Page 37 of The Vanishing Place

The next week, back at the hut, Effie woke to the sound of rain and Aiden’s wheezing.

Her brother’s breathing was getting worse.

Louder and more labored. Like a fish gulping for air.

He had gone to bed early the day before, feeling a little sore, he’d said.

His face had been a bit sunken too, his cheeks sort of scooped out and his skin grayish.

But something was real wrong with him that morning.

“Aiden?” Effie placed a hand on his clammy forehead.

Something real bad.