It started six months ago with the disappearance of Bobbie Klein. For weeks, neighborhood cats and dogs had gone missing. No one could figure out where they had gone. Little Bobbie had a Golden Retriever named King. His friends said Bobbie went looking for King that afternoon when he disappeared. Sheriff Morgan organized a search party. We figured we’d hit the woods that fringed the city park first. Twenty, including Sheriff Morgan, crossed the thicket and vanished before our eyes. His deputy, my older sister Tracy, went, too.

Mayor Brightson got the rest of the Sheriff’s office to block off the woods. She wasted no time and called the governor. Within days, we had federal scientists and military crawling all over the park. They’ve been tight-lipped about anything they’ve learned these six months. Kept most of us away from the place. But, they can’t keep things quiet any longer.

Not now that the voices have started calling us. The voices of Bobbie, Sheriff Morgan, and Tracy. Hundreds of voices.

And they sound angry.

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