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  “We’ll look into that,” Mare said.

  All the while, Mindy stood near the door, watching Sean, fear and sorrow fighting to control her face. “Was that one guy first, just standing there in the trees,” he said to her. “I thought he was trouble, so I went out to confront him, then you stumbled out. You were naked. You all were. I sent you inside to get a towel or something. Everyone else followed you.”

  He pointed east, toward the kitchen. “Everyone came from the tree farm. The cemetery’s on the other side.”

  “Where I was buried,” Mindy said, her voice soft. “What happened in the cemetery?”

  “I don’t know,” Sean said. “I tried to find out this morning, but there were too many cops. We’re gonna try again in a couple of hours.” He glanced at Mare. “Did you want to…”

  The women looked at each other and Mindy shook her head. “I… I’m not ready for that, I don’t think. To see my grave.” She shuddered. “Can I just wait here?”

  Mare approached Mindy and took her hand, voice soft and coaxing, like she used with her patients. “Of course you can. I can’t imagine how awful this must be. Let’s get you something to drink.”

  Dani watched Mare lead Mindy to the kitchen. She hefted her purse higher onto her shoulder and said to Sean, “I really appreciate you guys doing this.”

  “Doing what?” He squinted at her. “You’re not sticking around, are you?”

  “No,” the woman said, her gaze on the floor. “I can’t. My husband won’t understand.” She released a sigh and managed to look Sean in the eye. “I don’t understand this either. My sister died almost three years ago. She… She’s someone else. She has to be.”

  Before Sean could respond, Dani turned and opened the door. “Tell her…” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “tell her I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for dumping her on strangers? he thought, but did nothing to stop her. He heard her car door slam, saw the reflection of her lights as she backed out of the driveway and onto the road. When she pulled away, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked to the kitchen.

  Mare and Mindy sat at the table, each clutching a glass of pop. Mindy’s eyes were red and puffy. “Dani left, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” Sean said. “Can I talk to Mare a minute?”

  Mindy took a shaky breath and stared at her hands clenched together on the table.

  Mare stood. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, touching Mindy’s shoulder. “I promise. Everything will be all right.”

  Mindy nodded and took a deep breath before raising her head as if facing certain retribution. “Sure. Sure it will.”

  They walked to his studio and closed the door. Whispering, head close to his, Mare said, “We can’t just kick her out.”

  “We don’t know her.”

  “I kind of do. She was one of the sweetest girls in school.”

  “So you already believe they’re who they say they are?” Sean asked, running a hand over his head as he looked at the bedroom door. “Me having crazy thoughts is one thing, but you’re supposed to be the sane one.”

  Mare pursed her lips then pressed on, undaunted. “I went to school with Mindy Robean. I know her, all right? And crazy though it may be, I have no doubt the woman out there is Mindy Robean Howard. Her family’s already turned her away. That was her sister for God’s sake. Where else can she go? She doesn’t have anybody else.”

  Sean ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who found her. I seem to remember someone who tried to help these tree people.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t intend to open a homeless shelter for them. We don’t have money, and we don’t have room.”

  She nodded. “Maybe so, but we can’t just toss her out, either. It’s just…wrong.”

  “We don’t even know what she is or what she might do to us.” Sean paced. “I draw the undead, I don’t live with them.”

  Mare shrugged. “She seems perfectly alive, perfectly sane, just like I remember her but a bit more timid. Who can blame her? And the Mindy I know wouldn’t take anything, not that we have anything worth stealing.” She paused to catch his gaze. “Think of how many folks have crashed on our couch for a few days, how many charities we’ve donated to. We’ve never turned anyone away before.”

  “You’re right, babe. But how can she stay here? Where will she sleep?” He let his head roll back as he thought, How can we afford to feed her? We can barely feed ourselves. He sighed and muttered, “I guess there’s the couch.”

  “There’s a twin-sized bed in Jam’s old room,” Mare reminded him, her voice cracking.

  He winced, his heart clenching. Jam. God. “Yeah, buried behind a ton of boxes and books.”

