MONSTER ISLAND
Part One: Taken

Katie French

Copyright

Text copyright © 2016 by Katie French All rights reserved. www.katiefrenchbooks.com

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. For information, visit www.katiefrenchbooks.com.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

October 2016 Edition

Cover design by Najla Qamber

Edited by Lindsey Alexander

Copy Edited by Cynthia Shepp

Formatting by Polgarus Studio

Dedication

To my street team: You kick-ass book warriors, you

Table of Contents

1. Lucca

2. Kat

3. Lucca

4. Lucca

5. Kat

6. Lucca

7. Kat

8. Lucca

Need more Monster Island?

More Books by Katie French

Acknowledgements

About the Author

“Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.”
— Walter Scott, The Heart of Midlothian

1. Lucca

Lucca wakes to screaming, a girl’s terrified wail cutting through the dark.

It’s pitch dark. Bottom-of-a-well dark. And very cold.

“Help,” he croaks, forcing the word up past the sandpaper in his throat. Not sure where he is, he presses his hands out, feeling rough cloth. He struggles, legs twisting, feeling the fabric surrounding his whole body. He can barely move. How is he tied up in a bag like a cat about to be tossed into a river?

“Help!” His ragged panting fills the sack, making the panic worse. He needs to calm down.

“Someone, get me out,” he calls again.

Another scream answers him. It sounds like a girl is being murdered. Slowly.

He digs at the bag until he finds the puckered gathering near his head, prying into the opening until the pinhole widens, but it’s taking too damn long. The girl sounds like she needs help—now.

As he pulls, sweating and cursing, he searches his memory. He was walking home from school. He’d finished his Advanced Placement Psych exam, and his teacher, Mrs. Knight, had let him leave school early. Go rest your brain, Lucca, she’d said with a motherly tousle of his hair. Resting his brain on a Friday in May sounded just about perfect to him. He’d walked home with spring sunshine on his shoulders, whistling.

Another piercing scream yanks him back to the present. He pries the hole in the bag open wide enough to shove his head through. Looking around the dark enclosure, his breath puffing out in frozen clouds, his confusion solidifies. How can it be this cold in May?

The knot finally gives way, the bag falling to his feet. Panting and looking around, he sees shovels, rakes, bags of salt, and old string trimmers. He takes a step toward the back of what must be a shed and finds strange items on the wooden shelves—a broken Taser, a string of crusty rosary beads, and a rotten-smelling bag labeled “Bait.”

How in the hell did he get here?

Stumbling to the plywood door, he feels lightheaded and dizzy. With one push, the door swings open and thwacks against the building’s side. As soon as he steps out, Lucca sucks in a cold breath.

“Shit,” he whispers.

Crunchy, white snow covers the ground ahead of him. Trees as tall as California redwoods reach for the star-flecked sky in the distance. The only sound is the whistling wind and the pines scraping against each other. A nearly-full moon hangs above the tree canopy, lighting the snow a faint blueish white. The shed—a drab, rundown storage shack in need of a coat of paint—is the only building in sight.

The rest is a blank, bleak canvas. Nothing to indicate where he is. Jesus Christ.

How is it winter? Where is he?

Lucca rubs his hands on his arms, feeling the cold all the way to his bones. He’s wearing jeans, a Rolling Stones T-shirt, and a black hoodie. It had been a warm spring day the last he remembers as he rubs at the goose egg on the back of his skull. Someone must have hit him, but who? It isn’t like he has enemies. With only a few weeks left in his senior year, everyone squashed the few feuds they’d carried through high school.

A memory comes back to him… someone approaching him on the sidewalk, a voice calling his name. He’d turned around and… and then what? He never saw a face.

Her voice once again pierces the night air. “Help!”

Lucca whips toward the cry, his chest tightening with the need to help her. He runs into the shed, finds a rusted shovel, and sprints through the snow.

2. Kat

Kat claws at the tree bark, trying to climb up, but it’s no good. She’s never climbed a tree before, and, even as terrified as she is, she can’t make her body do something it isn’t used to. Bits of bark and dirt flake off under her fingernails. Her Ugg boots can’t gain traction.

“Damn it!” she yells.

Six feet away in a snowdrift, a giant, Amazon-sized snake, an anaconda maybe, sits coiled. Its muscled body is as big around as a light pole, and it must be at least seven feet long. Long enough to squeeze the life out of her and swallow her whole.

With its head raised, the snake smells the air with a flick of its forked tongue, slitted eyes watching her like she’s breakfast.

She scrambles back against the tree, her fear palpable. “Go away, snake!”

God, it’s huge. What would it feel like to suffocate in the grip of that powerful body?

The snake slithers forward a few feet, its curved mouth making a sound like air being released from a tire.

She gasps, barely able to breathe, let alone think. What should she do? With bears, people are supposed to play dead… or is it make a lot of noise? Her panic is turning her thoughts into soup.

Kat turns and claws at the bark again, fingernails fruitlessly scrambling with one last attempt to get up the tree. Her fingernails break as she desperately tries to get a hold, but the trunk’s too big around.

She can’t get her head around where she is, or why there is an anaconda in the snow.

Her heart pounding, she turns back around and watches the snake. If she runs, will it catch her? She’s seen Animal Planet. Smaller snakes than this one can take down crocodiles.

“Help!” she screams again, her breath an icy cloud of terror.

Stay calm, she tells herself. Making so much noise can’t be helping anything. No one is coming to her rescue.

Suddenly, the snake rears up, lifting its head and exposing a pale white belly. Jutting off either side of the snake’s torso is a series of insect-like legs. She stares, not believing her eyes. It’s a giant… centipede?

“What is happening?”

Narrow eyes lock onto hers as it skitters forward in attack.

Primal instinct taking her over, Kat doesn’t think. She runs.

She takes off into the forest. Barely able to see, she stumbles and falls several times, plunging headfirst into the underbrush. Branches slice her face and arms, the trickles of blood chilling her. Cutting through the snow behind her, the snake’s movements are heavy, loud. It’s close. Scrambling back up, tears clouding her vision, she charges through the forest as fast as she can.

It’s coming. It’s going to eat me.

Her heart surges up in her chest when she spots a break in the trees. Civilization. There has to be someone there to help.

But the trees part just as the land disappears, revealing a slash of dark blue sea. She realizes the clearing is a cliff too late. Skidding to a stop, rocks scattering beneath her feet, she windmills her arms to catch her balance, as her eyes gaze in horror at the drop before her. It plunges down hundreds of feet. Angry waves pound against the shoreline.

She’s going to fall and die.

Something grabs her wrist, yanking her back, her arm snapping taut in her socket. She struggles, lashing out, trying to pull away.

Through her terror, she sees a boy. After pulling her a safe distance from the cliff, he drops her wrist and steps back. Dark, soulful eyes stare back at her. He’s wearing faded hipster T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers splattered with icy mud. He holds a shovel in one hand, half raised like he’s about to cut her head off with it.

Fear still screaming through her mind, she punches him as hard as she can, spins, and bolts into the trees.

3. Lucca

Rubbing the tender spot above his jaw, Lucca stares after the girl as she lurches through the woods. Maybe he should’ve thought this through. Lowering the shovel, he realizes he had lifted like a weapon. He probably did look a little like a serial killer.

