The darkness swallows me as it did at the start of my shift. Maisy’s screams only get louder. I see what I’m guessing to be her running through the field. I also see the three black blobs closing in on her.

“Maisy—hurry!” I call out, raising the pistol with shaky hands.

I’m not sure how long Maisy has been running, but once she hears my voice, she speeds up, creating space between her and the creeps—space that won’t be there for long.

I’ve never used a gun before. I was too young when my dad died, and my mom didn’t have the skills to teach me. I grew up using blunt weapons, or what my mom’s favorite tactic was: running away. And I did that. Earlier I ran and left someone behind. I refuse to run this time.

After aiming the gun at, or what I hope to be at, the creep gaining more ground than its friends, I squeeze the trigger. The recoil thrusts me off balance, and I stumble back. Recovering, I realize I missed, and the creeps aren’t even bothered.

By the time I ready my second shot, Maisy’s stopped, doubled over in pain next to me. I don’t look at her. I only shout, “Get inside!” before firing the gun.

She disappears under the gate. Even while expecting the recoil, I stumble slightly. I missed again. I don’t have enough time to fire a third shot before the creeps are within twenty feet of me.

All three stop to surround me, the darkness of the night hiding their appearance beyond having a human form. They snarl. They growl. They shake their heads violently. As they slowly circle me, I aim from one to another to the other, my heart racing, my throat dry, my breathing coming in gasps. Each creep strikes out, pretending to lunge. I keep aiming, as if the sight of the weapon is keeping them away. I hope it is. But as the show goes on, I start feeling like the beasts are smiling at me, mocking me, playing with me. They could’ve killed me by now. But they choose to stalk and fake me out.

One of their fake outs gets a little too close for comfort, and my finger bites the trigger. The creep yelps, but not from a wound, from the loud noise. The cry for help seems to set its friends off, and they both lunge. I can’t react quick enough. I throw my hands up and brace for the impact.

Two gunshots go off. I uncover my eyes in time to see the third staring at something else. It growls and looks back at me, then lunges. Before it strikes, I’m grabbed from behind and pulled under the gate.

When I’m inside the camp, the gate falls, landing with a crash that vibrates all the way through the metal.

The creep collides with the barrier. It pants and snarls as it scratches the aluminum. I don’t see who it is, but one of the Lookouts fires a third and final shot, and the beastly noises stop. Every noise stops. I twist and turn as the owners of the hands who grabbed me back away.

“Maisy!” someone cries. Daryl darts from the crowd and into Maisy’s weak embrace. In the torchlight, I can see bloody wounds all over Maisy’s face and arms.

As if she didn’t witness what just went on, Kirsten storms up to me and snatches her pistol, pursing her lips and giving me a hard look I couldn’t care less about. My eyes lock on the brother-sister reunion, until a strong, forceful whap smacks my upper back, followed by, “Holy crap, Jay! You’re a freaking hero!”

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The smack seems to wake me, and that’s when I look around and see all the wide eyes staring back at me.

“Jay.” Caleb walks up to me, but before he says anything else, the crowd erupts into applause, whistles and whooping noises, pumping fists and hollers claiming I ‘saved the day’. Something small runs into me and wraps around my legs, startling me.

Daryl buries his face into my side, sobbing as he says, “Thank you so much.” When he lets go, searching for his sister again, Maisy gives me a gentle look I’m not used to seeing on her face.

“Everyone, quiet!” Caleb calls out. The campers do as their leader demands. “I think it’s time for everyone to return to their tents for the night,” he continues. With that, confused voices whisper, but once again, Caleb silences them. “There were three—three­—creeps out there, and we don’t know if any more are near. It’s best to stay quiet and turn in before our commotion draws more creeps out. It isn’t up for discussion.”

Despite being clearly annoyed, the campers leave, heading back to their tents. It’s a rare day anyone doesn’t listen to Caleb.

With everything happening, I almost don’t notice Kelly breaking off from the crowd to hug someone she thought she’d never see again. The two girls share laughs and tears as Kelly takes Maisy’s hand and kisses it.

I smile.

A hand rests on my shoulder. “You did something really stupid, Jay, and you got lucky. You very well could’ve not.”

I nod, fully aware of the gamble I took, yet also aware I don’t care. As soon as Maisy made it under the gate, I didn’t care if the creeps ripped me apart right then and there. Of course, thinking now, with the rush of adrenaline fading, I can feel my stomach churning. But at that moment, nothing else mattered but Maisy.

Caleb sighs. “Why don’t you go to your tent, Jay? We’ll talk more in the morning.”

I take one last look at the Lookouts’ in their crows’ nests. Saying nothing more, I walk away, past Kelly, Maisy, and Daryl, and into the cluster of tents and campsites.

I hear Caleb suggest taking Maisy to the medical tent before their voices become too distant. Thin trails of smoke rise from recently put out fires, the smell lingering. Most of the lanterns inside tents are still on.

I make it into my tent and zip it up behind me, the thought of sleeping this night away itching my mind. I kick off my boots and strip my jacket, then change my pants, throwing the dirty pair in a corner, before grabbing sweatpants from under my cot and slipping them on.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, my stomach knots. All the thoughts I pushed away come back, and I’m too tired to keep them out.

I stare down at my trembling hands. I’m a hero. I saved the day. But nobody knows the creep left me alive. Nobody knows I had a chance to kill, or at least wound, the thing that took our friend. The creep spared me, and all I did was run.

My trembling hands turn to fists. I’m a coward who got lucky.

I don’t have the right to be a coward. Not in a world like this. We’re all scared. Who says I can run from the things that scare me? No one. I’m a coward who shouldn’t get to act like one.

I frown at the notebook on the ground, before leaning over to pick it up. Since I’ve been here, we’ve lost twenty kids, whether from the creeps, the toxin, illness…There had been more, before I arrived, and I hear the stories of their deaths all the time.

Twenty kids.

I take the pencil and scribble out the tally I drew earlier, then toss the notebook back to the ground. Twenty almost became twenty-two tonight. Maisy got free and survived, but the only free I was, was free-for-the-killing. Twenty shouldn’t have been twenty-two, but it should’ve still been twenty-one.

Leaning over to dim the lantern, I glance at the Teddy bear on my desk. I frown at its missing nose and threaded smile, its matted, faded fur and the loose strings sticking out from their seams. Shaking my head, I stand and snatch it, then lie down on my cot. Tilting the stuffed animal toward the light, I read, in a heart sewn into its chest:

Junior.

Tears form in my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away and lay the only thing I have left of my mom next to me. I stare up, through the mesh ceiling, seeing nothing but stars. The moon’s gone, and the pain sinking my stomach gets worse. The tears come again.

“I never asked for the night shift.”