  Mare shrugged. “So? We excavate.” She squeezed his hand. “She’s just a scared young woman with nowhere to go. We should help her. All we can offer is some shelter, so that’s what we do. At least until she figures something out.”

  We must be nuts. Or suckers, he thought, letting his breath out in a heavy sigh. “Okay. You go ahead and tell her. I’ll start hauling boxes to the basement.”

  A storm front pushed its way across the sky after eleven, obliterating the moon and crackling with flashes of lightning in the northwest. Sean pointed his flashlight at the mud ahead of his feet and led Mare across the field as he grumbled over his late-night news segment. He’d sounded like an idiot, again. But at least much of the newscast had focused on a missing kid, not the tree people. Far behind them, Peaches barked and snarled, informing the neighborhood that someone was in the trees. Or maybe she was just barking to hear herself bark. Sean had always avoided dogs and didn’t know the difference.

  He glanced back toward the house. Mindy had looked about ready to shatter when they left, not that he could blame her.

  “I think we’re going to get wetter,” Mare said, squeezing Sean’s hand. “At least it’ll break the heat for a while.”

  “And shut up the dog,” Sean muttered, hoping Peaches remained securely trapped inside the invisible fence.

  The looming rows of evergreens stood whispering in shifting wind, backlit by diffuse, untrustworthy light from far ahead. As he and Mare crept among the slippery shadows and snagging branches, they ran across more and more broken trees, as if someone had crashed against them instead of walking between. Sean squatted and took photos of a ruined row of saplings. Did the police break them during patrols? Did the tree people damage them in their confusion?

  Flashlight turned off, they reached the cemetery a few steps after the first raindrops fell. Police tape stretched across a broken section of fence, and the air stank of the same musty funk Sean had smelled in the house. Across the cemetery, more police tape marked a creek that curled around the north and eastern sides of the gentle slope before plunging to Juniper Road and the Des Moines River not far beyond. A pair of sheriff’s vehicles blocked the main entrance along the southern fence, their headlights on and shining onto the road.

  Three deputies stood by the cars, facing a tangle of wild growth trees on the steep slope west of the cemetery but south of Sean and Mare. A flashlight flickered there, partially hidden by brush, then another moved up to join the first.

  So it’s not just us, he thought. If we’re quiet, maybe we won’t be noticed. He turned to assess the rest of the cemetery. The fence lay shattered before him, but to his left it ran unbroken to the north and across, barely visible beyond the glowing tarps near the curve of the creek.

  Four rings of blue plastic tarps hung from tall frames standing in the creek’s cleft. Light shone from within three of them like giant paper lanterns. The glowing tarps and occasional lightning illuminated the cemetery enough for Sean to make out the graves; all appeared undisturbed. He took a breath and looked to the south. The fence rose up again a few feet to his right and continued on unbroken past the woods to the g
ate near the cops.

  No wonder the tree people walked into my yard, he thought. If the gates were shut, this was the only way out of the cemetery. Still is the only way out. But the cops are a few hundred feet away at most. Maybe far enough that we can get a look at what’s going on out here.

  He returned his attention to the closest glowing tarp-ring. Can we do this? Can we get in, maybe take a few pictures, and get out without being noticed? Or at least quick enough hide in the tree farm before we’re caught? A third flashlight joined the previous pair in the woods downhill, and two deputies moved to intercept them.

  Sean turned on his camera and took a breath. We can do this.

  “What’s going on out here?” Mare whispered, pointing. “Why hang all those tarps in the creek? And there, on that one grave. There’s a weird, twisty thing on the grass. See?”

  Screeewaaaawk!! “You, in the woods. Back up immediately,” someone said over a megaphone. “This is a restricted area.”

  Nervous silence, then “We have a right to know!” a girl’s voice screeched, echoing in the rain.

  “You can’t hide the truth for—“ another teenager hollered, the last of his statement lost to thunder.

