Page 2 of The Haunting of the Mountain

“Festival? I’m sure that’s just code for a ritual sacrifice for the new girls in town. Check if there’s a full moon toni—Oh, hi, Officer,” Nell coos, shifting seamlessly into a saccharine tone as she rolls down the window.

“Howdy,” he says, bending down low to look through the window. A few bits of straw fall out of his sleeve and into Nell’s lap.

“Sorry about that,” he says, taking them from Nell’s hand and shoving them back into his sleeve.

“Oh, no problem,” Nell says in a voice that screams we very much have a problem. “Wha-what’s going on here?”

Nell clears her throat. I clear my throat. My grip on her leg tightens unintentionally as I try to shove Nell’s unfounded conspiracy out of my head. There’s nothing sinister about this town!

“Road’s closed for the Great Harvest Festival.”

Nell slides her hand off the steering wheel and takes mine into a death grip. “Great Harvest Festival?” she squeaks.

The officer nods.

“What are—what are you… Harvesting?” she croaks.

Don’t say virgins. Don’t say virgins.

DO. NOT. SAY. VIRGINS.

I glance around nervously, hoping some nice mountain man might help me out before?—

“Apples and pumpkins. Some corn and wheat.”

Phew.

He clicks his tongue and then lowers his sunglasses down his nose, painted red with ochre. “New to town?”

“Nope. Not at all, Officer.”

My eyes flare. My pulse accelerates. And now it’s my turn to squeeze the hell out of her hand. What is she doing?!

“Well, I am,” the officer says, loosening up. “My first festival. Is it as fun as it looks?”

“Yes,” both of us answer in unison.

He makes a throaty noise and then taps on the frame of the window. “Well, cars are lining up and I don’t want to take more of your time. Actually,” he says, bending down low again and taking a long hard look at us. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The officer walks away and immediately Nell reaches for the shifter but I stop her. “Don’t. Do it.”

“We need to get out of here, Kyla. Harvest Festival? Are you kidding me? That’s just code for—Hiiiiii,” she coos in that same voice as the officer returns.

“A few parting gifts,” he says, handing over two paper cups of a heavenly-smelling liquid and… what thehellare those?

“Corn dolls. Handmade,” he says.

It looks like someone wrapped a crucifix with cornhusks and twine to make a makeshift human body. There’s a dress. “Hair.” And a face that’s composed of two black dots and a shaky smile that the Joker would be jealous of.

“By my daughter,” he adds. “And that’s some of the best apple cider around. Damn fine. Pardon my language.”

“N-no problem at all, officer. Thanks,” Nell says.

“Cute,” I squeak, patting the “doll” as I try not to cringe. “Tell her thanks.”

He nods. “You can make a U-turn there,” the officer says, pointing. “There’s some parking on 5thand 6thStreet last I heard.”

As soon as the officer leaves, Nell makes a U-turn and I consider chucking the corn dolls out the window but Nell’s the one to stop me this time.

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