that there were five men on motorcycles and two women in the van that followed them in. The men wore grubby denims and leather vests with patches on the back that read in Gothic lettering:
The women threw open the rear doors of the van and set out coolers of beer and bottles of liquor. Music began to boom from speakers in the van’s rear doors. The men scattered around the campground, gathering firewood, and in a short time they were standing around a bonfire that blazed flames as high as their heads, lighting up half the campground.
Sarah Jean watched it all from the car. She saw the Demons riding in, gawking at Missy straddlingWallace as they kissed at the picnic table. The first rider in the pack pulled in just a few camp spots from Missy and Wallace and the Grand Am, and the others followed. Sarah Jean didn’t like having the bikers parked so close to them when nearly the entire campground was empty. It seemed to bother Wallace too. He lifted Missy off his hips and stood, took her by the arm, and tried to lead her to the car.
Sarah Jean thought. Missy did not like to be pushed around. She yanked her arm away. Wallace grabbed her arm again, Missy shook him off harder. He reached a third time. She was ready for it. She swung and hit him, a hard slap that landed square on his cheek, loud enough that a couple of the bikers looked over and grinned.
Wallace left Missy and got into the car.
“Well, this sucks majorly,” he said.
Missy perched at the end of the picnic table, her legs drawn up in front of her, resting her chin on her knees. She looked cold.
Sarah Jean got out and walked to her.
“Missy?” said Sarah Jean. “It’s time to go.”
Missy didn’t answer. She was looking over at the bikers. A couple of them were watching her. They were silhouetted against the campfire. Its flames licked high, throwing up tiny embers that glowed briefly against the sky before they flared out. Sarah Jean had to admit that the fire looked pretty good right now.
Sarah Jean said, “Missy, I want to go home. Now.”
Missy turned and flipped the keys at Sarah Jean’sfeet.
“Then go,” she said, and she hopped off the table and started toward the Demons. One of them held out a beer to her, and she took it and joined them around the campfire. She stepped into an open space between two of the men.
Sarah Jean returned to the car, and when she looked back Missy was dancing at the fire, head thrown back and swaying.
One of the bikers stepped behind her, moving in close. Missy didn’t seem to notice until he wrapped his thick arms around her. She squealed an uncertain laugh. He squeezed her, she started to fight loose, he picked her up. Now she was yelling, kicking her legs, as he carried her to the open rear of the van, with the second biker following.
In the car, Sarah Jean turned toward Wallace. He was staring out the window, stunned and transfixed.
“Do something,” Sarah Jean said. “Wallace,
Shrill, sober, scared.
The bikers threw her into the van and clambered in and pulled a curtain across the back.
Like that she was gone, swallowed up. The other three Demons, even the two women, acted as if nothing had just happened. As if nothing were happening now behind the curtain.
Wallace was staring out the window, at the empty space beside the campfire where Missy had been a few moments earlier.
“Wallace,” Sarah Jean said, trying to stay calm.“We have to get her, Wallace. You hear?”
Wallace didn’t look at Sarah Jean. His face was zombie blank.
“Holy shit,” he was murmuring. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
“Wallace, I’m going out there.”
Wallace reached and stopped her as Sarah Jean started to open her door.
“No,” he said. “Stay.”
He got out and sleepwalked toward the van. The three Demons formed a line in his path, blocking him.
Wallace stopped in front of them.
Missy screamed. It was like nothing