Lurking

It was crucial to have a way to exit the house discreetly should the need arise. He surveyed his room, eyeing the window. The cedar trees and a few birches swayed gradually in the wind. Below was nothing to catch his fall. He guessed it was about 20 feet or more to the ground. A jump from that height, and he would probably break some bones. It was too high and too dangerous. Wade moved through the house, his eyes assessing, ticking through possibilities. The front door presented the most straightforward exit.

Wade remembered the small window in the upstairs bathroom. It was barely big enough for him, especially in his current, younger form. The window overlooked the side of the house, where a sketchy tree limb dead, jutted out close enough to offer a risky pathway. Climbing onto the limb would require caution and would be slow.

He returned to his room, his decision made. The front door would be his first choice for its simplicity and directness. Should that fail, the bathroom window and the tree limb would be his precarious plan B.

The rest of the evening was clandestine beside the abrupt trill of the telephone. The sound muffled by the thick shag carpet beneath Wade. With Mr. Raven out on an errand, Wade instinctively knew it must be Skye answering the call. Curious, he pressed his ear into the plush fibers, attempting to sieve out the words from the low murmur that reached him. Wade discovered the carpet wasn't just for show; it was hiding a whole world of crumbs and dust. And as he lay there, the long fibers of the shag started to tickle his ear, turning his covert operation into a bit of an itchy annoyance.

The hushed tones of Skye's conversation seeped through the dense carpet, her voice unnaturally deep and scratchy, transforming her words into chilling whispers that seemed to crawl along the fringes of the silent room. "It's him," "We saw it," "Tonight," "Kill." Each phrase barely audible. Wade's eyes bulged out as he heard the inhuman sound come from Skye.

Wade's thoughts raced. 'This is wrong, so very wrong.' The urgency within him swelled, a primal scream in the quiet of his mind: 'Leave! Before the night descends with whatever horror it promises.'

With a surge of adrenaline, Wade pushed himself up. He snatched his bug-out bag, its weight a sudden comfort in his trembling hands. But as he turned towards the window, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a large pale hand peeking from behind the narrow trunk of a birch tree outside. In the blink of an eye, it vanished behind the tree trunk, leaving Wade frozen, his breath caught in his throat. There was no way someone could hide behind such a narrow tree. They would have been exposed. The trees were no longer swaying in the wind, too. The realization that he was being observed, that his every move might be under scrutiny by something unnatural, sent a chill through him.

The urge to flee, to grab his bug-out bag and escape, clashed violently with the knowledge someone or something was waiting outside. 'I can't just run.' They had him pinned in.

The once comforting thought of escape now felt like a trap. Wade stood motionless, the weight of his bag in hand, grappling with his next move. 'They're watching... waiting.'

Wade turned with deliberate slowness, feigning ignorance of the chilling presence outside his window. He moved towards the bedroom door, each step measured, trying to project an air of casualness that belied the tension coiling within him. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, a silent testament to the fear and uncertainty that gripped him.

He couldn't shake the unnerving thought that they might have been observing him all along, witnessing his every move, his preparation to flee, even his clandestine eavesdropping. Yet, he dared not indicate his awareness, especially not the sinister watcher. He needed to relocate the bag somewhere hidden, like the bathroom closet.

As Wade edged toward the door, a second thought pierced through the fog of his fear: trying too hard to seem casual, especially after overhearing such a fraught conversation, might itself raise suspicions. If they were indeed watching, his nonchalant act could come across as overly deliberate.

He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob, wrestling with how to balance his reaction. Acting too calm might be just as revealing as showing outright panic. Wade quickly turned the doorknob. It unexpectedly made contact with Skye, who seemed to have been standing just outside.

Wade's laugh came out a bit forced as he bumped into Skye. "Oh, hey! Didn't hear you lurking there," he said, surprised. "What's up?"

Skye, unmoving, eyed him closely. "Just wanted to see what you were up to," she said, her gaze drifting down to the bag at his feet.

Wade followed her gaze, then quickly recovered. "I was putting together some flyers for Dexter. Thought it might help." He tried to sound as casual as possible, patting the bag for emphasis.

