“My dear Jean-Luc, this is an essential part of the holiday,” Victor clapped me on the back, steering me past hay bales and piles of pre-cut pumpkins, heading deeper into the patch. “We select a pumpkin, then carve a design into it, and display it on the front stoop.”
I scowled and stared out over the field of orange and green.
I’ve been stuck in this cave for three days. Trapped by a wildergar. Once in a while, I peek through a crack between the barrier stone and the cave wall to see her—the largest and most terrifying of the mountain cats.
Her fur floats around her like feathers as she paces back and forth…
“Welcome to Extreme Maze Fest!” the announcer’s voice blared over the arena speakers. The crowd roared as the platform I stood on descended. “Eight felons, one deadly maze…”
I tuned out the announcer’s voice as best I could. The rules for the maze that plagued the annual fall festival never changed: escape or die
When I heard about our scientists’ mutation experiments, I laughed. When I saw their results, I loaded my guns.
Tranquilizer guns, of course. As the lab’s lead animal caretaker, only the pistol on my holster was deadly.
“Don’t you have anything that’s not dangerous?” I asked Dr. Jantz, our lead geneticist.
The most terrifying day of my life was humid and hot—the type of weather that either makes people love summer or wish for winter. I stood in front of Rimlain Canyons, casually scanning the uneven cliff walls with Mr. Krinkleton, a librarian and fellow adventurer. Rumor had it there were riches to be found here, yet many who went searching for them never returned.
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“Get him! Behind you!” Jax jabbed at the controls with his thumbs. “Die, wolf beast!”
“I got him!” I punched my controls, as we hunched in front of the TV screen, fighting werewolves on Wolfsbane Vengeance 4 in Jax’s dark basement.
The screen flashed red. Jax dropped his controls, groaning. “We’re never going to
It’s quite odd, realizing you’re dead.
Strangely, I didn’t know immediately. My epiphany happened last Derby, when I kissed my now-boyfriend, Reynolds, for the first time. He was a stranger then, but I realized when our lips met he had more substance. He was tangible; I was vaporous fluff.
And Eliza Booker is not vaporous or fluffy.
When I woke, I could feel each fiber of the plasticky hospital sheet covering me. But it was distant, almost like someone else was feeling it. I pulled off the sheet and stared at two human-looking legs. I dug my fingernails into my right quadricep hard enough to make it bleed but felt no pain.
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“My, that’s a fine looking bear,” Grandpa told me one evening as I cuddled my new teddy. A visit with my grandfather while Mom was on a business trip always meant a swing through the nearest toy department, where I could take my pick, more or less. He loved to watch me play and often joined in.
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North Atlantic Ocean, April 14th, 1912, 10:00 PM
“Oi!” Jewell says as he drops onto the deck. “Keep a sharp look-out for ice, particularly growlers.”
“Sea’s calm tonight.” Symons lands beside him and rubs his hands together. “It’ll make it rougher. Keep your eyes peeled, Fleet.”
“Thanks,” I respond tightly. I always dreamed of being on lookout.
Icy wind combed through my hair, cutting my exposed skin like a razor. The beast roared beneath my thighs, the machine’s force reverberating my rib cage as it churned out a wave of snow in my wake. Inside my helmet, my heart pumped like a speaker. Cold air drove down my throat to bite
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Every year it’s the same. On the twentieth day of January, I’m hustled into a room full of my captors—some of which are my size but with no basic manners—and forced to perform. Sure, I’m given some capelin as payment during these exercises, but the treat is poor compensation for the humiliation…
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