Alexis’s mouth drops open.
“Holy shit.” I stumble backward, staring. Something moves deep in Alexis’s throat. It twitches in the darkness, and a tiny, hairy leg stretches over her teeth.
The cockroach crawls across Alexis’s tongue and spills onto her chest. A second clings to the roof of her mouth, antennae twitching. It watches me with glassy black eyes.
Dozens of cockroaches pour out of her mouth and scurry down her body. They nestle into the charred remains of her clothes and dig into her blond hair. A few burrow into her ears. They crawl on top of one another, gushing out of Alexis’s nose and mouth and cracks in her skull. An antenna appears in the tissue of her cheek as a cockroach digs through the remaining rotten, weak flesh on her face.
The clicking grows until it’s too loud for me to hear anything else. A cockroach creeps over Alexis’s burned stub of a chin and hisses. Tissue-thin wings unfold from its back.
I scream until my throat goes raw. I back away from Alexis, trip over a pillow, and drop to my knees. The cockroaches multiply, blanketing the bed. They drip onto the floor in a brown scaly mass. I try to push myself away, but I’m too late. Cockroaches skitter up my fingers and legs. Their tiny legs dig into my arms. They plow into my hair and slip below my clothes. One crawls along the neck of my T-shirt, then falls into my bra, antennae twitching against my skin. Another creeps along the side of my face and hisses in my ear.
I push myself to my feet and race for the door. The floor lamp flickers, sending two-foot-long shadows of cockroaches over the walls. I glance over my shoulder. The insects climb over the lampshade, wings fluttering. They’re everywhere now: crawling up the walls and covering the floor. A thick layer of roaches swarms the window, blocking out the moonlight.
I rip the door open and race into the hallway, slamming it behind me. Cockroaches click and hiss behind the wood, and I see their flickering shadows in the inch of space between the door and the carpet. I back up against the opposite wall. My skin itches. I feel them crawling over my body, slipping down my T-shirt, clinging to the back of my neck. I swat at my arms and legs, but my hands come away clean. I close my eyes, exhaling, and collapse against the wall.
Something drips onto my nose. My eyes shoot back open.
The ceiling swells with blood. Thick, tacky drops trickle down on me, coating my hair and shoulders, speckling my face. I push myself away from the wall, and my boots slip on the blood splattered across the hallway as I run for the stairs. I grab the banister to steady myself. A cockroach crawls over my fingers and I scream, shaking it off.
The air moves behind me, and the clicking, hissing cockroaches fall silent. All the hair on the back of my neck sticks straight up.
Someone’s there, in the hallway. I can feel her. I imagine Alexis climbing out of Riley’s bed, sooty, ashy skin crumbling from her face with every step she takes.
I don’t look back over my shoulder. I don’t want to know if I’m right.
I take the steps to the first floor two at a time. The ceiling rains blood, and swarms of cockroaches crawl over my rubber boots. The weight of the staircase shifts beneath my feet. I feel that thing behind me, feel it closing in, reaching its raw, burning red hands out to grab me.
I leap down the last three steps and stumble into the foyer, landing on all fours. Glass shards wedge into my knees and bite the palms of my hands. I push myself back to my feet and scramble out the front door, onto the porch.
The sky still burns with eerie light, like it’s on fire. It’s demon light. The devil’s light.
I don’t stop running until I reach the curb, and then I collapse against Riley’s mailbox, panting for breath. I glance back at the house, steeling myself for what’s about to burst through the front door.
But the house just sits there silently, its windows dark. Blood doesn’t ooze beneath the front door; cockroaches don’t swarm the porch. The perfectly trimmed bushes rustle in the stale air, then go still.
As I run from the house, the curtain at Riley’s window flutters, like it’s saying goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I stumble through Riley’s neighborhood, lost as to what to do next. Every towering house lining the street looks exactly like the one next to it, and I picture that each one is filled with the same horrors. I wrap my arms around my chest, trying not to shiver. I still have to find Riley. If that’s what Brooklyn did to her house, I can’t imagine what she has in mind for Riley herself.
Helplessness washes over me. I crouch on the street curb and lower my chin to my hands, trying to keep myself calm. I don’t know Riley well enough to know where she’d go instead of home. To Josh’s place, maybe? But no, Alexis said they broke up. My throat tightens as I realize that all of Riley’s other friends are dead.
I lean forward, and something in my pocket crunches. I cringe, thinking of the cockroaches. I reach into my pocket and pull out a crumpled piece of paper.
It’s the photograph of Riley and her friends at the lake house. I consider it for a long moment. Alexis wears a white bikini, her smooth, perfect skin tanned to a deep golden brown. Riley sits next to her, her hair tied back with a silk scarf. They all look so perfect. Like people from a magazine.
Riley said she went to the lake house when she wanted to be alone. It’s near Lake Whitney, half an hour away by car. Too far to walk. I need a ride.
I consider trying to take Mom’s car, then dismiss the idea almost immediately. With the paramedics and Grace’s body, our driveway is probably still a mob scene.
I slip my cell phone out of my sweatshirt pocket, quickly pulling up Charlie’s number. I picture Charlie’s bright red truck, and my thumb hovers nervously over the screen.
Finally, I work up the nerve to send him a text: can u pick me up? its an emergency.
I give him Riley’s address and hit send. Then I wait. Less than a minute later, the phone vibrates in my hand.
Be there in 10.
I weave my hands together anxiously. Every passing second feels like the difference between saving Riley’s life and letting her die.
“Hurry,” I whisper under my breath. I slip the phone into my pocket and walk to the porch. I tug my sweatshirt over my hands and crouch on the top step, drawing my knees up to my chest.
Luckily, it doesn’t take ten minutes for Charlie’s red truck to roll down the street and slow to a stop in front of Riley’s house. Charlie throws the door open and jumps out without cutting the engine. He’s wearing faded jeans and a sweatshirt, and his hair sticks up in all directions.
“Sofia? What is it? Are you okay?” He stops in front of me and reaches for my shoulder, but I immediately pull away. I feel dirty, like all the horrors of this weekend are streaked across my face. Like he’ll know what I’ve done just by looking at me.
“I need to borrow your car.”
“What?” Charlie frowns, and the dimple disappears from his cheek.
“It’s a long story. But I need to go somewhere. Now.”
He leans in and kisses me on the forehead. Just a couple of days ago this would have made my stomach flip, but now it feels like something I’ve stolen. I don’t deserve a guy like Charlie.
“You can tell me the long story on the drive,” he says. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
I start to shake my head before he’s even finished speaking. Hurt flashes across his face.
“Look,” I say. “You can’t come. I can’t explain why right now, but you just . . . you can’t.”
Charlie’s frown deepens. “Sofia, if you’re in some kind of trouble, I want to help.”
“You can’t.” This comes out sounding more frantic than I intend for it to, but I can’t help it. I’m running out of time. “Charlie, you’re a really nice guy, but you’re better off without me.”