Kevin blinked rapidly, trying to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing.

  Yes, inside the hole was a swirl of nebulas floating in a vast, dark space—gaseous shapes in majestic colors, scattered with stars.

  His eyes widened behind his plastic goggles, and the sight hit him so hard he had to pull off his mask to breathe in as much air as he could.

  He turned to his friends.

  “Hey, come check this out…!”

  But when he looked back through the opening, there was nothing but darkness.

  “What’s up, teacher’s pet?” Stevie mocked. “Finding something drove you insane?”

  Kevin said nothing, taking off his safety goggles and tossing them to the ground. He rubbed his eyes and confirmed it: behind the cave wall, there was nothing but darkness.

  Of course! How the hell could he have thought he was seeing outer space behind those rocks? The glare from the lamp hanging nearby must have reflected off his dusty goggles, leaving spots on his retinas that looked like stars—there was no other explanation.

  Shaking off the illusion, he focused on his actual discovery. He held the metal grate under the lamp to examine it better, but the light suddenly dimmed. The generator was running low, but what was strange was that only his lamp had been affected.

  He climbed down the ladder, went over to the other lamps, and again, the same phenomenon.

  “Guys, the power’s almost out. Hurry up,” George called.

  Kevin tried using his phone as a flashlight, but the screen was dead. Apparently, his phone battery—and everything else that produced light here—had lost power.

  Trying not to trip on the rocky ground or get tangled in the cables running from the lamps to the generator, Kevin hurried out of the cave.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Stevie called after him.

  “To camp,” Kevin replied. “I’m getting the gas lantern.”

  “Don’t expect us to pack up your stuff for you! Got it?”

  “Sure, Stevie, whatever.”

  Kevin exited the cave.

  Outside, nature wasn’t offering much light either. In the distance, beyond the forest ahead, the sun had shrunk to a blood-red patch of light smeared across the treetops. The oranges and purples in the sky had darkened, bringing nightfall to the cliff behind him, and overhead, the first stars had begun to appear—real stars this time, not the ones he thought he’d seen in that hole.

  Before crossing the clearing toward the campsite, and out of sheer curiosity, he turned to look up and down the cliff face. In front of him was the entrance to Cave 47-G, and far to his left, high above the ground, Cave 48-G, a shallow opening less than ten feet deep. There was no way the two caves could connect, but…

  No, he’d think about that later.

  He headed to the camp to grab the lantern, but as he passed by the generator, it sputtered like a car with a dead engine and shut off.

  The campsite was plunged into darkness; the woods behind the tent blended into the dusk and twilight. He looked back at the cave; the glow that had been seeping out of the entrance was gone, and he could hear his friends groaning in protest from inside, now at the mercy of the dark.

  Well, Stevie Zar and the others would just have to rely on their flashlights to keep working in there.

  The strange thing was that the generator should have had enough power to keep running for at least another fifty minutes. Unless…

  His discovery.

  First, the cave lamps and his phone, now the generator.

  What if that little metal grate was somehow infused with electromagnetism—or who knows what—that was draining power from anything electric? Maybe that would explain—somehow—the strange illusion of a starry sky he thought he’d seen.

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  A crunch sounded from inside the cave; probably his classmates’ footsteps on the gravel floor. He expected to see them walk out any moment now, so he stepped up to greet them and explain what had happened with the generator.

  But no one came out.

  “Hey!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the cliff walls.

  The crunching sounds continued. And for some reason, an unsettling image crept into his mind: the trapped child’s skeleton crawling out of the cave, moving toward him, dragging its tiny bony feet across the gravel.

  In his imagination, those dusty remains were somehow freeing themselves from the rocky prison, those skeleton arms reaching out, that skull gleaming in the night with empty eye sockets locked onto the metal grate in his hand.

  He shook his head. First the image of outer space, and now this. Was he losing his mind?

  Clutching the grate tightly, he stopped just before stepping back into the cave. A gut feeling told him not to.

  “Hey, Stevie! Haruki!” he called from outside. There was no answer. “George! Eduardo! Chris!?”

  He fell silent. Someone was coming out.

  A shadowy figure stumbled forward, still blurry in the dim light. But then, the dusk and the last traces of daylight revealed who it was. It was Stevie.

  But Stevie’s face was beaten and bloodied, his shirt torn to shreds as if he’d been mauled by a wild animal; his right arm ended in a bloody stump at the elbow, and his leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, as though it had been smashed by something heavy.

