Instead of heading to the left, toward the end of the plaza where the police cruiser sat, Tim went right and swung around the side of the store that formed the head of a T shape at this end of the plaza. He didn't want to be anywhere near this parking lot if someone ended up freezing while they were driving. Truthfully, he didn't much want to be near people who froze while they were walking either. It was creepy. He wanted as many solid walls between him and them as he could get. Bumping the bike over the edge of the driveway and into the grass, he rode along the side of the store and around to the back side. Here, a wide lot with two loading docks sat empty. Tim rode onto the pavement and pedaled hard for home. Whatever was going on, he didn't want to be outside any longer than he had to.

They were almost to the other end when it happened.

Tim could see the street, and the first cross-street which was Jasper. Another few hundred feet and he could maybe see the next cross street and the driveway of his house. He felt Skeet's fingers dig into his ribs and skidded the bike to a stop.

"Did you see that?" Skeet's whisper was a barely a breath against his head, but even that miniscule bit of sound made his body go tense.

Tim nodded his head slowly, not daring to answer on the chance that whatever it was would hear them and come back. Whatever it was. Because it clearly was not human. Tim tried to wrap his head around that as his feet slowly pushed the bike backwards. The tire crunched over a stick and he felt Skeet's body jerk at the same time as his own. Sweat ran down his back.

"Fort."

At first Tim didn't understand Skeet's whisper. He swallowed, waiting to see that gray shape come back into view, this time heading in their direction.

"Fort," Skeet whispered again, and this time it clicked.

He gave a quick nod and angled the front tire toward the trees. This was going to be noisy, but at least they would be heading away from the plaza and that... thing. Skeet's fingers pressed in and Tim's feet hit the pedals, then they were racing into the dirt and brush, between bushes and trees as he pushed the bike as hard as he could. He could feel Skeet turn to look back, but couldn't find the voice to ask it if was coming. He didn't want to know. Escape was all his mind could focus on. He wove between the thicker trees, branches whipping his face and arms. He ducked his head and kept pedaling. The brush opened up as the trail came into view, and Tim swung the bike so hard to the left that they almost wiped out. Skeet had a foot down to help balance them, and with a rush Tim was filled with relief at all the times they'd ridden double. He let the momentum carry them back in line, and then Skeet's foot was up and Tim was pushing it hard again as they ripped down the trail toward the clearing.

They'd found this place when they were in fourth grade and running from a bunch of sixth graders after Skeet had demolished them with a bunch of eggs. The sixth graders had been mad as hornets and when Skeet had jumped on the back of Tim's bike and told him to go-go-go he'd just about wet his pants. Thankfully even with two riders the bike was faster than anyone on foot, and they had quickly outdistanced the group of furious twelve-year-olds. Both of them were nervous but laughing as they headed into the brush, thinking only of getting out of sight. Tim hadn't even known the trail was back there, let alone the clearing. When they broke out into it, rays of light coming down through the tree leaves, it was like finding the lost city of gold. Both boys had breathed out a reverent oh at the sight of the soft grass, thick trees and the wooden structure built into the branches on the other side.

It had definitely been a tree house at one point, but with the way the leaves and vines had grown around it they had known immediately that it had been ages since anyone had used it. Without saying a word they'd gotten off the bike, which they stashed behind one of the thicker bushes, and climbed up to it.

They'd had to rip away the vines on one side to even get in the door, which amazingly had hinges and swung outward just like a real door. Inside, the wood had been preserved by the thick foliage and solid roof, as well as by the fact that the four windows (one on each side) all had working shutters that had been closed up.

It was amazing.

They'd dubbed it "The Fort," and swore to never tell another soul about it. This was their place. Inside those walls it was their time. Nothing could penetrate it.

Now, seeing the clearing come into view Tim felt like no sight had ever been so sweet. Whatever that creature had been, it had surely never seen a treehouse. Hidden inside they would be safe while they figured out what to do.

Tim braked as they reached the soft grass, and before he could even come to a complete stop Skeet was off and running, his grocery bag hanging from one arm and banging against his leg as he raced to the other side and started climbing. Tim looked around, then hid the bike on the left side rather than stashing it too close to the fort. If something did come after them, he didn't want to make it easy for them to be found. Finally, with legs that felt like jelly, he jogged over to the tree with his own grocery bag hanging off his arm. The flour was kind of heavy and the eggs were probably all broken, but he didn't want to leave the stuff on the ground where it could be found. If he had to he could launch it out one of the windows.

He reached the top branch and found the single piece of wood that had been nailed into the trunk as a step, using it to leverage himself up onto the flat deck that ran all the way around the fort. Inside, Skeet had his back in the corner, knees drawn up against his chest. Even with his wicked sunburn he looked pale.

"What the hell was that thing, Tag?"

"I don't know."

Skeet's eyes were wide and the pupils looked huge. "It wasn't human, man."

"No."

"It had no freaking eyes!"

No, only darkened patches of skin where eyes should have been. Yet it had been moving as if it could see just fine. Moving on what he supposed must be legs, but that were mottled gray instead of flesh colored. Moving fast, too. Really fast.

In the distance, a scream echoed, followed by a whump that Tim felt in his teeth. Something big had exploded.

"You saw it, right?" Skeet ignored the sounds, his brain locked on the one thing it couldn't identify or understand.

"Yeah, man. I saw it."

"It came from the direction of the houses, man."

Skeet's words sent ripples of fear up and down Tim's spine.

"What if there were more of them? That thing was in our neighborhood!"

Tim squatted down so that he was right in front of Skeet. He stared at him until he was sure Skeet's eyes were focused on his own.

"Listen, man. We need to keep it together, okay? We're safe here."

"For now-"

"We're safe here!" He tried to be forceful without getting loud. "Probably safer here than at home. Come on, man. I need you to keep it together."

Skeet nodded. "Yeah, right, okay. I'm cool, brah."

Tim gave a half smile. "Cool."

Skeet held up the bag. "I brought provisions."

"Sustenance," Tim played along, relieved to hear Skeet sounding more like himself.

They said the line in unison. "FOOD!"

Tim wasn't hungry though. His stomach balked at the thought of even looking at food right now. He moved to the window that faced the clearing and peeked out from between the slats without opening the shutters.

"Anything?" Skeet asked.

"Nada."

From here, you couldn't even tell that the world had turned completely upside-down.