of lies, that place. That's what the cool kids on the blacktop say."

The presence of the shadow girl got Agnes moving again. Annoyed, Yvonne shoved Margot out of the way to follow, hooking her arm through Hugo's so he kept away from the dreadful girl. Margot resumed her skipping.

"Listen, you can't trust every word Nickels says," Yvonne tried again. "Most of it is lies just to mess with simple minds, and the rest are fables he himself believes are true. You'll be walking to the town limits for nothing!"

"I've been putting up flyers for nothing then too, with that logic," Agnes said crossly, picking up her speed. "At least this offers the meer chance of a different outcome."

Yvonne didn't know what to say to that. Throwing her arms up in defeat, she fell back to make walking easier for Hugo. Her brother was tired; she could tell by the glaze smothered thick over his eyes, his mouth slack with unfocus. She didn't know it, but the voices in his head were lulling him into complacence for reasons we may never know. But for the first time all day, the boy was relaxed. With a heavy sigh, Yvonne reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the bag of the Good Stuff.

"I wanna see, I wanna see!" Margot nearly toppled Yvonne over as she threw all her weight onto the pitiful girl's shoulder. "What's all the fuss about the Good Stuff, anyway?"

Yvonne shook the shadow girl off like the bug she was. "Get away from me, pest. I need to help my brother. This has gone on long enough."

"Well, he seems much better than before," Margot commented, scrutinizing the ugly boy's half-awake state. "He's able to walk still, and that awful screaming has stopped. Mayhaps his life is worth saving after all!"

Yvonne took a page out of Agnes's book and ignored her. Stumbling along the dirty streets of Eldritch, she carefully unwrapped the parcel in her hands. The Good Stuff's sickly sweet aroma wafted from within the parchment paper, intriguing Margot even more than before.

"What is that?" she questioned, her eyes the size of a raven's eggs. The scent was intoxicating, and her mouth was practically watering by the time Yvonne finished unwrapping the contents. Margot was surprised to find it was, "Food?"

Again, Yvonne paid the shadow girl no mind. Fetching a napkin from her pocket, she delicately picked up the yellow morsel, its juices squelching down her fingers. Having sold the Good Stuff for the last few weeks, she was privy to the perfect amount and need not second guess herself. Breaking off a piece, she held the Good Stuff up to her brother's lips.

"Here, sweet boy," she cooed, ushering it into his mouth as quickly as possible. No sooner had it left her hands that she wiped away any remnants, not wanting the Good Stuff to linger on her skin. Slowly, Hugo chewed.

Agnes, still keeping her lead ahead of the group, only pretended not to listen. Truthfully, her ears were glued to the conversation behind her, listening for any information she could file away for later. She was still cross with Yvonne for using her brother's circumstances as bait, regardless of her intentions. But that didn't mean Agnes was stupid enough to let a chance to eavesdrop go to waste.

"He looks the same," Margot pouted. "Just as ugly and stupid as before. Your magic food doesn't work."

"Hush, you horrid child," Yvonne spat, ushering Hugo to walk a bit faster. "It hasn't hit his stomach yet. The Good Stuff takes time."

"Sounds like a load of bird crap to me," Margot sang, skipping to a beat only she could hear in her head."Tell her, Agnes, tell her it's all the poo of a raven!"

"Crow," Agnes couldn't help but bite back. The shadow girl got under her skin like no other. But since she had broken her oath of silence, it didn't hurt to pry for more specific intel. Stuff that would actually help her. So, she reluctantly slowed her steps, then turned to the pitiful girl Yvonne. "How did you know the Good Stuff would help his thoughts?"

Startled by her sudden appearance, Yvonne stepped back, affronted. "Oh, now I'm worth talking to?"

"You used my brother as a bargaining chip," Agnes retaliated, but she kept her eyes on her feet as they crossed a deserted intersection. Above them, the traffic lights flashed yellow as always.

"A chip that sent us on this journey to begin with. A chip that got us the next clue in finding where Bogart is." Yvonne was done rolling over for this red-haired bully, and she squared her shoulders as she pulled ahead. "I didn't use his name, or even his relation to you. Admit it, you're mad for no reason other than spite."

Agnes, never one to admit anything, deflected. "Nickels said the Good Stuff was a way for kids to have fun, but that's not how you describe it with Hugo. Who told you to give it to him?"

"No one," Yvonne answered brusquely, checking over her shoulder for her brother. Already his steps had more purpose behind them, and the clouds in his eyes were beginning to clear, leaving the black sharper than before. "I was desperate. His illness reminded me of my parents, and I thought perhaps he was meant to have the Good Stuff too. Like them."

Agnes scoffed. "Quite a risk to take on your sickly little brother, don't you think?"

Rather than flaring up, Yvonne's shoulder sagged in defeat. "When risks are all that's left, you take what you're given. What was it you said about the chance of a different outcome?"

Eating her own words, Agnes swallowed any retort and fell silent. Had she herself not taken risks while tracking down Bogart? This journey alone was enough to make most laugh in absurdity—walking through town during dusk? Not on many kids' to-do list in Eldritch.

