Текст книги "The Variables"

Автор книги: Shelbi Wescott

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

“Curfew is at eleven,” Scott told her.

“Curfew?” Lucy stopped with her hand on the railing. “There’s a curfew?”

“Yes, the lights will dim to conserve energy. A patrol will bring you home. So, hurry,” Scott said and he motioned her along.

Lucy trotted out into the hall. She walked up the stairs and back through the sky bridge, and down the other sky bridge; it was a laborious jaunt—nothing seemed easily accessible from anything else. It hadn’t felt like such a long walk before, but now she realized it had to be nearly a half a mile away. Feeling tired and sluggish, Lucy opened the sea level door to Cass’s hallway, but then she froze. Her hand still on the knob, the door ajar, Lucy watched as her brother walked down the same hall with his back to her. Lucy slipped into the hallway and shut the door soundlessly, and she ducked into the first alcove and watched him as he knocked twice on Cass’s door.

Had he looked in her direction, surely he would have seen her peeking out beyond the doorframe of the first apartment on the floor, but he didn’t look. Her heart beat wildly. Why hadn’t she just called out to him? Why was she hiding? But what was he doing down here?

Cass opened her door and Ethan mumbled a hello.

“Well, well,” she said.

“Nice sweatpants,” Ethan answered, a smile in his voice.

“What?” Cass smiled. “You didn’t get your own pair?”

Ethan leaned against her doorframe. “My parents are ridiculous. They actually think Teddy and Blair is a good idea. They essentially told me to back off...”

“We knew that would happen,” Cass cooed in a sympathetic voice. “I’m sorry though. I am.”

“I owe it to Teddy to fight for him. Darla wouldn’t want this…I know that.  He deserves better than this,” Ethan lamented. “And it’s not like I don’t know that it will be hard to get him away from Blair...it’s just...how could they possibly think that he’s better with her than with me? With my mom? My mom’s a child whisperer, you know. She could raise a million Teddys.”

“Shhhh,” Cass shushed him. “Nothing can be solved tonight.”

“I’ll kidnap him,” Ethan proclaimed. “Right?”

“Kidnapping someone in an enclosed building?” Cass laughed. “Ethan...”

Lucy stuck her head out further. She could still only see Ethan; Cass was hidden in her own doorway. Her friend mumbled something incoherent and Ethan muttered a reply. He was now leaning with one arm against the frame.

“I’m not going back there tonight,” he said.

“I don’t have a spare room,” Cass replied, but her tone was warm.

“I’ll sleep on your floor.”

“But what will my neighbors think?” Cass teased. “First day on Kymberlin and you’ll be the first to have a walk of shame...”

“I won’t be the first,” Ethan replied. “You saw the champagne flowing freely at the welcome party...”

“Well.” Cass leaned out of her door, shortening the distance between them. “You’d be my first overnight visitor in a long time...”

Lucy shook her head, reeling. The intimacy, the flirting; their voices carrying all the way down to her—she was sick as she followed the conversation.

Ethan laughed. It was the first time Lucy had heard him laugh since he was brought back from Oregon. She thought of him a few minutes ago glaring at her on the stairs, spewing forth his accusations with such disgust. And now, he laughed.

“Oh really?” Ethan replied. “Look, Cassandra, here’s the deal. My last girlfriend is dead. And the last girl I thought I could love ended up shot and burned to a crisp inside of my own house. But you knew all that.”

Lucy’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand to avoid from gasping audibly. She slumped back against the door. Her breathing became ragged and quick. What had he said? Burned up in their house? She reeled and tried to understand. Burned? The last girl he thought he could love? Who? And what? Confusion flooded her.

“So,” Ethan continued, “maybe I’m not really the best guy in the world to align yourself with right now. My track record with women is pretty poor.”

Cass laughed her trademark laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ethan King,” she replied. “Now come sleep on my floor so we can make everyone think you’re much more charming than you actually are.”

She helped him inside and shut her door.

The hallway was silent.

Lucy stumbled out into the vacant hall and let out all her breath in a hot gush. The hallway spun and she put her hands on the wall to steady herself. Their house had burned? And there had been a girl. There had been a fire. Someone had been shot. But you knew all that, he had said to Cass. She knew all that?

She knew all that.

Lucy’s face burned and her stomach knotted as she realized the worst betrayal of all: Cass and Ethan were friends. And they had kept it a secret from her.

They were conspiring together, sharing plans, telling stories, and they had excluded her completely.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The visitors came back to the house along the river on two other occasions. The second time there was an argument with raised voices and determined shouts before the car sped away with a peal of squealing tires. Still, their identities and stories were a mystery that Lou and his family kept closely guarded. Beyond the walls of the Hales’ fortified shelter was a thriving community of survivors. And deep in the dark belly of the basement, they hid a great secret: three humans kept against their will who held secrets of their own.