"Fliers, huh?" Skye's tone was laced with a hint of doubt, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yeah, thought it would help." He tried to sound as naive as possible. Wade attempted to step around her, a clear sign he wanted to end the conversation. "Could you, uh, move a bit?" His attempt at nonchalance was thinly veiled, hoping she wouldn't press further.

She stepped aside, allowing Wade to pass. Wade made his way to the living room. He flicked on the TV, keeping the volume low. Settling onto the couch, he angled his body to keep an eye on the staircase and front door, still alert to any movements or sounds from Skye or the anticipated return of Mr. Raven. Not long after Wade had settled into the couch, footsteps approached, and Skye sat beside him on the sofa. Wade kept his gaze on the TV, acutely aware of her presence beside him.

The front door opened, and Mr. Raven came in, his boots thudding against the floor as he knocked off the snow. He made his way to the coat rack, hung up his heavy winter jacket, and left a trail of melting snowflakes behind him as he entered the living room where Wade and Skye were sitting.

As Mr. Raven stepped into the living room, he greeted Wade and Skye with an enthusiastic, "I'm back! How's everything here?" His voice, warm and hearty, momentarily lifted the room's subdued mood.

"Fine." Skye smiled.

"I'm good," Wade chimed in, seizing the opportunity to discuss his earlier plan. "I was thinking... maybe we could hang some missing posters I made for Dexter around town?"

Mr. Raven's brows furrowed before he responded, "That's very thoughtful of you, Wade, but I'm not sure it would help much right now." His tone was gentle, aiming to cushion the letdown.

Skye leaned closer to Wade. "Can we see these flyers you've made?" she asked, her gaze flickering between Wade and the bag.

Mr. Raven, now also intrigued by the mention of the bag and its contents, echoed her sentiment. "Yes, let's have a look at what you've put together, Wade." His voice carried a mix of encouragement and a father's interest in his son's initiative.

Wade laughed sheepishly, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "Actually, I kind of messed up on them," he admitted, feigning embarrassment. "Misspelled 'missing'... Can you believe it? I'm going to fix them before anyone else sees them. Save myself a little embarrassment, you know?" He hoped his act would deflect further inquiry and allow him to maintain his cover.

With a flush of pretended embarrassment still on his cheeks, Wade quickly added, "I'll just run back upstairs and fix them real quick!" Without waiting for a response, he darted towards the stairs, eager to escape the scrutiny and adjust his plans away from prying eyes.

"Okay, can't wait to see them when they're fixed!" Mr. Raven called after him, his tone encouraging.

Skye followed behind slowly. Stopping at the bottom of the steps. Wade looked behind him and closed his door. He tried his best to stay out of the view of the window. He was at a loss for how he would escape.

Wade's gaze darted around his room, searching for a clever spot to conceal his bug-out bag. The need for a quick and untraceable hiding place was paramount, especially with the unsettling developments of the evening. His eyes settled on the dirty laundry basket in the corner. He carefully buried the bag under a layer of laundry, ensuring it was well-hidden yet accessible if he needed to make a swift departure. The casual disarray of the basket helped disguise any bulges or outlines the bag might create.

Satisfied with the bag's new hiding place, Wade turned his attention to the task of creating missing posters for Dexter. It was a cover story, but now it needed to become a reality to maintain his facade. Pulling out paper and markers from his desk, he set to work. He sketched Dexter's likeness from memory, adding "MISSING" in bold letters at the top. As he worked, the soft rustle of paper was occasionally drowned out by the distant sound of something moving just out of sight, a skittering that stopped as soon as he turned to look.

He folded one and put it in his pockets.

Wade opened his bedroom door and returned downstairs, each step measured and deliberate to avoid drawing undue attention.

As he entered the kitchen, the stench of cooking lasagna filled the air. Mr. Raven stood by the oven, carefully watching over the bubbling dish, while Skye sat at the kitchen table, sipping from a coffee mug, her expression unreadable. Skye's occasional sips from her mug sounded too loud in the silence.

Glancing towards the windows, he noticed the faintest movement outside, like the swish of a robe disappearing just beyond the glass.

Mr. Raven turned at the sound of Wade's approach, his face lighting up with a warm smile. "Ah, Wade, back down so soon? Let's see those flyers you were talking about."

Wade nodded, pulling the folded poster from his pocket and extending it towards Mr. Raven. "Here it is. I thought it might help get the word out about Dexter."

