Southern Cross Read Online Free PDF Page B

them.”
    “They’re
in the shed out back,” George said. “Hang on, let me get ‘em.” He started to
haul himself out of his chair, but I shook my head.
    “Stay
where you are, George. I’ll get them. Just tell me where.”
     
    Two
minutes later, I was outside in the fresh air again, grateful for the reprieve.
It was almost midnight, the woods an eerie cobalt blue under a clouded sky.
When I was with Ashley, I used to sit on the front porch out here with George,
drinking until we were blurry with the booze, talking life, philosophy, music,
women… Anything I could come up with to avoid going home. Whatever George might
have to say about his daughter, she sure as hell had deserved better than I’d
ever given her.
    I hoped
she had that now.
    I
could hear them laughing inside the cabin. Solomon wasn’t much of a drinker
usually, and George’s homemade whiskey wasn’t the best time to make an
exception to that rule. She’d stood by and watched me get blackout drunk enough
times that I wasn’t about to tell her when to quit, though. She—
    I
stopped, caught by a sound I couldn’t identify behind me. The ground was too
soft for footsteps, but there was… something. Movement. Or I thought there was.
I flashed back to the summer before with Solomon and fought the urge to run
back inside. There were a whole host of night creatures that could be moving
out here about now. I wasn’t being hunted anymore.
    Probably.
    George’s
shed was behind the cabin, sheltered by a grove of trees and all but invisible
to the outside world. I slipped the latch and opened the door, shining a
flashlight George had given me. The shed was maybe 12x18, barely big enough to
walk around in, with tools hung neatly on pegboard on one wall and shelving
built along the others. A single, rectangular window was positioned on the
opposite wall, about six feet up—too high to see anything, but adequate if you
needed a little light. When there was light to be had, of course.
    I
spotted a dozen photo albums lined up on one of the shelves, and stepped
inside. It smelled of sawdust and cigar smoke, two of George’s favorite things.
I grabbed a couple of the photo albums without checking the dates on the spines
and strode back across the shed toward freedom. Since the caves and tunnels of
the previous summer, enclosed spaces weren’t a favorite of mine. Something
clattered against the outside wall. I whirled toward the sound, heart racing.
    “Solomon?
Is that you?”
    I
turned back around just in time to watch the door swing shut.
    “Buddy?
All right… Good one, guys. You’re friggin’ hilarious.” I reached for the door
and tried to push it open. It didn’t budge.
    Something
scratched against the outside of the shed, just below the window—like someone
was scaling the wall. The clattering could have been a ladder, I realized. And
this was George’s idea of a practical joke: his way of welcoming me back to the
fold. I wet my lips and reminded myself that panicking at this point was
exactly the kind of story that would follow me to my grave, once the lights
came on and the idiots pulling the prank were revealed.
    Better
to play it cool. Ride it out.
    “All
right, you got me,” I said. “I’m trapped in the shed. In the dark. You guys are
comic geniuses.”
    Something
scratched against the windowpane. I trained my flashlight beam in that
direction, but all that did was reflect the light back at me.
    I
realized then that there was no way Solomon was behind this—she knew too well
what we’d gone through six months ago. And she wouldn’t let the others do
anything like it, either. Sweat beaded on my forehead and the back of my neck.
Just outside the window, I heard a faint rattling sound.
    “Harvey?” I said quietly. If Sheriff Jennings had found out I was back in town, this might
be the kind of thing he’d pull to welcome me back. “Is that you?”
    The
rattling got louder.
    I
pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket and hit