He stands there for a second longer, wondering who the girl is. She looked dirty and scared, and he isn’t sure if going after her will only make it worse. But he can’t just leave her. Maybe she knows something he doesn’t.

With a sigh, he launches into the forest after her.

“Hey,” he calls as he jogs, using his shovel to push away branches. Brambles and thorns stick his fingers, and into the soft flesh of his palms. Soon, shadows surround him, the moonlight drowned out by the thick canopy of trees. The darkness slides in dangerously fast. “Hey, come back!”

“Stay away,” the girl yells over her shoulder. Even in the dusk, he can tell her clothes are torn and muddy. The brief glance he catches of her face shows her terror. She’s just like him. Maybe.

Still trekking after her, he thinks of the cliff and the vast expanse of water. It really made this all the more real. Part of him had thought he was on some soundstage—that it was one big practical joke or a prank show. But now…

This is the real goddamned deal. A Doors song sticks in his head, “The End.” Pushing the morbid lyrics away, he tries to pick through dense brush without losing all the skin on his hands or his grip on the shovel. Disobedient Jim Morrison still sings in his head, dark and brooding.

Maybe Jim Morrison isn’t the best guy to set the mood right now.

He searches his memory, thinking of his last walk home in the spring sunshine. Sarah Beth Harrison had just agreed to go to prom with him, and his University of Michigan acceptance letter had arrived last week. Mom had already come home with posters for his dorm room.

A stray image hits him like a swinging door. A white van. He remembers a white van with no decals and no windows. He grabs onto the thought, trying to bring up more details. He’d spotted the creepy vehicle on his walk home and thought, Who drives a van with no windows? Only child molesters and the CIA.

Had he been kidnapped by the CIA? He barks out a rough-sounding laugh at the thought. God, that was ridiculous. His mom was a part-time fitness instructor and his dad a business analyst. Clearly, he’d watched too many Liam Neeson movies over spring break.

The girl looks back as she clambers over a three-foot-high log and drops down into the crunchy snow, not stopping. The trees here seem to shoot into the stratosphere. He’s never seen pines this big, and he isn’t even sure which country has them. Canada? Iceland? His mind spins.

“Hey, stop, please,” he calls. “I’m freezing and my Converse are ruined.” He lifts one of his brand new Chuck Taylors and sighs. He’d spent all his Battle of the Bands winnings on these shoes. Besides, he’s tired of trudging after her. “Can you just stop and talk to me? I’m not going to eat you. At least, not until starvation sets in.”

He winces. Bad joke. He tries a reassuring smile instead.

“How do I know you’re not an ax murderer?” she shouts over her shoulder, still picking her way through the dense undergrowth. “I wake up here, and there’s a snake with arms… and now you.”

A snake with—what?

“You woke up here?” he calls, pushing a gnarly branch out of the way. “I woke up here, too, literally ten minutes ago.”

She stops midstride and eyes him. Wearing an oversize turquoise sweater, black leggings, and black Uggs, she’s as ill equipped for the weather as he is. She has to be freezing.

He sets the shovel down and tries a nice-guy smile, the one he uses when he’s trying to get out of trouble. “I’m harmless, I swear. Boy Scout’s honor?”

She furrows her brow, still looking cautious. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Nah, but my next-door neighbor was, so I’m pretty sure that makes me half Boy Scout by proxy.”

She entertains a smirk, but then seems to think better of it. “How do I know you aren’t lying?”

He holds out his empty hands. She watches him warily, but she isn’t running away. She has wide green eyes that are nearly luminescent when the stray beams of moonlight hit them. She’s way hotter than Sarah Beth Harrison, even with half the forest knotted in her hair. The confusion swirling through him at what is going on doesn’t stop the instant attraction—it only intensifies it. He wants to pick twigs out of her crimson curls, feel the strands between his fingertips.

Her mouth sets in a firm line, determination crossing her features. “Stay away from me.” She turns to clamber away again.

Shoulders slumping, he kicks at a rock. She doesn’t trust him. Women.

And then, once more, he follows.

The terrain is rough, and they make little progress. Lucca tugs his hoodie over his head. Even with a good sweat going, the cold is bone chilling. His toes are going numb, and no matter how much he rubs his hands together, he can’t feel his fingers. He tries to remember how long it takes for exposed skin to develop frostbite. Soon, he’s not going to care if the girl gets eaten. He’s going to stop following her to start looking for civilization… hopefully, a pay phone.

Phone! He had his cell phone on him during his walk home from school. Hope almost smothering him, he digs in his pocket only to find a slip of paper. A handwritten message cuts across it in ominous black letters.

Pay for your sins!

Lucca stares, struggling to breathe.

What sins? He’d lied to his mom about going to the movies with a friend last week. Was that a sin? Church had never been a big deal in his family. He has no idea if this has to do with religion, or if it’s someone messing with him. After he crumples the paper, fear and frustration mounting, he shoves it deep in his pocket. His hands are shaking.

The girl has stopped trekking, standing still and tense with her face tilted up. Lucca jogs over, skidding next to her. She doesn’t hit him or run. She’s too busy staring at the structure ahead.

In the middle of a snow-covered clearing, huge, barred cages gleam in the moonlight. Lucca counts eight, each at least twelve feet tall and thirty feet wide, with huge metal doors. Eight cages large enough to hold the world’s biggest and most dangerous animals.

All the doors are open.

4. Lucca

“Do you think there were… animals in those?” the girl asks.

Lucca checks the clearing before stepping out of the forest cover. Animal scents are thick here—feces and raw meat, fur and musk. On the ground in front of one of the open doors, the snow is muddy and churned up. Huge gouges look like claw marks. He drops to a knee, examining the similar indentations that cut through the snow in front of the other cages, heading toward the trees.

She kneels beside him. “What do you think made those? They look deep.” She touches an indent with her finger. “Lion?”

“Velociraptor?” he says, trying to be funny. When he sees the horrified look on her face, he holds up his hands. “Kidding. I watched Jurassic World four times in 3-D IMAX. Dinosaur overload.”

She wrinkles her freckled nose at him.

God, I’m pathetic, he thinks.

“Do you think whatever made these marks is out there?” she asks, looking nervous.

Lucca scans the trees, not able to stop picturing yellow eyes lurking behind every shadow. Gripping his shovel, he scans the cages—all empty, doors flung wide as if someone hit a switch to automatically release whatever they held. He walks around the enclosure until he finds a pile of scat. It’s also huge.

“I hope not.”

She steps back from the cage, her eyes trained on the shadows. “How fast can you run?”

“What?”

“I only need to run faster than you to escape, right? Just wondering what my chances are.”

He smiles despite the coil of fear in his stomach. “You’re gonna have to run pretty damn fast. I won best participant in my fifth-grade field day. I could smoke you.”

She frowns. “This isn’t the time for witty banter.”

“Noted. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They walk quietly around the steel enclosures, trying not to draw attention. Lucca is looking for safety, but what he finds are more gouges in the earth. More scat. When they look in the cage on the end, they find a picked over skeleton the size of a zebra. Dried blood is grotesquely smeared on the open door of the cage.

The girl recoils, pointing a trembling finger. “What was that?”

Lucca shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, just so she can’t see them tremble. He covers for his fear with more jokes. “The better question would be, is whoever ate it still hungry?”