  This is our chance, let’s go! Sean lifted the police tape and held it up for Mare to duck under. She hesitated then slipped past. He followed and picked his way into the cemetery. Kneeling behind the closest tall gravestone, he took a picture of the twisted mass at his feet and hoped the stone hid him and the flash.

  The flash-enhanced image glowed on the view screen. A convoluted network of whitish veins sprawled near the headstone. Were they plasma filaments? A root system? He paused to take another picture, a close-up, to better see the fluffed up, slimy texture. Then he looked around.

  Each grave had its own odd, threaded shroud.

  Mare grimaced at the image on the camera screen. “It looks like someone stretched a lumpy, veiny hunk of skin on the ground.”

  “I don’t know what it is,” Sean whispered, one hand reaching down to touch the tangled membrane. He found it warm and slick, slimy like snot, and he felt a faint pulse of fluid flowing within. “Whatever it is, it’s warmer than the ground. And it’s pulsating.” He tried to fling it off his fingers, but the gunk stuck to him. “Sticky.” He wiped his hand on his jeans and took another picture.

  “Oh my God,” Mare muttered, gaze darting around. “That’s… It’s…” She swallowed as Sean took a third picture. “I think we ought to go home,” she said at last, her voice small in the rain. “It stinks out here and what if the stuff is dangerous? A terrorist biohazard or something? We’re not even wearing gloves.”

  Just a few more, then we can go. Sean leaned forward to get another close up of the weird veiny membrane, making sure to get the gravestone in the shot. “None of the cops are wearing facemasks or protective suits, and none of the people today were sick. I’m willing to bet it’s not toxic.”

  “Always the optimist,” she muttered, crouching beside him. “So what do we do?”

  “Get a few more pics,” he said, motioning to a large gravestone close to the nearest tarp. “If nothing else, I can use these for inspiration for Ghoulie.”

  The cops and kids in the woods grew louder.

  “Yeah, Ghoulie covered with snot strands. That’d be fun. Like I don’t see enough of that at work,” Mare said, barely audible over the warning squawk of the megaphone. Sean counted to three then they bolted, bent low, slimy strings shifting beneath their feet. They reached the next large gravestone and crouched behind it. “Make it quick, okay?” Mare said, wiping rainwater from her eyes.

  “Sure.” Sean shifted to take a photograph of the smear in front of him. “Just a couple more then we can—“

  “Sean!” she gasped, pointing up the creek. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” he whispered, gaze darting around. Shit! Did a deputy spot us?

  “That!” she said, standing. “Something splashed in the water way over there. Something big.”

  He rose to look backwards over the gravestone to the cops and kids. Eight or nine damp, grimy teenagers clumped together, defiant and screaming. Two pointed up the hill, toward them, and Sean crouched again. “Mare. Get down. They’re going to see—“

  Lightning arched across the sky, bringing an immediate crack of thunder. Mare had walked toward the glowing tarps, still pointing. Past her, within the farthest, fluid splashed up to speckle the inside of the plastic.

  “Hey!” the megaphone screeched. “You! Up the hill! This is a restricted—“ The rest of the warning was lost to another peal of thunder. Sean bolted for Mare, swearing under his breath. He dragged her down to the ground as lightning crackled again.

  Sean sneezed at the choking stink of mold. Beside him, Mare covered her nose with her hand.

  “God, it stinks,” Mare said.

  Teenagers and cops yelled at each other down the hill, and one cop climbed the hill toward him and Mare. Not much time left. “I’m going to reach under the closest tarp and take a picture, then toss you the camera,” he said, getting his feet beneath him. “You stay put. I’ll run, get their attention, and once they’re chasing me, you head back home. Get those pics downloaded and put on a disk, okay? Or the cloud. Somewhere we can get them back.”

  “What? Are you nuts? You’ll get arrested!”

  “Better than both us of getting arrested and losing the pictures,” he said. Finger on the shutter button, he jumped down into the creek.

