M. K. Krys - This Town Is a Nightmare

Beacon dropped his skateboard onto the cracked New York City sidewalk and pushed off. He weaved through the crowds, past brownstones and steel skyscrapers, churches and theaters and police stations. Cars zoomed past on the street. Horns honked and people yelled out cuss words. Chilly air blew across his face, carrying the scent of hot dogs and fresh-poured concrete.

Beacon loved this board. He relished the rise and fall of the path under his wheels. He lived for the speed, came alive when he sailed past commuters and sliced across roadways. It didnt matter where he was when he was on his board. He was home.

He whizzed around a busy street corner and saw a flash of white-blond curls standing at a set of traffic lights. His heart lodged in his chest. Jane Middleton couldnt be here, in New York City... right?

He looked back, searching for Jane. But the girl had vanished. If shed ever been there to begin with.

Beacon had become a paranoid mess ever since his family had gone on the run from the Sov. Every scritch behind him was a predator; every blond-haired girl was his enemy ready to take him down. He was getting really sick of the constant fear, but unfortunately, it didnt seem to be going anywhere.

Hey, watch it!

Beacon turned back around just in time to avoid slamming into a construction worker. He jerked out of the way and stumbled off his board, rolling onto the concrete. The sidewalk traffic flowed around him as if he were just a lamppost and not an injured twelve-year-old boy.

Im okay, nobody panic, Beacon muttered. He pushed himself up and wiped off his jeans.

And found the exact place hed been looking for.

The flashing neon sign across the street announced Eds Fast Cash Pawnshop. There were about eight dollar symbols on the sign, which was what propelled Beacon to pick up his board and cross the street, even though his stomach felt like it was filled with slippery eels.

As Beacon got closer to the shop, he saw a homeless man and his dog sitting in front of the building. The massive chocolate Lab leaped like a puppy when Beacon approached. It pushed its body into Beacons legs, nearly toppling him with his eagerness to be petted. Beacon obliged, laughing as the dogs tail spun like a windmill.

Cute dog. Whats his name? Beacon asked.

The man looked up from under the dark hood he wore low over his face. Beacon suppressed a gasp. It wasnt a man, but a kid not much older than him. His face was covered in patches of freckles, and his wild mane of blond hair hung over hard blue eyes. The maroon T-shirt he wore under his unzipped sweatshirt hung loosely on his thin frame.

The kid stared at him contemptuously.

Hes really cute, Beacon tried again. Hes a Lab, right?

The boy said nothing.

Good talk, Beacon muttered. He withdrew his hand and entered the pawnshop. The bell over the door jingled as he walked inside.

The place was dank and musty. Every inch of its cluttered shelves was filled with toasters and ironing boards, Xboxes and power tools and gaudy gold jewelry under smudged glass.

He approached the front counter, where a woman with a jam stain on her smock was watching a news report about unprecedented hurricanes blowing across the East Coast. Beacon pushed down the panic he always felt anytime he accidently caught one of these news reports and cleared his throat. The woman sighed heavily and looked over at him.

Um, hi. Im here to sell this. Beacon hefted his skateboard.

He felt his throat get tight, and he swallowed hard. He couldnt be a baby about this. His family needed money. It would be selfish and stupid to hang on to a Habitat skateboard worth hundreds of dollars when he could sell it and use the money to buy groceries for weeks.

After narrowly escaping Driftwood Harbor, Beacon, his twin sister, Everleigh, their dad, and Beacons new friend Arthur, had driven straight to New York City, an eight-hour drive down the interstate from the fishing village. Theyd planned to take out all of his dads savings at the bank, switch out the stolen Mercury Cougar for something less likely to get them all arrested for grand theft auto, then hit the road again. But his dads bank account had been frozen. Theyd had no money for gas or food or... anything. So they were stuck here, what felt like a stones throw away from the town theyd discovered was controlled by shape-shifting aliens.

Put that here, the woman said, slapping the counter.

Beacon slid his skateboard onto the counter. Hed gotten it for his eighth birthday. Hed received a handful of newer skateboards since then, but this one was his favorite. So when theyd moved from LA to Driftwood Harbor and he could only take his most important possessions, this had been the only skateboard hed kept.

Now he would have none.

Ill give you twenty bucks for it, the woman said.

What?! Beacon cried. This board costs over three hundred dollars brand new!

Twenty bucks, take it or leave it. The woman went back to watching the news. Beacon ground his teeth.

Five minutes later, he was shuffling down the street with a twenty-dollar bill in his pocket.

Beacon walked. And walked, and walked, and walked. Soon, he was home.

A siren wailed as he stared up at the derelict apartment building.

He couldnt believe hed once scoffed at staying at Blackwater Lookout Bed-and-Breakfast. The inn practically looked like the Four Seasons Hotel compared to this place. Graffiti covered the crumbling brick facade. The windows that werent broken out entirely were covered in grime and had sheets for curtains. Scary-looking men smoked on the stoop out front, and Beacon didnt think they were smoking cigarettes.