She tugs at his sleeve, green eyes wide. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

They stride around the last enclosure, keeping their gaze on the trees. The clearing is moonlit, but the huge conifers blanket the forest in deep, dark shadows.

A low cinderblock building with a solid front door—also ajar—sits at the back. The handprint dead center sends an unmistakable message: Run away. Fast.

Her hands twine around his arm. “Is that more blood?”

Lucca nods. No jokes now. He stares into the open doorway. The hallway beyond is pitch black. Deep inside, the electric hum of some machine vibrates his teeth.

A thrashing from the trees draws their attention. The sound is distinct—twigs snapping and branches bowing under pressure.

Something is coming.

“Go, go!” She pushes his shoulder, urging him on.

He runs through the bloody door, pulling her behind him. When they’re in, he pushes the door shut. In the dark, his hands fumble for a lock, but all he finds is a dented handle and frayed metal.

“I can’t shut it,” he says, trying not to sound panicked.

“What do you mean?” She pushes his hands out of the way and feels around for herself. “Who in the heck would do this?”

“No time,” he says, thinking of the huge claw marks. “Inside.”

He thought the forest was dark, but the nearly full moon offered more light than he knew. Only the faintest of outlines are visible now—a black rectangle here, a blacker square there.

“What’s your name?” the girl whispers.

“Lucca.”

“Lucca, I’m Kat. And I’m not going to lie, I’m freaking out.” She shifts even closer, her breath tickling his neck.

“Stay behind me.” Thank God it’s too dark for her to see the terror on his face.

He takes a step forward. Then another. His footsteps are loud on the tile even though he’s taking pains to be quiet.

They slip through, each keeping a hand on the wall. After six steps, Lucca’s fingers trace over a doorframe. He fumbles down and finds the handle.

“In here,” he whispers.

He grips the knob, cold against his sweaty palm, and turns it.

Electric light and machine static pools out. Lucca slips in with Kat behind him.

A greenish glow comes from a series of monitors filling up the far wall. Most are blank or show fuzzy static, but a few show different night-vision scenes—tall pines, an icy coastline with rocks jutting like jagged teeth, a snow-capped hut with a thatched roof, and an industrial building similar in shape and size to this one.

Kat walks up, putting her hands on the back of an office chair situated in front of a keyboard. Her face is bathed in green light. “Where in God’s name are we?”

Lucca lets his eyes flit from scene to scene—giant trees and pinecones, frozen water, brick buildings, cages. None of it makes sense.

“Last I knew, I was in Michigan, walking home from school,” he whispers, leaning forward to squint at the images.

When he turns back, Kat is staring at him, disbelief etched in her features “I was in Virginia.”

“Really?” Lucca asks.

“Yeah. I was at home watching my little sister. My nana was out to dinner. There was a knock on my door…” Her face is pale and tears gather in her eyes. “Two men grabbed me and one pressed a cloth over my mouth. It smelled awful. I don’t know what happened to my sister.”

“Someone kidnapped me, too.”

Kat grips the chair as if her legs are about to buckle. “Who would do that? And why would they bring us to some… some animal-infested forest?”

Lucca looks back at the screens for an answer, but all he finds are more questions. “I have no idea.”

Remembering the ominous note in his pocket, he reaches for it.

“Look,” Kat says, pointing to a screen.

His eyes dart up. On the monitor, a figure tears across a snowy lawn outside a concrete building.

Kat leans toward the screen. “He’s running from something.”

When the figure looks back, Lucca sees a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, in a jacket and jeans. As he sprints across the snow, he keeps looking over his shoulder.

“Where is he?” Kat asks.

A dark shadow streaks across the screen so fast it’s just a blur. The boy runs for his life, but the dark shape tackles him, dragging him off screen.

Lucca is sure if they could hear, the boy would be screaming.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Kat’s hands cover her mouth. “What was that?”

Lucca takes deep, shaking breaths and tries to calm himself. “It looked like an animal.”

“What kind of animal?” Her eyes are locked on the screen, but nothing moves.

Lucca puts a hand on her back. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “It’s okay. We’re safe here.” He doesn’t feel safe at all, but it seems like the right thing to say.

Kat looks up with wet but grateful eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something witty, but is cut short by a noise at the end of the hall.

Screech… the slow creak of hinges opening is distinct in the silence.

The door.

5. Kat

Kat grabs Lucca’s arm. “It’s coming,” she whispers.

“Over there. Under the desk.” He pulls out the rolling desk chair to make space for her.

She crouches down and scoots beneath the desk, weaving herself between hanging computer wires. Hugging her knees to her chest, she feels her beating heart against them. Lucca curls in beside Kat, but his long legs barely fit.

“Don’t move.” His shoulder presses into hers. Even in her terror, she can’t let go of the thought that she’s pressed in this tiny space with a boy she does not know. He seems nice, but looks could be misleading. But what other choice does she have? After everything she’s seen in the last fifteen minutes, she knows Lucca is the most normal thing in this messed-up place.

Something shuffles at the end of the hallway. Whoever or whatever it is, it has entered the building.

Kat can’t breathe. She keeps her eyes trained on the door. What’ll they do if something comes in? Lucca’s shovel rests on the wall beside the door, too far for him to grab.

The clacking of nails on the tile sends chills up her spine. She can’t wrap her mind around what kind of animal it could be. The size of the cages and the gigantic droppings means it has to be huge. She once watched a TV special about a lion raised in captivity. The almost five-hundred-pound lion hugged his human companion when they were reunited after several years apart. But the thing chasing that boy on the surveillance camera? It didn’t go after him to snuggle. She shivers, trying to get deeper into her hiding spot.

Her thoughts fall away as the footsteps move closer. Step after agonizing step. Closer and closer. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. Her mind flashes images of horrible fangs and claws, hot jets of blood. She clenches her fists and tries to get the images to stop as the toenails click right outside the door.

Lucca’s hand finds hers.

Slowly, the door to their room squeaks open.

She doesn’t breathe.

Something stands in the doorway, a massive, dark shadow.

Oh God.

It sniffs the room, two big, loud intakes of air.

Lucca tenses beside her. What will it feel like to be eaten? Is it possible, Kat wonders, to die from fear?

Slowly, it steps out of the doorway and continues down the hall.

Lucca looks at her, his eyes wide with terror, and mouths, What was that?

She shakes her head, still too afraid to move. It could come back. She wills herself to blend in to the dust bunnies gathered around her feet.

They wait long, agonizing seconds as the toenails click down the hallway. After a moment, they hear nothing.

God, she has to get out of here. Now that the immediate terror has passed, her mind begins to churn up questions again. Who would want to kidnap her? Is her little sister okay? Joslyn is only twelve. Please, God, don’t let her be here, too.

After several minutes, Lucca looks over at her. “Think the coast is clear?”

Kat shrugs, not sure they should talk. Not sure she can talk. But Lucca quietly slides out the desk chair and stands. From her position among her new tribe of dust bunnies, she watches him tiptoe to the door and peer into the hallway.

When nothing rips his head off, he waves her out from under the desk. Reluctantly, she uncurls and brushes herself off.

Lucca runs a nervous hand down his ponytail as he looks around. She’s usually not into guys with long hair, but it works on him. He has a sexy rock ’n’ roll vibe, like the lead singer of that boy band her sister is into. Not that she’s attracted to him, this boy she just met who still could be an ax murderer.