  Teeth clenched, he faced into the wind and rain, and lifted the bottom of the plastic, pointing the camera toward the water while watching the deputy approach. Lightning crackled to the west as he pushed the button. Before the image finished processing, he tossed the camera to Mare and bolted out of the creek and toward the tallest gravestones near the crest of the hill.

  “Stop!” the deputy yelled, but Sean skirted a knee-high gravestone and kept running. “You can’t escape!”

  Escape isn’t my plan, Sean thought, taking a zigzag route to the eastern bend of the creek and the splashed tarp. Someone down the hill hollered in pain as Sean leapt into the water and ripped the tarp half off its ring. Struggling to catch his balance in the mud and current, he scrambled aside before falling face-first onto a thrashing wad of white, foamy slime or knocking over the floodlight that shown down upon it. As large as a beanbag chair and releasing strings of delicate bubbles, the mass quivered and splashed about under the water’s surface like a fish caught on a line.

  The burbling slime-mass roiled, dousing Sean with water and foam as it flipped. Bits of it slid off and floated away, leaving a purple-tinted swirl in their wake. What the hell’s happening here?

  The deputy jumped down into the creek, hand on his gun, his uniform drenched and muddy. He was maybe twenty and looked terrified.

  Despite his own fear, Sean smiled at him. “Hey,” he said, gesturing at the thrashing mass as a human foot burst out, flecking them both with purple slime. “Whatcha got here?”

  “Nothing you need to see. You’re gonna come with me.”

  “Fucker maced me!” a young man’s voice screeched from the dark. “Fucking bastard asshole!” The deputy turned with a lurch toward the noise.

  A gun went off with a loud high pop that echoed through the storm. Out there, somewhere, a woman screamed.

  Be a warning shot for the kids. Let Mare be all right! Sean froze, heart slamming, while, before him, the slimy thing fizzed and fell apart, exposing an arm, a torso, the back of someone’s head. The deputy cursed and clambered out of the creek, leaving Sean alone. He crouched in the water and tried to help free the thrashing person from the muck.

  The kids continued to scream at the cops, and he heard a crash and sounds of fighting. It’s toward the gate, he told himself, as he glanced where the deputy had recently stood. Not toward Mare.

  “Filthy goddamn pigs! Y
ou’re breaking my fucking arm! Do you know who my dad is? I’ll have your fu—“ The rest was lost to the storm.

  A woman burst up beneath Sean’s hands, gasping and coughing up water, as the remaining frothy mass floated away and dissolved into a purple swirl.

  She slumped sideways and collapsed into the water, but tried again to crawl up the bank, looking up at him with fearful eyes, dark and gleaming. She dripped with purple mucus and white foam, and she slipped again as she cowered away from him. Her scream sounded like a trapped rodent. Despite his apprehension, Sean approached her and held out his hand.

  “It’s all right,” he coaxed, heart hammering. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

  How can this be happening? he thought as he examined her young face, surely no older than mid twenties. So human, so impossible. “Can you stand? Can you talk?”

  She opened her mouth and squeaked at him, and she barely resisted as he grasped her hand and drew her to her knees. The whites of her eyes shimmered lilac in the floodlight, the irises deep violet. Her skin was cold and clammy, goose pimpled, and she shivered.

  “Gonna get you out of here,” he said, drawing her toward the bank. “Get you dried off, covered up.” Her knees buckled and she collapsed in the creek again as she blinked dumbly up at him. The brilliant purples in her eyes had already faded. She smiled, but it was mindless, like a child’s doll. Whatever she was, she was no threat. It was like looking into the eyes of a newborn. “Aaah gah?”

  “Yep, ah gah. C’mon,” he said. “You can do it. On your feet, now.”

  The deputy returned and, reaching for the radio at his shoulder, barked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Helping this poor woman stand.” Sean draped one of her arms over his shoulder and got his strength beneath her. “I could use a hand here, or didn’t they teach you to help people back in Deputy Academy or whatever the hell it’s called?”

  The young deputy’s cheeks turned red. He stammered then said, “You’re under arrest for interfering—“