Sand sprayed up in all directions as Natalie Sawyer, arms outstretched, dove for the volleyball, getting there just in time to bump it back to her sister Bryn.
“Eat my dust!” she said, laughing.
Bryn jumped and slammed her fist into the top of the white leather sphere, her face twisted into a frown of concentration. Natalie slid across the sand, stopping just short of the ball. It sat on the edge of the lines they’d drawn around their court, its blank face taunting her.
“Yes!” Bryn pumped a fist in the air. “You eat my dust, slowpoke!”
Natalie picked up the ball and twirled it on the end of her finger. “I demand a rematch.”
“If you insist. Not that it’ll make a difference. I’m just better than you.” Bryn examined her outstretched nails.
Natalie backed up behind the line in the sand, her tongue protruding slightly from the corner of her mouth in concentration. She pressed one yellow sneaker into the sand, focused her eyes on her wrist, stepped and swung. The ball flew in a perfect arc over the net. . . .
The ground shook as the sand bubbled upwards, making the net slide down off the side of the rising mound and sending the ball flying down the beach. Natalie stumbled and fell on her behind. The sand rose above her, growing arms and eyes as it did so. Natalie was aware of people screaming behind her, and of Bryn yelling, telling her to run. She scrambled to her feet and took off, heading towards the road. The sandman’s arm stretched around her left side. She dove out of the way, turning a cartwheel before veering off towards an empty stretch of sand. The sandman’s other arm appeared in her peripheral vision, speeding towards her. It knocked her off her feet before she could react, and as she rolled out of the way, she felt the other arm grip hers. Now she screamed, trying to wrench her arm away. The creature’s grip was considerably strong, for something made of sand. It brought its other giant hand on top of her, and everything went black.
Jake Ellis stretched out his hands to his little sister. Taylor toddled towards him on chubby, unsteady legs. She reached him, grabbing his fingers and smiling in triumph.
He swung her into the air. “Atta girl! Who’s my favourite sister, hey?” She giggled as he tickled her soft baby cheek.
The clatter of pots and raised voices floated out of the kitchen window. His mom and brother Kurt were fighting again, probably over the new car Kurt wanted but they could never afford. Jake directed his attention back to Taylor, who was busy exploring the taste of grass in her mouth.
“Hey, that’s not food, silly.” He pried the grass from her closed fist. “Here,” he said, offering her one of her rubber ducks that was floating in the wading pool beside them. The fireflies blinked on and off in the cool of the evening. Jake put both hands behind him on the back porch and watched Taylor splash in the lukewarm pool. . . .
The water rose into a spout in Taylor’s face. She blinked, reaching out to grab the spray. It twisted and bulged into a crude imitation of a human, with big clumsy hands and empty holes for eyes.
“Taylor!” Jake sped across the lawn, lifting Taylor out of the way before positioning himself in front of her. He heard Mom scream from inside the house, and the front door open. He focused his attention on the creature, shifting his weight onto his toes. He raised his hands in a basic karate stance. The water-monster’s hand spiralled towards him, and he ducked and dodged, trying to draw the creature away from Taylor. It wasn’t that hard; it only seemed to notice him. Its other hand came at him from underneath, he jumped out of the way and backed into the porch. Kurt yelled at him from somewhere to his left, telling him to come inside before he got hurt. Jake stepped up onto the porch and started to walk towards the door. The creature’s arm wrapped around his back, cutting him off. He tried to duck under it, but the other hand hit his feet out from under him, and he fell hard on his back. He was dimly aware of Taylor shrieking, then the water closed over his head and he knew nothing more.
The lamp over Mina St. Claire’s desk gave her just enough light to read by. She’d immersed herself in the world of knights and magicians to try and forget her conversation with her mother just that afternoon.
“I signed you up for a youth camp next week,” she’d said. When Mina protested, she’d added, “No buts. You can’t just sit here in your room all summer. You have to get out and talk to other kids. Make some friends.”
Mina bit her lip, trying to control herself. She didn’t need friends. She was perfectly fine just the way she was, thank you. She reached down to stroke her cat, June, who was sleeping beside her chair. “They just don’t understand me,” she told her. June rumbled under her fingers, as though she understood, and she agreed with her. Mina twirled a strand of her black hair around one finger and went back to her book. . . .
The lamp flickered on and off, before sparks began to swirl around it, forming a shape with jagged arms and spiky hair. Mina’s book fell off her lap as she slowly stood up. She backed away from the thing in the middle of her room, throwing yellow light on the purple walls and the white drapery above her chair. It shot one arm towards her, and she dodged gracefully before making a run for the door. The electric creature blocked her way, propelling both arms like javelins rushing at her chest. She dropped to the floor, and rolled as it tried to hit her with first one spike, then the other. Mina scrambled to her feet and jumped at her chair, diving behind it.
She knelt there, breathing hard as she tried to make sense of the situation. There was a creature made from the electricity in her desk lamp trying to hurt her. It lifted the chair and threw it across the room. Mina winced as it hit the door, and through the floorboards she heard her dad yelling something she couldn’t quite make out. At any rate, she had bigger problems. The thing threw its arms at her in quick succession, forcing her towards the wall. Mina felt her back hit solid plaster. An arm was thrust towards her shoulder, she ducked only to feel the other one hit her legs. She screamed as it sent a jolt up her body, then her vision blurred and everything faded away.
The sound of electronic gunfire filled Zeke Herman’s room as he shot at the zombies on his computer screen. The screen went black and Game Over flashed across it.
“Aw, c’mon!” he protested, tossing the controller carelessly onto his desk. He flopped back in his chair and spun around just as his brother walked into the room.
“Zeke? What’s the average water retention of a camel’s humps?” David asked.
Zeke groaned. His gifted little brother always made him feel dumb, even when he was asking him for the answer. “Camel humps store fat, not water. They do drink up to 20 gallons at a time, though.”
“Serious? Then where does all that water go?”
“Into his bloodstream. Now go away. I need to pass this level, or I’m gonna explode.”
“Okay.” David left the room. Zeke turned back to his computer and hit reset. . . .
Instead of his video game, the computer screen was filled with numbers. They raced faster and faster, and it almost looked like they were coming out of it. Suddenly a stream of numbers shot past Zeke’s ear. He shoved his chair across the room, shooting off to the other wall. He grabbed the basketball sitting on his bed and aimed it at the creature that had formed out of the zeros and ones from the computer. With a careless gesture, he launched it at the head the thing had formed. It ducked, launching one tendril of numbers at his legs. He jumped over it, throwing himself sideways towards the wall to avoid the other arm reaching for his head. The creature grew another tentacle, and all three came speeding to where he stood with his back against the wall. He ducked, sliding downwards just in time. The number-thing’s tendrils dug themselves into the wall instead. He ran for the door, but another tendril reached around him. He sped right into one of the arms that had just been pulled out of the wall. The tentacles closed around him, and he could remember thinking, What’s Dad gonna think of the holes in the wall?, and then nothing.
