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We leaned against the metal railing overlooking the stage and scanned the beach for a good spot to sit. Spotting one, we broke through the perimeter of the swaying crowd, plopped down onto an unclaimed woven blanket, and burrowed our toes in the cool velvet sand.

I attempted to calm my fretting nerves by belting out the lyrics to some popular nineties song, letting the music sweep the incidents of the night from my mind—but in between the long breathes a chill ran over my spine, and unease broke the cracks of my forced excitement.

This wasn’t the first fight I’d had with the Voices, so I didn’t know why this one shook me so much. Maybe it was because time and space had also glitched…but had it? Or had I just imagined that? I couldn’t say for sure—the hard line of reality was always a little blurry for me.

Grooved rings indented my skin, interrupting my anxieties before they tossed me into a pit of distress I couldn’t climb out of. Javi’s palm layered the back of my hand, fingers weaving through mine. He squeezed lightly. “Do you know what time it is?”

My nose crinkled. “Midnight, I presume?”

Chuckling as if I’d said the cutest, most endearing thing in the world, his dark brown eyes lit up like fireworks. Drawing in closer, he whispered, “Happy birthday.”

He draped his arm around my shoulders, and I tilted my head so it tucked under his chin. For a second, the rush of blood was the only thing that filled my ears, racing as fast as my heart. It was just a hug—just a birthday wish. One I hadn’t acknowledged yet because I was too caught up in my own head.

“Thanks,” I whispered back, never wanting to let go of my best friend.

Chapter 5

Pebbles and splintered seashells crunched beneath my feet as I hopped on my cruiser and biked away from Grad Night. Bits caught on my tire’s rubber spikes as I pedaled along the trail that lay sandwiched between the old rail line, just beyond the Boardwalk’s reach.

Using the chirp of the insects as my instrumentals and the click of the gears as my beat, I hummed a tune from a night that already felt so distant, as if the entire evening had been one out-of-body experience.

My knuckles strained against the handlebars, and for a second I imagined Javi’s resting there, too. I replayed our goodbye from fifteen minutes ago: his fingers threading between mine, his lips brushing my cheek, his happy birthday whisper in my ear…I released a slow breath, but it did nothing to ease the tension in my chest.

To be honest, it was totally unclear what I should do about this divergence from our friendship, which felt as off the rails as the uprooted train tracks I passed.

Our future stopped in August when he blossomed, and I remained. We had less than two months left before he’d split for SB. I didn’t want to sabotage it.

At least I wasn’t alone in being tortured by this. Judging by the glint in his eyes, the crumple of his forehead, the way his shoulders sagged when I declined his invite to walk me home…he definitely felt it, too. The question remained: should we say goodbye, or should we give in to this—whatever this was?

My sigh clouded in front of me, mixing with the damp thickets of fog. It ushered the earth behind its misty curtain, devouring the streetlights and singing crickets. Soon the wimpy glow from my front basket’s headlamp was the only shine left to indicate if I hurtled towards home or off a cliff.

Pretty standard for a late-night trek near the sea, but tonight it was suffocating, like slogging through quicksand. I hopped off my cruiser, towing it next to me as I waded through the sphere of gray. Its tendrils were as thick as a wall, hardly parting for my legs, devouring my footsteps. A shiver rippled down my spine.

Up ahead, an oblique shape parted the fog. I concentrated on its outline while my light bounced off its surface, and a rectangle that was placed vertically solidified out of the haze. Peeled black-and-red paint, the only imprints left of an old warning sign, came into focus, the words Stop! Turn Back! No Foot Path! popping against the grain.

The San Lorenzo River truss had been out of commission for years. It had been a popular crossing for the east and west sides of town until the decayed floorboards and exposed metal hinges forced its shutdown. Rumors that the ousted members of an old blood-drinking cult that was prevalent here in the eighties shuffled across the planks, waiting for fresh meat like a horde of zombies, didn’t make it sound any less sketchy.

But I needed a straight shot home, and this saved me about twenty minutes.

Plus, I’d taken it plenty of times before, just not in the middle of the night. Not when the fog was this thick. Not when my anxiety made me mistake the swirls for more sinister things—nope.

I swallowed the fear that lodged in my throat and stepped onto the corroded platform.

The outline of its steel frames arched like the roof of a chapel, nails so big they looked like scarab beetles crawling up and down the pillars. Avoiding all the sharp ledges and eroded strips of wood became a twisted game. My bike thumped alongside me, dragging along the wet lumber, growing heavier with every push.

Something stirred ahead—or was it the dampness I cut through, creasing and drawing back in again? I slowed to a halt and listened while the moisture clung to my body.

Armed with nothing but my flickering LED bike lamp and cell phone, I held down the flashlight button until it turned on and shone towards the nearest support beam. A hermit crab skittered out of sight.

I swore, hoping that damn crustacean would be my first and last encounter on this trestle.

One by one, my hairs stood on end as the fog grew more restless—I swore it whispered my name—swore it cackled in my ear, and beckoned me deeper, and tricked me into thinking I was seeing things. My muscles tightened, bracing for the onslaught of Voices.

But none of the sounds or shapes or smells manifested into a version that hijacked my brain. None of the Voices rose out of the evening acoustics to haunt me. Which might’ve been weird, but frankly, I was too drained to care where they were.

Then a shadow a shade darker than the rest of the trestle dropped from overhead. It cut the mist like a knife, emerging a few tracks away, with a stillness that asserted predator versus prey. I think my heart completely stopped before stuttering back to life at double time.

I swore to God if it was Chet, I might push him off. My fingers tingled with adrenaline.