  The ground seemed to open up beneath Kevin’s feet. A void yawned in his gut, and the metal grate—his little treasure—slipped from his hands, landing at his feet.

  With a weak moan, Stevie crumpled onto the rocks near the cave entrance, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. Kevin watched as the light in Stevie’s eyes faded, gone forever.

  Stevie Zar was dead.

  What the hell had happened? A cave-in? Impossible; if that had happened, he would’ve heard it and…

  Another figure appeared in the dark mouth of the cave.

  For a second, Kevin thought it was George, but the shape gave it away—someone taller than any of his friends; a thin man with a strange gait, seeming to move without actually lifting his feet.

  Stevie had been murdered, and maybe the others too. And whoever was approaching now was someone outside their group; someone who could only be the killer.

  Part of Kevin wanted to stay and see who it was, but a bomb of terror exploded inside him, like a thousand needles piercing his skin from the inside out. In an instant, he found himself sprinting toward the minivan parked behind the tent.

  He slammed his shoulder into one of the tent poles, flung open the van door, jumped into the driver’s seat, and tried to start the engine. Nothing. He turned the key, pressed the ignition button, but still nothing. The engine was dead, just like the generator had been.

  The rifle! They’d brought a rifle in case of trouble with a wild animal. He groped blindly behind the driver’s seat where they’d stashed it; it was pitch dark, and none of the lights worked. He moved aside the blankets they’d brought for the cold, knocked over toolboxes, and finally grabbed a metal rod, pulling it out of the pile.

  It was only the lug wrench he had taken, not the rifle.

  Crack! Something sounded outside: the tent was shaking. Was it because he’d bumped it, or was the killer getting closer?

  He forgot about the rifle. He bolted out of the minivan, heart pounding in his throat, and ran for the only place he could hide: the forest.

  Kevin plunged into the wild terrain, shouting for help, shielding himself from branches with his arms. He dodged tree roots jutting out of the ground and large stones camouflaged with moss and bushes—until he tripped on one and went tumbling across the grass, ripping his pants and scraping his leg. He didn’t feel any pain; he was too terrified to notice. He scrambled to his feet and kept running.

  Snap! Crack! Crack! Snap! Branches, palms, long, sharp leaves; everything was in his way.

  He looked back to see if he was being followed. No one was there.

  He stopped, panting, a hollow feeling in his stomach, and his throat so raw it hurt just to swallow.

  He scanned the darkness, through the trees and tangled brush; there was nothing but night and thick leaves everywhere. His eyes felt dry and burned, and his forehead—scraped by some sharp branch—was wet with sweat and ice-cold. In his ears, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing and the thumping of his heart.

  This couldn’t be happening. Stevie couldn’t be dead; it had to be a prank. Yeah, a really elaborate prank. It was dark enough in the cave, and that shadow behind Stevie could’ve been Chris, walking on tiptoe; Chris loved pulling this kind of stunt. Maybe they were just trying to get back at him for dragging them out here. Because if there really was a killer, where had he come from? Cave 47-G had no other exit but the entrance, and Kevin hadn’t seen anyone go in while he was studying the…

  The grate! His only bit of excitement in hours, and he’d dropped it somewhere back there.

  He turned around, thinking of going back and telling the guys the game was over. But that same gut feeling that had told him not to go into the cave now warned him this wasn’t a game.

  He needed to contact the authorities. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again, but the screen was still dead. There was a long-range radio back at camp; maybe if he…

  No. It was too dangerous to go back, and besides, who was to say the radio hadn’t failed like the other electronics?

  He needed to get out of the forest. The tropical canyon was remote, and it could be months before anyone set foot here again. His only option was to find the road and hope luck was on his side, and that he’d find a passing car soon.

  Then he heard a noise like crickets rustling the plants—a sound he recognized from the cave, the one he’d mistaken for his friends’ footsteps, the one that had brought the image of the trapped child’s skeleton into his mind. And that sound morphed into… children’s laughter. His fear was driving him insane.

  Something moved in the bushes. He turned and saw the figure of the killer rising from the trees, a dark shadow in the night.

  Kevin Anderson’s scream was swallowed up by the darkness and a wave of humid heat.

  The wild grove, nestled within the cliffs, returned to its usual stillness, now free of intruders.