“Whatever that was, it appears to have vamoosed,” he whispers.

“I wouldn’t say it ‘vamoosed,’” she says, making air quotes with her fingers. “And what’s to stop it from coming back?” She can’t keep her eyes away from the little slash of hallway that’s visible.

Lucca examines the door’s handle and jiggles it a little. “The lock’s broken on this door, too, just like the exterior door. I’m willing to bet all the locks in this place have been jacked. Whoever put us here wanted us to be dead meat.”

She wraps her arms around herself, her eyes drawn back to the monitors. If someone stumbled in here and only saw the screens, they’d assume this was some fancy Girl Scout camp. She walks over and looks closer. Moonlight glistens off the frozen coastline. The sea beyond it seems to stretch to the end of the world. “I don’t get it. Why are we here?”

Lucca shakes his head, walking over and opening a cabinet on the far wall. The shelves hold rows and rows of black binders, all identical. He takes one in his hands and examines it. “Ever heard of Project Mosaic?”

She walks over and peers down at the binder he’s holding. “Project Mosaic” is stamped on the front along with three entwining circles. Lucca opens the binder. Page after page has been blacked out with Sharpie like a teen obliterating a failed report card. Lucca flips page after mutilated page until he reaches the end. Written not in black, but in blood-red letters, are the words…

If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not REVENGE?

“This is the same handwriting as my note.” Lucca digs in his pocket, pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, and spreads it out on top of the binder.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she says. Her junior-year English teacher adored The Merchant of Venice. She’d spent a full month just waiting for the torture of that unit to end. Looking at the note, she can feel her forehead wrinkle with confusion. “Pay for your sins? What sins? Where’d you get this?”

“It was in my pocket when I woke up.” He looks at the paper, looking as frightened as she is, which makes her think he might be okay after all.

“Did you… did you do something that would make someone want revenge?” Kat asks him carefully.

Lucca furrows his brow and rubs it. “That’s the thing. I’ve been racking my brain. I cheated on a math final; I didn’t pay my library book fines; I lied to my mom… I mean, nothing that seems to warrant this level of death-to-all-infidels-type revenge.” He looks at her. “What about you? Robbed any banks lately? Killed any puppies?”

“No!” She vehemently shakes her head. “Nothing other than being mean to my sister.” But then, it hits her. Slams directly into her stomach. That thing she did—the unspeakable thing. But no one knows about it. They can’t. Can they?

She offers a smile, though she’s cold inside. “Nothing.”

If he suspects she’s lying, it doesn’t show in his casual grin. “Nah, you don’t look like the bank-robbing type.”

A cold knife is twisting in her gut. Could this be her fault?

Lucca slaps the notebook shut. They open several more, only to find more blacked-out entries, or pages ripped out entirely.

“Whoever did this was thorough—busting locks, ruining documents.” Lucca closes another binder and shoves it back on the shelf. “If only we had a phone.”

Kat digs in her pocket and produces her iPhone. Lucca’s eyes light up, but she shakes her head. “Not even a whiff of a signal.”

“Mine’s gone.” Lucca frowns. “Loved that damn phone. Had some great new lyrics ready to go. Guess I’ll have to look for some new material.”

He smiles in that almost flirty way he has, all dimples and crinkled brown eyes. There’s something about his bravado, his humor covering his quiet strength, that she’s sure drives the girls at his school wild. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have time for his charm.

She walks over to the computer. “Maybe we can send a message on one of these babies.” She sits down and mouses over the networks and connection settings, clicking around.

Lucca hovers behind, watching. “You know your way around a computer.”

She nods, not looking up as she runs command scripts. “My mom was a computer scientist before she became a genetic engineer. She made me play programming games instead of Candyland.” Kat clicks and digs, but just like the door locks and binders, someone has been in here. “No Wi-Fi or Internet. No outside signal of any kind. And the intranet is password locked. They left no stone unturned.”

Lucca points at a monitor. “Look!”

The screen shows the kid they saw running for his life a few minutes ago staggering into the frame. Even though the camera image is blurry in the dark, it’s clear he’s clutching his side and limping through the snow. He’s been injured.

“Oh, damn! That thing got him.” Lucca holds his fist to his mouth. “He’s tore up.”

Kat stands and walks closer. The boy collapses in front of a building that looks like a small hotel.

Lucca looks at her, the light reflecting off his face. “He’s dead if he stays there.”

Kat frowns. “Might be dead anyway.”

They watch for long, agonizing seconds. The boy doesn’t move.

Lucca rubs a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “We can’t leave him out there.”

She knows he’s right, but the thought of going back outside terrifies her. “Do you even know where this is?” She gestures to the screen with the lifeless boy and the building behind him.

Lucca darts his eyes from screen to screen. “I think this is where I woke up,” he says, pointing to a rundown shack. “And the cliff is east. So… if we head west from here, we’ll probably find these buildings.” He points to a series of screens showing shadowy buildings.

She swallows hard. “And what’ll we do if one of those things comes after us?”

Lucca retrieves his rusty shovel. It looks so puny now. “Stick with me. I’ve got a thing or two up my sleeve.”

She rolls her eyes. “I hope what you’ve got up your sleeve is an M16. If something horrible pops out of the dark, I’m totally abandoning you.”

Lucca shrugs. “Fair enough.”

They slip out of the room and tiptoe down the hall. In the dark, with the memory of the animal stalking the building, she wants nothing more than to tuck herself under the desk again. Every sound makes her jump. Every shadow looks like it’ll tear out and devour her. The hallway is as dark as a cave, but the rooms they pass have windows that let in moonlight. A strong smell begins to trickle from the room up ahead—the tangy odor of blood. Once again, warnings blare in her head.

A side door is open. She doesn’t want to see.

Lucca stops in the doorway, his mouth dropping open. “Oh God.”

Not able to help herself, she peers around the corner.

It looks like an operating room out of a horror movie. Scalpels, saws, and all kinds of horrible instruments line one wall. She’s never seen so many sharp objects in one place before. An operating table the width of a king-sized bed and a huge, dome-shaped overhead lamp take up the middle of the room. But it looks like whoever was the last patient wasn’t so accommodating. Carts have been flipped over. Supplies are scattered on the floor. Her eyes lock on a smear of something brown that might be blood, but it’s too hard to see in the dark.

“Can we please get the hell out of here?” She pulls Lucca’s sleeve and urges him past.

“Yeah,” is all he says. She can’t see his face, but his voice is thin.

The next room is an office, but it, too, is torn apart. There might be clues in the piles of spilled paper, but in the dark, it’ll be impossible to find them. And, somewhere, there’s a boy slowly bleeding to death out in the snow.

She’d cry if she thought it would help.

The back door is thrown wide open, letting in an icy draft. Through it, Kat can see the moonlit lawn covered in snow and the wall of trees just beyond the clearing. Lucca points, whispering, “A path. I bet that leads somewhere.”

“To our unfortunate demise?” But she follows after him, quietly slipping out the door and across the snowy lawn. The blanket of white is crisscrossed by tracks, some old, some very fresh, but all huge. Kat can’t look at them for long, or she’ll have a nervous breakdown. At least the tracks head away from where Lucca says they need to go.