Mr. Raven took the poster, unfolded it, and examined the sketch and details Wade had included. A look of genuine approval crossed his face. "This is good, Chris. Very thoughtful of you."

Skye leaned over to glance at the poster, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Cute," she commented, though her tone was ambiguous, leaving Wade uncertain of her true thoughts.

Mr. Raven, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Well, I think this calls for a break. Lunch is just about ready. Sit down, both of you."

Wade took a seat. There wasn't much talking between him and Skye. She kept casting surreptitious peeks at him.

His father tried to keep the topics of conversation cheerful and hopeful. "Come on, cheer up. Dexter's probably just lost his way. I drove by his place and had a chat with his dad. The cops and rangers are on it, even brought out the dogs. They're pretty sure they'll find him by tonight."

Wade picked at his lasagna. "I hope that's true."

"Weird, how someone can just... vanish." Skye looked up at Wade. Her eyes were piercing.

"It is weird," Wade agreed, his tone carefully measured.

Occasionally, a gust of wind would rattle the windows, each time sounding like fingernails tapping, waiting for an invitation.

Wade knew he needed a solid plan to leave the house under the guise of safety, preferably with Mr. Raven by his side. As Mr. Raven cleared the dishes, Wade racked his brain for a believable excuse. "Dad, I was thinking," Wade began, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "With everything that's happened... with Dexter and all, maybe we could go check out some places he liked? To see if, maybe, he's around. I don't know. It might make me feel better since I can't put my posters up."

Mr. Raven paused, considering Wade's request. His expression softened. "Alright," he sighed, giving in. "We can drive around town real quick."

Wade nodded, relief flooding through him. The plan was risky, but it was his best chance at leaving the house under the guise of safety. "Thanks."

Skye, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in with a hint of skepticism. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Why would he be in town? The police are already on it anyway." Her voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Mr. Raven, ever the optimist, dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "It'll be fine. Just a quick drive around town, that's all. Besides, it might help Chris take his mind off things."

Wade slipped on his jacket and shoes. Mr. Raven did as well.

"I gotta use the bathroom, be right back," Wade quickly ran upstairs.

He quickly emptied the contents of the backpack onto his bed, surveying the items. He began to place the items in his pockets strategically. The coat's numerous inner pockets and the generous space between the lining and the outer shell was perfect. He slid the smaller items into the inner pockets, spreading them out to avoid any noticeable bulging. The newspaper, folded neatly, slipped into the space between the lining and the shell, virtually undetectable but easily accessible. The food and toiletries were distributed among the coat's outer pockets, and the knife, wrapped in a cloth to prevent accidents, was tucked securely into an inside pocket. He left the clothes behind. Once in town, Wade would give Mr. Raven the slip.

As he went downstairs, he saw Skye putting on her shoes. This did not hark well for him.

Wade took a deep breath, the crisp air a welcome change from the stifling interior of the house. He squeezed uncomfortably into the middle seat of the truck, the hidden items in his coat pressing against him with every bump and turn of the road. They drove through the familiar streets of Cedar Valley. He made a show of looking around, pretending to search for any sign of Dexter, though his mind was focused on the plan he was about to enact.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Wade said suddenly, breaking the silence. He turned to Mr. Raven with a look of urgency.

"Again?" Mr. Raven's voice was tinged with irritation. "We were just at the house, Wade."

Skye, sitting beside Wade, let out a soft groan. "Really, Chris? Can't it wait till we get back?"

"Sorry, I really can't hold it," Wade insisted, the desperation in his voice feigned.

With a sigh, Mr. Raven pulled into the parking lot of a local gas station. "Alright, but make it quick," he said, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Mr. Raven asked, his protective instincts kicking in despite the annoyance.

"No, I'm good, thanks," Wade replied quickly, eager to get away from the watchful eyes of his father and sister.

Skye, seizing the opportunity to stretch her legs, announced she'd use the restroom too and followed Wade out of the truck leisurely.

The gas station was quiet in the mid-afternoon lull, a few cars coming and going but none paying much attention to the young boy hurrying towards the restroom. Inside, Wade locked the door behind him and took a moment to collect his thoughts. The restroom's fluorescent lights flickered above.