Luna's Arc

Chapter 13 of 29

Dawn came gray and thin. Luna woke the children one by one. She counted twenty who could walk. The rest were too small to keep up, so she paired each baby and toddler with an older child. "Hold their hand," she said. "Don't let go. Not for anything." She rolled the map tight and slid it into her coat. Then she took Luke's hand and pushed open the farmhouse door. The woods swallowed them fast. Luna walked in front, reading the ink lines by memory. Luke stayed close, his small fingers cold in hers. Behind them the Ghost Kids moved in a ragged line, the little ones stumbling, the older ones dragging them along. The oldest walked at the back, tall and thin, watching the trees. He had warned her the deep woods got worse. Luna pretended not to hear the fear in the children's breathing. An hour in, the path went quiet. Too quiet. Then Luna saw them. A cluster of slugs poured across the trail ahead. They were pale and slick, big as dogs, their dead eyes rolling. Rotting mouths gaped open, dripping. The stench hit like a wall. A toddler screamed. The whole line froze. "Back," Luna whispered. But there was no back. The trees pressed too thick on both sides. The slugs were the only way through. She grabbed a rock and threw it. It struck a pale body with a wet smack. "Throw!" she shouted. The oldest Ghost Kid hurled a stone. Then another child, then another. Rocks rained down. The slugs did not scare. They twisted toward the noise, mouths snapping, and slithered faster up the path. "It's making them worse," the oldest boy said. His voice shook. "We have to run." "We can't. The little ones can't." Luna dropped Luke's hand and turned to him. "Give me your knife." Luke pulled the red multitool from his pocket. His name gleamed on the handle. He hesitated, then pressed it into her palm. Luna pried out the blade. It was small. It would have to be enough. She stepped forward alone. The closest slug reared, jaws wide, and lunged. Luna sidestepped and drove the blade down through its skull. It went limp. She yanked the knife free and stabbed the next, and the next. Cold slime splashed her arms. She did not stop. One slug clamped onto her sleeve. She twisted and cut it loose. When the last body stopped writhing, she stood shaking over a heap of dead things. The path was clear. The children stared at her, silent. Luna wiped the blade on her coat and folded it shut. She handed the multitool back to Luke. "Thank you," she said. He nodded, wide-eyed. She took his hand again and stepped over the ruined slugs. "Come on," she called. "We keep moving." Behind her, twenty children followed her into the deep woods, toward the house that held the truth.