And for good reason. As our mediocre protagonists made their way down the darkening street that ran straight through the heart of town, the air around them shifted. Like a sixth sense, all four children knew elders were meandering in alleyways, waiting for unsuspecting younglings out and about.

Most skulked by and paid the group no mind, their eyes wandering without a destination. These were the ones not lucky enough to receive children, and so they spent their nights ambling around, searching for a purpose. From across the street skulked a mid-aged lady with bright purple curlers wound tight into her hair. Approaching the group from a diagonal, her path appeared uncertain until she was steps in front of Agnes, her eyes staring over the young girl's head.

"Children must seldom be seen, but never once heard," she whispered, her claw-like nails digging harshly into Agnes's shoulder. With a swift jerk, Agnes wrenched the woman off, then tripped her onto the sidewalk with a satisfying crack!

"Ha ha, right on her face!" Margot cheered, leaping over the sprawled out adult whose wails bubbled up through the blood spewing from her nose. "Go on then, do another! Make it an old man this time."

Agnes ignored her.

"Is chasing a silly old myth worth all of this?" Yvonne hissed, eying a suspicious character slumped against the brick exterior of the upcoming deli shop. The OPEN sign flickered, casting vibrant shadows over the stranger's hunched frame.

"You keep saying that. A myth," Agnes repeated. The word tasted acrid on her tongue. "Am I right in assuming you know it?"

Yvonne rolled her eyes. "I've heard it in passing while working, but that's not the point! A myth is untrue, some adult fallacy that made its way onto the blacktop. Nothing meant to be taken seriously."

"Humor me," Agnes goaded, tightening the strap on her satchel as they passed the man on the wall. Through the material, her hammer nudged at her hip, ever tempting. "What is the myth?"

Yvonne avoided answering right away by glancing at Hugo once more. She didn't like exposing the boy to make-believe in his confused states—it only proved to make them worse. She wouldn't entertain the thought of telling Agnes if any sign of his illness still lingered.

But the face staring back at her was absent of any pain or agony. Instead, Hugo gave her a soft smile. "Hi, Evie."

Choking back any emotion, Yvonne smiled back. "Hi, sweet boy."

Margot, who was currently stepping on the ugly boy's heels, gaped openly. "He knows your name! What other tricks have you taught him?"

The moment spoiled, Yvonne gave Margot a bird of her own, then reluctantly faced Agnes. Her brother was okay, leaving room to discuss unpleasantries. She had never been a fan of storytelling.

"Like Nickels said, it's about a trailer stationed on the outskirts of Eldritch," Yvonne began, scanning the concession of low rise buildings littered up the road for any oncoming adults. "There's some part about a claw coming down from the sky, but I forget how it relates. As I said, adult nonsense."

They crossed into the residential sector of town just as the sun fully set. Here, the children lowered their guards; not many stray adults ventured this far from the hub of downtown. Parents were kept here, housed away from any violent influence. Here, children had nothing to fear—mostly, anyway.

"Perhaps keep the focus on the trailer, then," Agnes interrupted, fully aware she was being patronizing.

Exhausted from the day, Yvonne didn't take the bait and merely continued at her own pace. "There are many differing rumors about where the Good Stuff comes from, but this is the one most universally believed. The myth states that a ruling adult—a king I guess, if you had to put a name to it—lives in the trailer and delivers the Good Stuff as a blessing for them alone. No child is ever meant to possess it, much less consume it. According to the myth, it's deadly."

"And this is what you decided to test on Hugo?"

"After witnessing others under its effects," Yvonne interjected, defensive. "Plus I myself tried a dose. Hugo is my responsibility. I wouldn't give him something I hadn't tested first."

"So? What was it like?" This, Agnes was genuinely curious about. She herself had never been tempted to try the guck, but she wasn't going to miss the chance to hear about the experience firsthand.

"It is...odd." Yvonne spent her time picking out nice words that would express the Good Stuff accurately. "I can see the appeal of it as there is a feeling of elation. Its taste is unlike anything else in Eldritch. Like bitterness is to beets, but sweet."

"Sweet?" Agnes wrinkled her nose. It wasn't often she came across that word. "Like the sweetness of milk?"

Yvonne shook her head, blocking out the buzzing of the electrical wires hanging low over their heads to concentrate. "Stronger than that. Brighter than that. Like a fig, but even better. I truly cannot describe the taste besides to say it is amazing."

Agnes eyed the bag in the pitiful girl's hand with more intrigue. The Good Stuff sounded too good to be true, the complete opposite of the vile medicine Agnes regarded it as previously.

Which prompted her to ask, "What's the catch? There has to be a reason every kid in Eldritch doesn't eat it."

Yvonne took a poignant pause. "There's this... loss of control, almost. It was as if I could not sit still. My thoughts were bouncing around and I could barely tell what was up or down. It isn't as Hugo describes his illness—more like the world is moving much too fast and all at once. Then, I couldn't leave my bed for days. Oh, how my head pounded."

"I couldn't help her," Hugo rasped, his previously high pitched-squeal subdued to a muted tone. "It made me sad to see Evie sad."