Be grateful for the little things, right? That was her nana’s mantra.

Kat and Lucca run carefully, the snow crunching anyway. Lucca skids to a stop just inside the tree cover where a small footpath cuts through the brush. “See,” he says, pointing, “west.”

She nods.

Lucca leads them into the trees. The air is still and crisp. Every breath is a small crystal cloud trailing up from her lips. With the scent of pine so strong here, she begins to feel a little better. Pine trees mean Christmas, opening presents from her parents while Nana makes mulled cider. Yet, the path grows increasingly dark until they can’t see anything, and she loses the feeling. Kat pulls out her cell phone and turns on the flashlight app. Her battery is only half charged, and she knows it won’t hold out forever. Still, the thought of being in complete darkness in a forest full of giant creatures is unbearable. Even with the tiny but powerful beam from her phone, she can barely see Lucca or the path. Slipping her fingers around the bottom hem of his hoodie, she holds on.

He looks back at her, curiosity on his face.

“So you can’t disappear,” she says, shrugging.

“Was just planning a game of hide-and-seek, but you’re too quick.” He smiles, his dark-brown eyes twinkling in her flashlight, and continues to lead them down the path.

Every sound makes her jump. The cracking twigs beneath her feet. The groan of branches in the wind. A hoot from an owl somewhere above. She imagines a whole host of beasts lurking in the dark and hums quietly to drown out her terror.

“Is that Nirvana?” Lucca asks, pushing a huge branch out of his way and holding it back as she passes.

“‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,” she says, feeling heat in her cheeks. “But I’m kinda tone deaf.”

“I really dig Nirvana. Kurt went way before his time. Sometimes I sit and think about all the songs he could’ve written, and it just guts me.” He steps carefully over a fallen log and holds his hand out to help her over.

Kat scampers over the log on her own. “But maybe if he’d lived, his music would’ve suffered. It was his pain that drove his lyrics.”

Lucca nods and sings a few lines from “Heart-Shaped Box.” He sings better than Kurt Cobain by a Seattle mile, and it feels good to hear something besides the erratic beating of her heart, but her nerves won’t allow her to encourage him. “You should probably keep it down. Just in case something out there wants to eat us.”

Lucca stops singing and shrugs. “Sure.”

But without his song, the silence is a hand around her throat. She wishes she had the guts to ask him to continue. A strange trilling sound, like a large bird or frog, sounds in the distance. Kat jumps, sending her flashlight bobbing. “God, this is so messed up. Why would someone do this to us?”

“Judging by this goose egg, somebody whacked me pretty good.” He places his hand on his head. “I can’t believe I got honest-to-God kidnapped. Mind equals blown.”

Kat remembers her own kidnapping. Two men all in black with Halloween masks were standing on her stoop when she opened the door. One had a gun. The other stepped forward with a rag that reeked of chemicals. Behind her, Joslyn, her little sister, began to scream.

“Do your parents have money?” Kat asks.

“Nope,” Lucca says. “My ma’s a fitness instructor. You know, Zumba, Pilates, shake your body. My dad… he’s not around a lot.”

“He travels?”

Lucca nods, but his expression darkens.

“Mine, too. But they love us, and my nana makes up the slack.”

Kat can tell he wants more, but he doesn’t pry. Instead, he blows his breath into his sleeve-covered hands. Her own fingers are going numb. Pulling her sweater over her fists, she tries not to think about frostbite.

The trees are thinning out, and she notices it’s easier to follow the trail. Ahead, a moonlit clearing comes into view.

“We made it,” Lucca says, walking to the edge and peering out. “That kid’s got to be here somewhere.”

Spread out before them is another swatch of snow-covered lawn and, beyond that, a building. The structure reminds Kat of a small hotel with its potted topiaries, brick-paver driveway, and a lighted entrance.

The only thing that mars the perfection is the body in the snow.

The boy.

“There he is,” Lucca says, stepping out of the shadows.

“Wait!” Kat tugs on his hoodie. “What if whatever got him is still around? What if…” She glances around the all-too-quiet clearing. “What if they’re still out there?”

Lucca scans the clearing, and then looks furtively at the boy. “We gotta help him.”

Taking a deep breath, she lets go of his hoodie. “Let’s get him inside the hotel.” The lights inside show a small lobby. “It might have heat, water, something to help us patch him up.” They can help the boy and get warm at the same time. If they don’t die first.

Lucca nods, his body taut. He grips the tree in front of him and takes a few deep breaths. “On the count of three. One. Two. Listen, if you want to stay behind—”

She blows out an icy breath. “Let’s just go.”

“Sorry. Sorry,” he says, holding out his hands. “Women’s lib. I get it. Just wanted to offer.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. One, two, three.”

They sprint into the clearing, the snow flinging from their feet. Being out in the open is terrifying. Kat glances at Lucca—his long legs striding gracefully. She snaps her attention to the boy on the ground. Around him, the snow is stained pink. It’s not a good sign.

Lucca gets to him first, falling to his knees at the boy’s side. He slides a hand along the kid’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

He looks to be of Indian or Pakistani descent judging from his complexion and features. His clothes are high-end—North Face jacket and expensive sneakers, now soaked. Did the same person who brought her and Lucca here bring this kid? She reaches down. As she does, the boy opens his eyes and sits upright, startling her. His gaze darts from Lucca to Kat. Her eyes lock on the blood staining his bottom lip.

“Run!” he screams.

Kat watches, confused, as he scrambles up and runs lopsidedly toward the building behind them. The next moments blur together… she has no idea what is happening.

“Kat, go!” Lucca yells.

Go where?

She turns. Two shapes curl out of the trees, big as horses, but bulky with muscle. Their eyes glow yellow in the moonlight. Horror-movie monsters. But they’re real. Coming right at them.

6. Lucca

Lucca pulls frantically on Kat’s arm, but she seems frozen. The beasts—whatever the hell they are—churn forward with powerful strides. They’re too far away to tell, but he knows this—they will tear them to shreds if they stay where they are.

“Come on!” He pulls, and she finally unfreezes, scrambling over the snow.

They run past the bloodstained patch, the ceramic planters, the snow-dusted wrought-iron benches, and the concrete patio. The hotel doors slide open.

They skid to a stop in the dimly lit lobby. Lucca’s eyes flick over leather armchairs, the counter with dusty coffee carafes, and the concierge desk. No weapons. Nowhere to hide.

“Where do we go?” Kat screams.

He runs back to the first set of sliding doors, but they pop back open as he approaches. Automatic, they’re motion detecting. Searching frantically for a lock, he comes up with nothing.

Shit.

The creatures jump the big planters and land on the driveway outside the hotel. When the exterior light hits them, it’s all Lucca can do not to scream.

They look like wolves—pointed ears, wide-spaced predatory eyes, canine mouths with jagged teeth—but their size and gait suggest something bigger, like grizzly bears. Brown, shaggy fur covers their hides. Beneath it, muscles flex as each stands like a dog that’s scented another in his territory. They must weigh half a ton. Their jowls curl up in a sneer and a foamy white spittle collects on their lower lips.

They’ll be inside in seconds.

Lucca looks at his shovel. Useless. His eyes search the room. Dim hallways lead off to the right and behind them, but the beasts are so fast. They’ll be inside before Lucca and Kat can get halfway down a hall. No time to hide. No time for anything.

