Page 1 of The Missing Half

A sharp twist of underbrush clawed at her knee as she ran past, like fingernails brittle and slicing. She yelped out in pain, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Quiet. She needed to be quiet. But the swampland was deceiving at night, and although she’d passed this place many times, she’d never before been inside. The canopy of trees was dense, consuming the light of the stars, and the air was thick around her, filling her nostrils with a murky, earthy scent.

Solid ground turned to mud beneath her, swallowing her feet. She took a few more blind steps, then she was in the water, its algae-slick surface lapping against her thighs. Just as she yanked her foot free of the sucking mud, the toe of her shoe caught on something—a rock? A branch?—and she lurched forward with a splash, announcing her presence as loudly as a siren.

She looked over her shoulder, but all she saw was black.

She waited, not moving, not breathing.

As she stood motionless in the water, some dark part of her brain not engaged in self-preservation unexpectedly spat out a flash of memory of her and her sister at the lake. Her sister’s face was cracked wide with laughter, their tankinis billowing beneath the water’s surface, both their noses red and peeling. She thought about the way it felt to make her sister smile and realized that even if she was caught tonight, at least she’d lived a life with some small, happy moments.

Then a twig snapped behind her, and there was only one thing she could think.

Run.