Clarissa

The griffins started shrieking again as the sun set. Their shrill, whistling cries bounced around the tall trees like creepy songbirds. Ben refused to move while the worst of it was going on. I didn’t blame him.

Outside, the sun cast a vivid orange glow in the sky. It looked like the sky was on fire, which wasn’t ominous at all.

As the sky darkened, the griffins quieted. Then, with the last of light, they fell silent. It was time.

Clutching the tire iron in a white-knuckled grip, I went out first. (I’d lost against Terry in rock paper scissors. But that was fine. This had been my idea.)

The large pipe drained into a break in the trees, which formed a meadow. Across the soggy field, the dark silhouette of a griffin perched on top of a tall pine. As I watched, it bent its head to pick at something meaty clasped in its talons.

Bile rose up in my throat, and I swallowed it back down.

Then I noticed I couldn’t hear any other bird-life around. No harsh scrub jay calls, or the sweet chirp of sparrows. Even the crows weren’t croaking, and usually nothing shut them up.

Had they turned into monsters, too?

Something skittered over dried pine needles. I whipped around with the tire iron raised.

It was only a chipmunk, tail up like a flag. I guess that meant there was still some normal animal life around. And no sign of killer moss, either. Whatever that was supposed to look like.

Overhead, the trees grew thickly together, the branches so intertwined I wasn’t able to see the sky. But I didn’t think anything griffin-sized lurked directly above. Nothing pounced on me.

Slowly, I turned in place to be sure, searching the nearby brush for movement. Nothing.

Well, it was now or never. I lowered the tire iron and nodded.

Terry slid out next, followed by Ben, who held onto the tail of Terry’s shirt.

“We have to cross the road,” Terry whispered.

We climbed the small hill that formed the ditch. An eerie silence hung over the two-lane highway. Cars lay on their sides, or nose-down in the ditch. Most had broken windows, like something had crawled out. Or in.

My stomach did a slow roll as I saw a van with dried brownish blood splattered on an open door. We passed the body of a man, wizened thin, curled in the fetal position, and burned to a crisp.

It looks like a mall mannequin, I thought. His hair isn’t even burned. Just his skin.

Ben stared, too. I snapped out of it and tugged him quickly to the side of the road.

“Stay here,” I whispered. My mom’s sedan wasn’t far off, though it had been shoved closer to the shoulder of the road than when we’d left it. The driver side door was caved in, too. That was new.

Opening the passenger’s side door, I snatched the cell phone and an extra twenty dollar bill my mom kept in the glove box for emergencies.

Feeling exposed, I darted back to Terry and Ben who lingered on the edge of the road. Ben was pale with fright, but Terry brightened at seeing my cell phone.

“You get a signal out here?”

I nodded and gestured for the boys to follow me deeper into the brush before risking the light of the cell.

I called my mom first, but a computerized voice said all networks were busy. Frowning, I dialed 911. It rang and rang without an answer.

I felt Ben’s eyes like a hopeful weight on me. I couldn’t look at him as I lowered the phone from my ear. “It’s not working. Maybe I’ll get a better signal when we’re up on the ridge.”

Though signal wasn’t the problem.

I caught Terry’s gaze. He swallowed and pointed up the hill. “Okay. Should be this way.”

Terry seemed to be right about the griffins hunting in the light. Night fell fast under the trees, and the moon wasn’t out yet. The brightest things around were patches of late spring snow.

The ground grew steadily steeper. It was slow going, and we were forced to make detours around thick underbrush. I mistrusted every deep shadow.

Soon, I was panting. My bottom half had been soaked from the drainage pipe, which made my jeans chafe against the insides of my legs. Despite the cool air, fear sweat trickled down my back and burned against the griffin bite.

Ben sniffled as we walked. He was crying again, and I didn’t blame him. This time last night, I had been working on my make-up biology homework. I’d been safe and had never seen a dead body.

Don’t think about that.

I shut my eyes and shook my head trying to banish the thought—the images of that thin dead man. It didn't work.

Trudging uphill helped keep me warm, though the rapidly cooling air carved into my lungs. Between the branches overhead, the sky was clear and cold. Shivering, I crossed my arms over my chest.

At last, we came to the crest of the ridge. It was mostly bare of trees, and snow lingered in the shadow of rounded boulders. The moon started to rise. Tonight, it looked huge. Like, three times the size I'd ever seen it before. It took up a giant slice of the sky.

What the hell? That wasn't normal, either.

Terry reached the top of the ridge first. He did a slow turn in place, his face slack in surprise. “Oh no.”

Turning away from the eerily gigantic moon, I looked around. In the distance, I saw dark outlines of more hills. And further on, sharp peaks of mountains. It was colder up here, too. The air had an almost crystalline quality.

“What?" I demanded. "Which way do we go?”

Terry didn’t answer for a long moment. “The lake’s that way.” He pointed dead ahead to a patch of inky darkness. “But I should see the lights from the city. Do you see where the airport is?"

“Over there?” I indicated a dim glow nestled between two far mountains.

“No, that’s too far. I’ve been up here before, cross-country skiing,” Terry said. “On a clear night like this, we should be able to see all the way down the mountain range to Carson City.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the plunging temperature crawled up my spine. I looked back at the hazy orange glow. “Maybe the griffins knocked out the electricity.”

“Maybe the griffins ate everybody,” Ben grumbled.

“Don’t be gross,” I said sharply.

But for the first time, I wondered how far-reaching this—Plague? Change?—had been. What if people had changed into monsters as far away as Reno down in Nevada? Or Sacramento to the west? Large cities would get help, first. I’d learned that lesson enough times when big storms struck our mountain town.

Terry had joked about the apocalypse, but I’d always heard California was going to fall into the sea, not... turn into griffins.

What if this was worldwide? And why hadn’t Terry, Ben, or I been effected?

It was too much. Too big to take in.

“Clarissa,” Ben whined, pressing against me. “I’m cold.”

“I know.” I put an arm around his slim shoulders. He was shivering. I looked to Terry. “So, which way’s your house?”

He hesitated. “I don’t really... um.” He looked around for a moment, then pointed. “That way.”

I squinted at him. “How sure are you?” If we went the wrong way in either direction, we could end up lost in the national forest.

Terry smiled a brilliant, confident smile. “I’m sure. Besides, if we get too cold we can all pile under pine needles together and wait out the night.”

The thought of sleeping next to a boy made my stomach do a funny flip. “If we have to,” I said, knowing that my cheeks were burning. “I think we should just cover as much ground as possible.”

Especially if Terry was right and those monsters hunted in the day.

Terry started down the other side of the ridge, but Ben held back.

“How much further, though?” Ben whined. “I’m tired.”

So was I, but I tried to keep upbeat for his sake. “Come on.” Holding my brother’s hand, I started down the rocky slope. “Terry said his house was on the other side of the ridge, right? It won’t be far.”

Please let me be right.