Vacations from Hell

I was hustling back to the inn through the downpour when I saw the girl in the forest again. This time she stood, palms out. She was pale, with deep shadows around her eyes, and slime all over her long skirts, like she’d skidded down a hill or something.



“Hello?” I called. “Are you okay?”



She didn’t answer, so I moved closer. I was right against the edge of the stone circle. “Do you need help?” I asked slowly, like an idiot, thinking that would help with the language barrier.



She pointed to my loaf of bread.



“You want…this? Are you hungry?”



She opened her mouth like a scream, and the trees shook with a thousand whispers that made my neck hair rise. I felt a hand gripping my arm. It was the old woman who had let us in at the gate. Her expression was angry, and she unleashed a torrent of language, all guttural vowels and unfamiliar consonants that made me dizzy.



“I don’t understand!” I shouted over the rain.



“Devil,” she said, using her only other English word. She flicked her glance toward the forest. No one was there. But I knew I’d seen that girl.



The church bell tolled loudly. In a few seconds many of the villagers, including the tavern keeper, Mariana’s mother, and the two men who had been sitting in the bakery, bustled up the hill to the church. They gave me wary glances on the way. None of the children were with them.



“Where did she go?” I asked the old woman. “The girl. Did you see her?”



“Devil,” she said again, and hurried to the church with the others. She opened the door, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that flash of red again. Red robe, my brain said. But it was fast, and I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t be sure of anything except that I wished Mariana, Vasul, and the rest would hurry back. The old-timers gave me the creeps.



When I got back to the room, I was soaked to the skin, the loaf of bread was inedible, and the others were lying around on the beds and chairs staring off into space. None of our cell phones could get reception here, and it’s not like there was an Internet café within a hundred miles. After a full day trapped in our room without so much as a YouTube video to break things up, we were approaching lethal boredom.



“I’m having Internet withdrawal,” John said. He was splayed out on the bed balancing the evil-eye pendant he’d bought at the train station on his nose. “Like, seriously, if I can’t log on and IM someone—anyone—I’ll go insane.”



Isabel took out her phone and pretended to text him. “J, OMG, where T F R U?” she chirped in text-speak.



“N hell,” John answered back, his thumbs moving in the air. “U?”



“Hell 4 sure. Want BK fries. No garlic.”



John laughed, then stopped. “I mean, ROTFLMAO.”



I told them about my weird encounter with the girl in the forest and how I’d seen her twice now. I told them about how the old woman who guarded the gate had referred to the forest as “devil.”



“I think we should do a creepy field trip to the forest,” John said.



The others were on it immediately.



“You guys, what if there are, like, bear traps and poisonous snakes or malevolent, human-flesh-eating reindeer in the forest? Or worse? We could stumble onto a Jonas Brothers appreciation festival.” I shuddered for effect.



“Or Beelzebub,” Baz said. “The dark lord having a kegger.”



“I think we should stay put,” I answered.



With a sigh Isabel picked up her phone and pretended to text John. “OMG, J. So f’ing bored. BTW, Poe sux.” She glanced at me.



John moved his fingers very deliberately. “Word.”



I couldn’t take it anymore. I was as pent up and fourteenth-century cabin-crazed as the rest of them. “All right. Creepy field trip. Tomorrow we go to the forest.”



The three of them threw their arms around me, and we collapsed on one of the beds, chanting, “Cree-py field trip! Cree-py field trip! Cree-py field trip!”



There was a loud crack, and I was afraid we’d broken the ugly bed. “Dude,” John said, holding the shards of his now broken evil-eye pendant. “I’m a marked man.” Then he laughed.



The next morning, when the rain had died down to a light patter, we grabbed our flashlights and some fresh bread in case we got hungry.



“Should we take this?” Isabel asked. “I thought that was forbidden.”



“You don’t go on a trip without food. Didn’t you read about the Donner Party?” Baz joked.



Isabel looked uncomfortable. “Still…”