“Get behind me,” he says, holding the shovel like a bat. On the other side of the automatic doors, the beasts watch. No, they evaluate. Lucca’s brain still can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. They’re mutants—genetic freaks of nature—legs the size of tree trunks, yellow canine eyes narrowing as they appear to consider their situation.

They circle close to the first set of doors, hot breath puffing on the glass. Long, wolfish fangs gleaming.

Dire wolves, that’s what they look like. Except their build is bulkier. But this isn’t a damn TV show, Lucca thinks as a chill of terror trickles down his spine.

The first set of automatic doors slides open. Now, only one set of doors separates them.

Lucca holds his breath. His heart pounds into his sternum. He can feel Kat trembling behind him.

The wolf-bears lope back and forth across the entrance, gazing in hungrily.

Kat presses close. “We. Should. Run.”

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “They’ll catch us. Stand your ground. They haven’t charged yet.”

“Yet?” she whispers.

The outside doors hiss shut. One of the wolf-bears stalks in front of it, forcing the door open again. Lucca can smell them—the earthen stink of musk and blood. As one paces past, Lucca sees a dried brownish red patch on its muzzle. It is probably the injured boy’s blood, but he has no idea where that kid went.

The bigger of the two wolf-bears flicks a glance at his partner and trains his gaze on the doors. Lowering his ears, he charges forward.

The outer door slides open again.

Lucca grips the shovel.

The wolf-bear walks through the airlock, its massive size taking up nearly every inch.

The last set of doors, the only thing separating these horrible animals from Lucca and Kat, slide open.

Lucca can’t breathe. The shovel seems ridiculous.

Nothing separates him from the beast, just feet away. His heart slams against his ribs as he eyes those giant teeth. Hackles raised, head bowed, the beast takes a step forward, sending a tremor through the floor. Lucca shudders, taking a step back and moving Kat with him. Its yellow eyes boring into Lucca, it takes another step. Both giant paws stop just inside the last set of doors. From here, Lucca can smell its rank breath, see the spots of black on its pink tongue.

Lucca can’t stop looking at the teeth, at the blood on its muzzle.

The animal lifts a giant paw and places it inside the lobby. A growl rumbles through the hotel.

Lucca raises the shovel and readies himself. All he wants is to see his mom again.

The beast lunges, then skids to a stop three feet away, its head snapping down as if it’s in pain. The animal shakes it as if he’s trying to dislodge something.

Lucca looks back; the other one is doing the same thing outside the doors. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

The wolf-bear backs out, ears flat, head shaking. Outside, his partner does the same.

The creatures turn and retreat toward the forest.

What the hell?

Kat’s hand on his shoulder draws Lucca back from his stupor. “Wh-what just happened?” Her face is ashen.

He stares at the closed glass doors. “I… don’t know.”

“Th-they just left.” She points to the forest. “They acted like something was hurting them. Some sort of force field or something.”

Lucca runs shaking hands through his hair. “I can’t believe it.”

“What were they?”

Lucca touches her arm. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re gone. They can’t come in.”

She stares over his shoulder into the dark. “How do you know?”

“Something stopped them. Come on. We need to get somewhere safe in case they come back.”

Tears well in her green eyes, brimming over. “Nowhere is safe.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find something.”

But he’s not so sure.

They leave the dusty lobby and take the first hallway on their right, past the concierge desk and a plate of stale cookies. Someone’s been here recently, but he isn’t sure how long ago. Lucca grabs the stack of chocolate chip cookies and hands half to Kat, which she accepts but doesn’t eat. He scarfs three down in as few bites as possible. They’re brittle and dry, but he realizes how hungry he’s become in the last couple of hours. He’ll probably need to come back for those coffee carafes too, but not before they find a safe place to hole up in while they figure out what to do.

The lobby tile gives way to industrial carpeting with blue and cream checks. The framed wall art is generic, the plants on the end tables fake and dusty. The decor screams mid-range hotel. He stares at a watercolor painting of sailboats and thinks how normal this place seems in this upside-down world.

Even in hell, there is cheesy art.

After turning another corner, they find rows of doors. Each has a room number, a peephole, and a card slider lock.

“Blood,” Kat says dully; her voice is hollow.

Lucca’s eyes follow to where she’s pointing—a fresh bloodstain on the hallway carpet five doors down underneath a door marked “Maintenance.” There’s no card swipe here, and the doorknob has a smear of blood on it.

“Think he’s in there?” Kat whispers.

Lucca reaches for the knob.

Kat puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

She knocks quietly on the door. “Hello? Are you in there?”

Nothing.

She shrugs and leans closer to the door. “The monsters are gone.” She pauses. “We know you’re hurt. Maybe we can help.”

At first, nothing. Then, slowly, the doorknob turns.

The door opens to darkness. A light clicks on.

The boy stands in the doorway. He’s slightly shorter than Lucca, maybe five-ten with big, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a small, angular nose. His name-brand T-shirt is torn and smeared with blood. With one hand, he presses against a large bloodstain just below his ribs. Eyes flicking between Kat and Lucca, he blinks twice and stumbles back into the closet.

His body hits the floor with a thud.

“Oh God,” Kat says, scrambling forward.

Lucca rushes in after her, kneeling down.

The boy’s out cold. Kat taps his face a few times, but he doesn’t respond. “We need something—a first-aid kit or… I don’t know.” She starts searching the closet.

Mini hotel shampoos, conditioners, and lotions line one shelf. Boxes of shower caps, tiny mints, and cheap-looking toothbrushes on another. On the floor are cleaning supplies.

She points at the giant stack of white hotel towels. “Toss me some washcloths.”

Lucca hands her several. When she peels back the boy’s shirt, it reveals nasty gashes running parallel to his ribs. She winces but dabs away some of the blood with the washcloth.

“Why didn’t they eat him?” Lucca asks, watching her.

Kat stops a moment, looking down at the gash in the boy’s skin. “It’s a pretty superficial wound. Maybe they weren’t hungry. Maybe they already ate?”

Lucca shudders. “Let’s not talk about what they ate.”

“I need water and soap,” she says, pushing her curls behind her ears.

He grabs a large cleaning bucket and a bar of soap wrapped in paper. The stamp on the front is the same three intertwining circles they saw on the binder in the building next to the cages. “I think I spotted a bathroom by the lobby.”

She looks up from the boy’s wound, concern etched on her face. “Lucca, be careful.”

He smiles. “I think I’m growing on you.”

“Like a fungus.” She turns back to the boy’s wound, saying, “Just get me the water.”

In the hallway, the dim fluorescent lights and the vast emptiness of the hallways remind him of scenes from The Shining. He expects twin girls to appear at the end of the hallway. “Come play with us, Danny,” he whispers, gripping the bucket. He speed-walks back to the lobby and stops just before he reaches it. Peering in, he checks to make sure the creatures haven’t returned. The coast clear, he tiptoes forward and glances out the windows. No sign.

Staying low, he cuts behind the concierge desk and slips around to the men’s room. This door has a lock on the inside. He makes a mental note, then takes a long drink from the sink, fills his bucket, and heads back to Kat.

When he makes it back to the closet, the boy is awake. His eyes flit to Lucca.

“Who are you?” He scrunches up against the far wall, trembling.

