Robby grabbed the back of his father’s jacket, and Paulie grabbed a handful of Robby’s. They formed a train and slogged up the hill towards the house. Their feet fell in rhythm. Robby pushed back his hood and looked to the side as they marched. He could make out the outline of their neighbors’ house.
They followed the picket fence of Mrs. Lane’s yard. Only the tops of pickets still poked through the snow drifts. Robby watched this house closely when he passed. He hated this house. It expanded through the years, long before Robby’s time. It started out as a just a summer cottage, and you could still its humble roots in the structure. A big belt of a beam wrapped around the middle where the first floor roof had been raised to two stories, and then two-and-a-half. On each side of the roof, dormers poked out, looking like angry devil horns.
The cottage belonged to the Lanes and had since settlers moved to the island. In fact, Robby’s road used to be called the “Lane Cottage Road,” but constant postal errors shortened to “Cottage Lane.” The Lanes never appeared on the island after Labor Day, but Robby watched the house carefully anyway. Its big black front door, surrounded by windows, looked hungry.
The roofline of Lane Cottage cut a black shape out of the gray sky. As Robby watched, a giant black form rose from one of dormers and floated across the peak of the roof and settled on the other dormer. Robby stumbled and fell into his dad’s legs. Paulie, still gripping Robby’s coat, came down on top of the boy.
“Straighten up back there,” Sam said. He turned and hauled on Robby’s arm, pulling him to his feet. Paulie pushed himself up and brushed the snow from his jacket.
“Dad, look,” Robby said. He pointed to the dormer of the cottage. He looked as he pointed and saw what his father saw—nothing but the dormer.
“What was it?" Sam asked. Paulie leaned in close to hear too.
“I saw a big black thing up there,” Robby said. “But it’s so dark, I guess it could have been nothing.”
“Move fast,” Sam said. He took Robby’s right hand and moved with determination. Paulie grabbed onto Robby’s hood and they trudged double-time. Robby’s only choice was to keep up. He felt like if he lagged, his father would pull his arm out of its socket. Sam drove his legs up and down, pumping at a furious pace.
Paulie tugged on Robby’s hood, pulling the zipper into the boy’s throat. Robby reached up with his free hand and tried to pull the jacket forward to release the pressure, but Paulie was pulling too hard. He tried to look around to see what was wrong, but suddenly the zipper was being pulled up into the underside of his chin, making Robby gag.
He sucked in a ragged breath through his compressed windpipe. He squeezed his dad’s hand, afraid to let go, and flailed with his free hand at his dad’s back.
Robby’s feet lifted off the ground as Paulie’s tug on his hood lifted him off the ground. He tried to yell, but he couldn’t get enough breath to make a sound. Robby’s eyes bugged out, and the world started to fade out as the pressure built up in his head. He was now pulling his dad’s arm upward, but his dad still trudged forward, intent on getting home.
Robby’s grip on his dad’s hand started to fail. He felt his glove starting to pull from his hand. Robby now dangled almost a foot off the ground, pulled up by the zipper and under his armpits. With the last of his grip on his fathers hand, he yanked upward.
Sam turned and immediately leapt for Robby. He nearly climbed his son, pulling the boy’s arm, and then pushing down on Robby’s shoulder to get to Paulie’s hand. He managed to grab Paulie’s glove, but it came off in Sam’s hand and he collapsed to the ground next to Robby.
Sam didn’t waste any time to figure out Robby’s condition. He looped his arm under Robby’s shoulder and jumped to his feet. He drove his feet through the snow, sprinting across the street towards their house. At first Robby just flopped alongside his dad, still struggling for breath. He pawed at the zipper with the hand that still had a glove hanging half-off. When it gave way it tore a chunk of skin from Robby’s neck. It burned, but the relief of a deep breath more than made up for cut. He got his feet to the ground and ran alongside his dad as they found the driveway. Sam ducked and ran the last twenty yards in a low crouch. Robby ducked too, but couldn’t see what they were ducking from.
THE ONLY FINISHED room in their basement was the laundry room. Haddie Norton put her boys down there on an inflatable bed. Robby stayed upstairs in the kitchen with the adults. Sam closed all the blinds and even moved the rocking chair so they could close the door to the living room. The lantern burned so low that a candle would have given off more light.
When Sam and Robby had burst through the back door, Sam immediately called out orders. Sarah and Haddie didn’t raise any questions—they heard the urgency in his voice. After securing the house the best they could, they wanted to know the details. Sam insisted Robby join the conversation, even though Sarah pushed for him to go downstairs with the other boys.
They sat at the small kitchen table.
Sam took a deep breath and lowered his shoulders. “Paulie’s gone,” he said.
“Where?" Sarah asked.
Sam raised his eyebrows. A look of surprise dawned on her face, but Sam repeated anyway—“He’s gone.”
“Oh no,” Haddie said. Everyone knew Haddie loved tragedies, and especially seemed to enjoy the misfortune of others, but she made a good show of looking shocked and saddened.
“What happened, Sam?" Sarah asked. She touched her husband’s hand.
“I can’t say for sure,” Sam said. “It’s beyond my understanding or experience. That’s the best way I can put it.”
Robby rubbed the cut on his throat. His mom slapped a bandage on it before he had his coat all the way off.
“By the time I turned around,” Sam said, “the only thing I could see of him was his hand holding on to Robby’s hood. I tried to grab his hand, but I only got the glove.”
“He didn’t make a sound,” Robby said.
“What about the rest of him?" Sarah asked.
“I couldn’t see him,” Sam said. “Just his hand. It wasn’t even very dark, or snowing very hard, I can’t explain it. It’s beyond my understanding.”
“I didn’t hear anything either,” Robby said. “Except the wind.”
“That’s true. It was completely silent,” Sam said.
“Should we go look for him?" Sarah asked.
“It’s not safe,” Sam said. “I think something was stalking us. You could feel it on the back of your neck, and Robby saw something on top of the cottage.”
“We can’t go out there,” Haddie said. “It’s not safe.”
Sarah didn’t acknowledge Haddie’s comment with even a glance. Instead, she addressed her husband again—“So what do you figure we do?”
“I think we pack up the Jeep, wait until morning, and then head for the docks,” Sam said.
“Wouldn’t it be safer to hole up here?" Sarah asked. She glanced around their kitchen, as if she’d misplaced something important.
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “For one, if there’s something here taking people, I don’t think we could hole up good enough to stave it off. Second, if this is a local problem, our best chance is to try to get away from it. Irwin Dyer’s place was empty—it’s like he just decided to wander off. I don’t know what got him, but I don’t think being inside helped protect him at all.”
“I’d just as soon get to my husband,” Haddie said. “He’ll know what to do.”
“What boat will we take?" Sarah asked.
“We’ll take Carl’s old boat,” Sam said. “He’s always said I can use it any time, and I think he’ll understand. It will take a few of us to handle that thing properly. She’s a beast. Brandon’s got some experience, doesn’t he?” Sam asked Haddie. “He can help get us launched and landed?”