Agnes, still adjusting to this well-adjusted Hugo, directed her next question to him. "Then why would you agree to take it?"

He only shrugged. "Evie said it was okay."

"Because it was okay. I was okay," Yvonne added, squinting to see the road in front of them. The houses were dwindling the farther they walked, meaning fewer street lights. "The Good Stuff didn't hurt me, and the bad effects were tolerable. Uncomfortable, yes, but tolerable. I gave him less than I took myself and prayed for the best. This was not a decision I took lightly. In the end, we were simply lucky it was not only safe, but a cure."

The ugly boy Hugo stayed notably silent at this. Of course, the rest failed to recognize this as a sign of something more, but Hugo was not eager to admit that the Good Stuff was in fact not a cure. No cure existed for the voices in his head, but the medicine did succeed in muting them to a level that was—tolerable.

We'll never leave you, they whispered from miles away. Never, never.

But Yvonne didn't need to know that; to her, he was cured.

"And so I joined Nickels's network of sellers," Yvonne continued just as they all came to stop on the curb of the sidewalk. "Both for better access to the Good Stuff, and also to gather any information that could help Hugo, something more permanent. His time without the Good Stuff gets worse the longer he takes it. It is not something I want him to take for the rest of his youth. He has all of adulthood for that."

"What does '1, 0, 0, 0' mean?"

Yvonne and Agnes both started at the sound of Margot's voice; the girl had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last ten blocks. Young Agnes recovered quickly and snapped at her first. "What nonsense question are you asking now?"

"It can't be nonsense if it's on a sign!" Margot said hotly, pointing a finger at a spot across the street from the group. "See, right there, just under the letters, it says it right in red!"

Beaten down by pure exhaustion, both girls looked. Though Agnes was mostly expecting a prank, she was genuinely surprised by the sign towering high above the electricity lines. The billboard was backlit with three small lights, making the writing legible in the otherwise pitch darkness. It was how Margot had been able to stare at it for the last ten blocks, trying to work out what in Eldritch it meant.

The letters Margot mentioned—the ones she herself couldn't read—were actually a message. Who for? Who's to say. But nevertheless, there it stood at twelve feet tall, reading:

THE TOWN OF ELDRITCH

POPULATION:

ALWAYS HAS

AND ALWAYS WILL BE

1 0 0 0

"It is one of the numbers. The special number. One thousand," Agnes answered sincerely, surprising all of them, most of all Margot. Then, she continued. "It is why I have not beaten your skull in yet today."

"Well you might as well beat in your own, since there's clearly no brain in there," Margot mocked back. "You believed in make-believe and look! No trailer."

The shadow girl was right again. Beyond the sign, nothing was visible but a black abyss. A cold chill rolled in from the outskirts, slicing through the children's clothes and making them shiver. A silent understanding went around the group; none of them would be venturing over the edge of Eldritch. Not tonight, anyway.

"There is more to the myth. Other details that might be useful," Yvonne said finally, turning to Agnes. "We're both more likely to be successful if we work together."

"What else are you trying to accomplish? Hugo has the Good Stuff—problem solved. Besides, I thought you didn't believe in the myth."

"I don't," the pitiful girl gritted out, trying her best to stay pleasant. She knew Agnes wouldn't be keen on her idea, but she had to try. "The trailer might not be the lead you think it is, but I also don't think Nickels's information is all bad, either. Bogart, the Good Stuff, Hugo's illness—what if there's a chance they're all related?"

It was very close to what Agnes herself had thought only hours ago. Annoyed that Yvonne came to the same conclusion, she crossed her arms. "So what are you proposing?"

"We meet here tomorrow, under the sign." Yvonne made sure to be specific so they could both find the same spot again. "Then we'll walk around the edge and see if it leads to any clues. A trailer outside Eldritch is a bunch of adult nonsense, but an abandoned building on the edge of town? That might be a new place to look."

Agnes had to admit, the plan wasn't awful. It was true she hadn't ventured this far out before tonight, and with the help of first light, the chances of finding something promising would be heightened.

And yes—part of her was still holding out for a trailer.

"Fine," she begrudgingly agreed. "You and me. Tomorrow at first light."

Yvonne nodded. "Agreed."

"Me too."

The pitiful girl spun sharply around to her brother. "No, Hugo—"

"My thoughts are quiet," the ugly boy cut in. "My mind is clear enough. If it means fixing my sickness, then I wanna help."

Yvonne flushed red with discomfort. She wanted her brother nowhere near anything that could prove dangerous, but all she said was, "We'll speak of it at home."

Home. The word sent a stab of jitters through Agnes as she thought of returning there herself. Her parents were waiting, ever dependent on her return. Only hers, now that Bogart was gone. "I have to go."

Yvonne nodded, taking her brother's hand. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Hugo repeated.

"Tomorrow!" Margot cheered, slinging her arms around Yvonne and Agnes's necks.

"Funny," Agnes muttered, shaking the shadow girl off and stalking away from the group. "I don't remember any talk of inviting her."

Yvonne grabbed Hugo and marched off too, leaving Margot waving behind them. "There wasn't any."