“That’s Lucca. He’s a friend.” Kat holds out her hands like she’s negotiating with terrorists. “He got us some water so we can clean that cut.”

The boy looks down at his bloody stomach. Once again, his eyes roll back in his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t pass out.” Kat scrambles toward him, kneeling down. “Look at me. Just focus on me.”

He turns dazed eyes on Kat, staring as if he’s seeing her for the first time. A small, tremulous smile forms. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kat. Katherine Voss.”

“Kat.” His grin is sudden, unexpected. “Damn. Anyone ever tell you that you got lips like apples?”

She tilts her head, smirking. “I think you’re delirious.”

Lucca stands in the doorway, feeling invisible. Get your own damsel in distress, jackass.

“Here’s that bucket you needed.” Lucca walks in, placing it at her feet.

“Thanks,” she says, dipping the cloth into the water and rubbing the bar of soap on it until it lathers. Approaching him with the cloth, she holds it out, a questioning look on her face. He nods, and she begins to sponge away the blood.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Dev,” he says, wincing and watching her.

“This is a pretty bad cut,” she says. “How’d you get it?”

His face darkens. “Those things.” He looks past Lucca into the dark hall. “They gone?”

Lucca nods. “Tried to come in, but something stopped them. Scared them off.”

Kat nods. “High-pitched frequencies drive away animals. Maybe this hotel has a device like that.”

Lucca leans against the doorframe. “It’d make sense, I guess, as a safety precaution if people are sleeping close to those cages.”

Dev stares at him, openmouthed. “They kept those things caged?”

“Apparently, but they are out right now,” Lucca says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dev winces and looks down at Kat’s skilled hand. “I just keep thinking I’m gonna wake up in my bed. Like any minute, my ma will be calling me for breakfast.” He rubs his eyes, tiredness a mask on his face.

Kat stops sponging his wound to give him a sympathetic smile. “It feels like a nightmare. I woke up in the forest.”

“I woke up in a burlap sack,” Lucca offers.

“Really? Christ,” Dev says, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What do you remember before you woke up?” Lucca asks, sitting on the floor and holding his knees.

Dev presses his thumbs into his eyes. “Man, a whole lotta nothing. I was walking home, and two dudes jumped me. I woke up in hell.”

“Did you wake up in this hotel?” Kat asks.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it. Except I don’t know any hotel that has a basement as messed up as this one.”

Kat leans back. “What do you mean?”

Dev shakes his head, looking even paler. “The room I woke up in… it’s downstairs. It’s… some seriously freaky shit.” He looks at Kat and Lucca. “It bugged me out so bad, I ran clear out and into those beasties. Felt like I was in a horror movie, and I was the next one to get cut.”

Lucca stares into Dev’s face, knowing he’s telling the truth. “What do you mean, horror movie? What’s in the basement, Dev?”

7. Kat

Once, when Kat was little, her uncle thought it would be hilarious to dress like Freddy Krueger from Nightmare on Elm Street and chase her and her cousins home from trick-or-treating. Kat’s cousins, Maya and Kailin, were older and used to his antics. They saw right through his cheap mask and plastic knife-fingers. They screamed and laughed as they ran from the man in red and black stripes, his face melted and pitted. But Kat was five.

“I’m going to get you, Katherine!” he moaned through his plastic mask. Then he took off after the older kids.

Kat doesn’t remember what happened, thank God, but her parents used to tell this story often, a cautionary tale for dinner parties, something along the lines of, “If you think your family is crazy, wait until you hear what Frank did to Kat when she was five.” The way they tell it, Kat took one look at his knife-like fingers and just… stopped. Her body shut down. When her dad tells the story, he says they found Kat in her uncle’s yard, curled up at the base of a tree. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She stared up at her dad as he lifted her into his arms and said, “The nightmares are real.”

Standing at the doorway to the basement, Kat feels that same ice-cold realization steal over her.

The nightmares are real.

“Down there,” Dev says, nodding, keeping one hand on the doorframe like something might reach up and grab him. “Through that door,” he says, holding a fresh towel to the wound on his stomach. The bleeding seems to have stopped, which is good. Kat exhausted her first-aid hacks a while ago.

“What’s down there?” Lucca asks again, drumming his fingers on the wood.

Dev shrugs. “Nightmare shit. I don’t know who runs this joint, but he’s one messed-up mother.” He shivers. “No way I’m going down there again.”

Kat looks at Lucca and Dev. Her fear throbs at her temples, but curiosity keeps urging her forward. “There’s no one down there, right? I don’t want to run into the maniac who runs the nut house.”

Dev shakes his head. “If there was, I’d be back out there with the dogs. You guys want to see so bad, go ahead. I’m gonna lock myself in the closet and wait for you.” He flicks a glance over his shoulder like he wants to be inside one right now.

“Maybe we should take his word for it,” Lucca says, glancing at Kat.

“I’m going down.”

Lucca blows out a breath. Kat can tell he wishes he could head back to the closet with Dev, but he doesn’t want her to go it alone. Quite the gentleman. She has to admit it, Lucca is growing on her.

Kat’s thoughts freeze when they reach the bottom of the stairs. The cavernous, low-ceilinged room looks like a run-of-the-mill basement—cheap beige short-pile carpet, white walls, dusty corners, stacks of folding chairs and long tables with chips out of the Formica, a row of cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other.

He swats away a cobweb, shaking it off his hand. “It is horrible. Look at these cobwebs. Someone better fire the maid.”

Kat’s too nervous to joke. She glances back to where Dev stands at the top of the landing. “What’s the deal, Dev?”

“Head to the far wall. There’s some chairs toppled over. You’ll see the door.” He points with the hand not holding the towel.

Kat scans the walls. There, at the far end, is a stack of folding chairs toppled like a row of knocked-over dominos. She doesn’t see a door. “Let’s go check it out.”

Lucca sighs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a death wish.”

Inspecting the wall, she finds a seam running up the surface. From far away, anyone could dismiss it as a construction flaw. But when she knows what she’s looking for, it’s obvious.

“How do we open it?” she calls up to Dev.

From the top of the stairs, Dev’s voice travels down. “I came from inside the room. I never opened it.” He pauses. “Wait. It’s not open?”

“Should it be?” Lucca asks.

A long pause, and then Dev says, “I didn’t close it, man.”

A sense of unease prickles at her neck. Slowly, Kat turns and locks eyes with Lucca.

“Someone’s been here,” he whispers. “Someone could be here right now.”

“It could’ve shut automatically.”

Lucca gives her an are-you-crazy look. “Do you really want to take that chance? After what we’ve seen?”

He’s right, but a desperate part of her wants to see, wants to unravel this mystery. Why are they here? Who’s doing this? She leaves her trembling hand on the seam of the door.

Lucca tugs her sleeve, taking a step toward the stairs. “This doesn’t feel right, Kat. I have a bad feeling about what’s behind door number one.”

She stares at the water-stained drywall and the seam beneath her hand. She can’t deny it. None of this feels right. Pulling her hand away, she turns to face the stairs. “Maybe we can come back later.”

Lucca sighs, sounding relieved.

A sound from the other side of the wall stops them in their tracks. It’s a low, muffled whimpering. Lucca and Kat lock eyes and rush back to the wall. She presses her ear against the seam.

A child’s moan reaches her. And then a sniffling cry. “Kat? Kat!”

