Asher crouches, tightening his grasp on the baseball bat.

“Did you hear it too?” he whispers over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it sounded like it was coming from the left up ahead,” Wendy whispers back, her hand resting on the pistol in her side holster.

Asher takes quiet steps forward through the fallen leaves and sticks, his green eyes searching through the trees for a sign of movement. He counts to thirty, hairs prickling up the back of his neck and his heart thumping. A bead of s. . .