The old man was about to disappear into the place below when he froze. Then, in a move that defied every law of biology I knew, his neck rotated a full 180 degrees until his eyes locked directly on mine.
"AAAHHHH"
I couldn't help it—a sharp squeal escaped my lips.
The rest of his body followed suit, spinning around to face me while his legs stayed planted. He let out a screech that sounded like nails on a chalkboard and lunged.
His arms stretched across the ten-foot gap between us, his hands snapping at my shoulders from between the wires of the fence, but I ducked and slipped down the road.
Scrambling to my feet, I bolted for the golf cart he'd left parked nearby. The keys were still in the ignition. Thanking every lucky star I could think of, I turned the key and slammed my foot down.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, my blood ran cold. Everything that was happening now was beyond my understanding.
Marty's body elongated as he ran. I had the cart floored, the speedometer trembling at 40 mph, and he was keeping pace.
"Okay. Creepy old guy coming right for me," I muttered, white-knuckling the steering wheel. "Maybe I wouldn't mind if this went back to being the most boring vacation spot ever."
That's when it got worse. Much worse.
His arms shot forward, stretching like insane rubber bands until his hands caught onto the front bumper. The cart skidded on the spot, engine whining in protest as he started pulling us backward with unbelievable strength.
Panic surged through me. My eyes darted around and found a set of golf clubs on the passenger seat. I grabbed a nine-iron, leaned out the side, and swung with all my strength. The club connected with a sickening thwack.
His arm was severed, and I finally broke free.
But the colors drained from my face. I just wanted to make him let go, not... cut it.
My eyes closed themselves, not wanting to see the bloody scene. though in that last moment, I saw that instead of any blood, bone, or muscle, the inside of his arm was a slimy green goo.
Although that surprised me, a sudden THUMP on the roof gave me an even worse shock, making my eyes wide open again—Marty was on top of the cart.
Coupled with the fact that I didn't have my hands on the steering wheel, the cart swerved, hit the sidewalk, and flipped, sending us flying into a tree.
The world spun.
A moment later, I groaned, my body aching from the impact with a tree. I tried to pull myself up, leaning heavily against the rough bark.
But Marty was faster. His body, which had converted into a green, blobby substance in seconds, reformed back into human shape much quicker than I could recover.
He took a menacing step toward me—then froze. His eyes widened in terror as a lawn sprinkler nearby sprayed water across his arm.
Smoke rose from the spots where the water hit. He let out a terrified, pained screech, clutched his arm, and fled.
I stayed there, slumped against the tree, my whole body aching. The only sound was my ragged breathing and the gentle, mocking tick-tick-tick of the sprinkler.
Adrenaline and blood pulsed through me so hard the veins in my forehead felt like they were about to burst. They throbbed so badly that my whole brain seemed to pound like my heart.
But in the end, just one thought echoed over and over in my pounding head:
-What the hell was that?-
-----
Ben, still dusty and disheveled, paced in front of the floral couch where Gwen and a weary-looking Max were seated. Rio stood quietly by the doorway, arms crossed, listening.
Rio had brought Ben straight to Max to report everything.
Max had been listening for five minutes straight. His face had gone from curious to doubtful to pure exhaustion.
"Let me see if I've got this straight," Max said slowly. "You decided to go for a walk and saw… an old woman who jumped on a wall like a spider, caught a fly with her mouth, and dropped from the ceiling with no problem."
Ben nodded vigorously, his eyes wide. "Yes! And then—"
Max held up a hand. "And then, Vera's neighbor Marty is apparently a monster who can spin his head around and stretch his body like rubber."
"Not rubber!" Ben insisted, his voice cracking. "It was like... slimy green goo! I hit his arm with a golf club, and it splattered! And when the sprinkler hit him, he started smoking! I swear, it was like acid splattered on him!"
Gwen couldn't take it anymore and finally spoke, her tone walking the fine line between pity and disbelief. She didn't always want to be against Ben, but he made it so hard. He came up with the wildest stories, and with his track record for trouble, it was difficult to take him seriously.
"Ben… maybe you just, I don't know, just stole the golf cart, crashed, and hit your head?"
"And now you wanna shift the blame to an imaginary creature."
"I didn't fall—I was thrown!" Ben's voice pitched even higher. "And I didn't hit my head! Rio, come on, you believe me, right?"
All eyes turned to Rio. In return, he looked at Ben's desperate, sincere face, then at Max's tired but concerned expression. and finally at Gwen's frown, which clearly said she didn't buy a word of it.
He took a breath. "We've already seen one strange thing this summer, so the line between possible and impossible is still not clear."
-------
A long, low whine tore from the rusty hinges as the gate was pushed inward.
"Hello? Marty? Anyone home?" a voice called into the stillness.
It was Max and the group who arrived at Marty's house to investigate.
When no answer came after a long moment, Max turned. He brought a finger to his lips, signaling the kids behind him to be silent.
The sky outside was dim as the sun slowly set in the horizon casting a dim orange red glow.
With a careful shove, the gate swung wide. Max stepped into the property first, his movements cautious and deliberate. Ben crowded close behind, peering over his grandfather's shoulder, while Gwen and Rio filed in last, their eyes scanning the overgrown yard.
They flooded into the dim house, the door groaning as they entered.
The interior was swallowed by darkness, every curtain drawn, with no lights on. And what greeted them was just the persistent, rhythmic click... Click... click... of a mechanical clock from somewhere deeper in the house.
The group inched forward, their eyes trying to figure out the situation inside.
As they moved past a side table, the glass surface of an ornate grandfather clock reflected their own tense, searching faces back at them.
[Gasp!]
The sharp, sudden sound made everyone jump. It was Gwen, who had clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes fixed on a dark, man-like shape looming in the corner.
Before anyone could react, a gust of wind from an open window billowed the curtains and made the shape flutter.
Turns out it was just a long coat hanging on a stand.
A collective, shaky sigh of relief passed through the group.
"Gwen, it's just a coat," said Rio. His hand fumbling along the wall until he found the switch.
Click.
A single, dusty overhead light flickered on, revealing an ordinary place—old furniture, half-read magazines, a few dishes left in the sink.
Grandpa Max finally let his shoulders relax as his gaze finished scanning the whole room. "Well," he declared. "Nothing here seems out of whack."
A reminiscing smile appeared on his face as his eyes continued to wander. He was thinking about his time spent as a plumber, doing these types of infiltration missions.
But his reminisce was soon broken.
"Except for what he rolled up in his rug," Ben interjected from near the sofa. He was pointing down at the floor. "Which was right here."
All eyes followed his finger. The dusty wooden floor showed a perfect, clean rectangle where a rug had clearly been recently removed.
Max's nostalgic smile vanished. His eyes narrowed as he looked from the clean patch to Ben's earnest face.