Lucca stares at the wall in shock. “Is someone calling for you?”

The weight of what this means slowly crests over her.

“It’s my little sister!”

8. Lucca

Kat flings herself at the wall and digs at it like a dog.

“Joslyn!” she screams. “Joslyn, I’m coming!”

She picks up a chair, pulls it back, and smashes it into the surface. An ugly dent forms in the drywall.

“Whoa, Kat, hold on,” Lucca says, not knowing what to do. It’s all too awful. Her little sister is here?

“Guys, what’s going on?” Dev calls from the top of the stairs.

Lucca runs to the stairs and bounds up two at a time. Dev clutches the doorframe. “What the hell is happening, dude?”

“It’s her sister. It’s Kat’s sister. We think she’s on the other side of the wall!” Lucca’s words come out in a torrent as he grabs Dev’s arm. “You gotta come.”

Dev pulls back, stiffening. “I told you, I’m not going down there again.”

They hear a crashing sound down below. Kat’s hurling things at the door.

Dev looks down the stairs and back at Lucca. “If there’s a little girl in there, someone put her in there. Someone was in here in between when I woke up, and when I was in the snow.” Dev’s eyes drill into Lucca’s. “Do you know what that means?”

Below, Kat screams, “Joslyn!”

Lucca looks up at Dev with a pleading expression. “Help us.”

A crash. Lucca turns, and when he looks back, Dev’s gone.

Goddamn it.

Lucca runs down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last few. Kat is beating a hole into the drywall with a folding chair. She stops, panting and shaking, the chair in both hands. “I’ve got to get her out.”

“There has to be a better way.” He runs his fingers along the seam, looking for access. When he’s traced one side of the door and over the top to the other side, his finger catches a slight indentation. He moves his fingers around the spot until he feels a click. A small panel opens up to reveal a keypad.

Kat steps over. “We need a code!”

He stares at the numbers. “On TV shows, they use fingerprinting to detect what numbers were last pushed. Not that it’s useful now.”

“Kat!” the small child’s voice moans from the other side of the wall.

Beside him, Kat is a pale white statue. Tears pool in her eyes.

“Hey.” He grabs her arm. “We’ll get in there. Don’t give up.”

She presses a few numbers at random. Lucca tries his birthday, his mom’s birthday, the year the Declaration of Independence was signed. The lit-up keys blink red each time.

Kat pulls him away. “Don’t. It could freeze up after too many failed attempts.”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a step back. “Have we seen any numbers? Do we know any codes?”

Kat shakes her head, wiping away tears. It’s clear she’s trying to hold it together. Lucca doesn’t want to think about how he’d be if his mom were calling from inside a room in a place like this.

“Maybe you can smash the door,” Kat says, looking at the chair she was using as a battering ram.

“Okay. Stand back.” Lucca lifts the chair over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

There’s a click and a hiss. The hidden door in the wall pops open.

Chills run from Lucca’s scalp down to his toes. “How…?”

Kat stares at the open door and the darkness beyond, her chest heaving. Then she launches herself inside.

“Wait!” Lucca runs after her.

It’s very dark, with only a few flickering blue and green lights. Slowly, shapes begin to form. Kat is the dark shadow in front of him. Across from them, a big shape is close to the ground, maybe a table. The space feels much smaller than the room they just left, and there’s a rank aroma like something rotten. Something dead.

“Kat,” he whispers, chills running up and down his arms. “It could be a trap.”

She doesn’t answer him. “Joslyn?”

A wall of TV monitors flashes to life, flooding the room with static and gray light. Images begin to flash on the screens, images of infected wounds, armies marching, giant guns, and nuclear explosions. Buzzards eating roadkill and pulling out stringy red pieces of flesh.

Kat grabs onto Lucca, and he wraps his arm around her.

The images flash faster—a knife, a kid crying, a snarling dog, a bloody hand. Faster and faster. Explosions, killing, blood, death. And a word interspersed over and over. Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.

The images stop. For a moment, the screens go white. Then, in unison, the screens snap together to form a single image—a swatch of dark forest illuminated through a green night-vision filter. In the center, a figure dangles from bound wrists. She twists and sways as the rope creaks. On the ground, twenty feet below, shapes circle and writhe. Yellow eyes blink from the dark as they roam under the crying child. Waiting for their meal.

Kat’s hand flies to her mouth.

A voice booms from overhead, startling them.

“They thought they could take what did not belong to them. They thought there would be no consequences.”

The deep voice shakes the room with its timbre and ferocity.

“They thought they could live like kings. Pharaoh in Egypt thought the same. He believed he could imprison God’s people, make them slaves, and reap the benefits. All he reaped,” the awful voice says, “was sorrow.”

On the screens, the camera zooms in, showing the face of the little girl, still suspended from her wrists.

Kat gasps into her hand. “Oh God.”

The girl’s face is mud-caked and scratched. Trails of tears wind down her dirty cheeks. She searches the darkness, lip trembling. “Kat!”

“Joslyn,” Kat cries, sobbing, shaking. “Oh my God. Let her go!”

“You have one hour,” the voice booms.

The camera pulls back from Joslyn’s face, and the rope suddenly jerks. Joslyn cries out, flailing her legs. As they watch in horror, she’s lowered toward the beasts.

END OF PART ONE

Need more Monster Island?

Part Two is coming out very soon. To find out when, and to receive two free books, please join my mailing list at sign up for my newsletter.

More Books by Katie French

THE BREEDERS SERIES, A YOUNG ADULT DYSTOPIAN ROMANCE

Book 1: The Breeders

Novella - Nessa: A Breeders Story

Book 2: The Believers

Novella - Plan B: A Breeders Story

Book 3: The Benders

Book 4: The Brothers

Novella - Clay: A Breeders Story

Book 5: The Barriers

Eyes Ever to the Sky – A Young Adult Paranormal Romance

MONSTER ISLAND, A YOUNG ADULT ACTION THRILLER

Monster Island – Part One

Monster Island – Parts Two – Five COMING SOON!

Acknowledgements

Since this is a short book, I will write a short acknowledgment. A huge thank you goes out to my team. First to Kimberly Shursen, my first and most diligent reader. You rock. Thank you to the beta readers who gave me great feedback—April Faulkner, Cynthia Csepel, and Meredith Campbell. Thank you to my two editors Lindsey Alexander and Cynthia Shepp. They are amazing women and so smart. Thank you to my cover artist Najla Qamber whose cover gives me tingles. Thanks to all who have supported me now and in the past on this crazy writing adventure. Maybe after seven years it isn’t so crazy after all.

So, until next time, see you in the funny pages.

About the Author

Katie French is an Amazon best-selling author in Young Adult dystopian romance. Her book, The Breeders, has had nearly 50,000 downloads and counting and was a semi-finalist in the 2014 Kindle Book Awards. It's currently free on Amazon. She also has a kids’ series starting with Portia Parrott and the Great Kitten Rescue for ages 5-9.

She works as a high school English teacher, a job that she loves even when it exhausts her. In her free time she writes manically, reads great books, and takes care of her two beautiful and crazy children. She aspires to spend as much time in yoga pants as possible. You can join her mailing list at KatieFrenchBooks.com and receive two free full-length novels. Contact her at katie@katiefrenchbooks.com.