Lindsey had talked to them once more about an escape. But her ideas were ever-evolving, hindered by unknown entities. She kept their hope afloat by sending small promises as she passed them their meals or took them to the bathroom. Tiny nuggets of hope; shards of promises carried in the darkness.

Darla was done.

Done hoping that they could slip out into the night.

Done waiting for Lindsey to come up with a plan.

Done being pushed around.

Done feeling useless and trapped.

Anti-Stockholm Syndrome had reared its ugly head. She looked on Lindsey with disgust and rage as she realized that Lou’s daughter’s desire to align herself with the captives had cost them precious days. She had let a waifish girl with big eyes and choppy hair convince her that the best plan was waiting for the right time to escape. That had been a poor decision; regret settled in her gut like a rock. She couldn’t think for too long about the time they had wasted or the guilt was unbearable. She wanted to blame the drugs and the fear, but she knew there was no excuse that would get her to Nebraska faster.

Darla was done. And Darla was leaving.

She plotted their escape by the light of their camping lantern, closing her eyes and imagining a series of events that would end their torture. Ainsley had relegated herself to lying supine with her feet on the rocking horse. She would push it back and forth, the old springs squeaking and crying out in a measured tempo.

Darla slept, curled up against the carpet without a blanket or discarded shirt to cover her, but her eyes snapped open when she heard slow, steady footsteps on the stairs. Expecting Lindsey, she pushed herself off the ground and walked over to the door and pounded on it with her fist.

“I don’t want to talk to you unless you’re here to free me,” she whispered through the wood.

A flashlight beam scanned under the door. Darla watched the light create small shadows in the floor beneath her.

But it wasn’t Lindsey on the other side, it was Lou. He spoke to her and his voice was rich and deep, and he spoke barely above a whisper. “You think I’m a monster,” he said.

Darla pushed her ear against the wood to hear. She didn’t answer.

“You have a bargaining chip to get out of this basement…you know what you need to tell me…and you won’t.” He seemed genuinely hurt and confused. “You have to explain it to me, Darla,” Lou continued. “We’ve reached the point of no return. Your presence here is costing me allies…”

“The people I hear,” she said. “Who are they?”

Ainsley stirred. The rocking horse creaked.

“I have people to protect, too,” he answered. “What do you know about the Sweepers? Where are you going and what do I need to do to protect myself from them?” The flashlight disappeared for a second and then reappeared under the door. “Darla?”

She lowered her head and scratched her nails into the wood. Just so he would know she was there; just so he would know she was listening. Then she cleared her throat, “I don’t trust you. You’ve given me no reason to believe that you will keep your word. I’m a bargainer, Lou, but I don’t have anything to give you. When you let me out of this basement of your own free will and not because I’ve given you anything in return, only then do you get to know what I know.”

Lou sighed.

“But…” he started and stopped. “If you are one of them…”

“I’m not conning you,” she replied.

“It’s not personal,” Lou continued. He was practically begging. “It’s survival. I know that someone tried to kill us and failed. I know that they will continue to kill every last survivor until they have accomplished their goal...and yet you continue to protect them. Protect their whereabouts. That’s suspicious. Highly suspicious. Explain it to me, Darla. Explain to me why I’m supposed to think of you as my ally. I’m begging you…I’m here, I can’t sleep, I can’t think.”

Darla pounded a weak fist into the door as her answer.

“I’m waiting,” Lou said with an air of calm that crept underneath Darla’s skin. She shivered.

“You can’t drug me, and separate me from my friends, and keep me as your prisoner, and expect me to want to cooperate with you…” Darla croaked to the flashlight beam. “You attacked us first. Unprovoked.”

“I thought you were Sweepers.” He sounded so apologetic. So sad. Darla hated him for it. He had the power to do the right thing and still he refused. She wanted to make him pay for his blind allegiance to a non-existent standard. She didn’t doubt that Lou thought he was doing the right thing, and in many ways that made her even angrier.

“We’re not the enemy. Why are you trying so hard to make us one?”

“You can’t blame me for wanting to protect my family.”

“This new world can’t be built on mistrust,” she seethed and she pounded her hand into the door a little harder. “You didn’t even wait to see if we were good people before you decided we were bad.”

He had no response to that.

“I won’t jeopardize my own needs just so you can have some answers,” she continued. “My reasons for refusing to cooperate outweigh your needless desire for answers that don’t affect you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Darla,” Lou said.

She hated the way he said her name.

She heard him turn and the flashlight disappeared; his heavy steps traveled back up the stairs and the basement door slammed shut.

Squeak, squeak, squeak went the rocking horse. Ainsley sighed in her sleep. Or maybe she was awake. Darla didn’t know and she didn’t feel like needlessly waking her up just to see if she had been awake to start with. A second later, she heard Dean knocking. She crawled her way over to the vent and pressed her body against the floor. Her cheeks were wet, but she didn’t bother wiping them.

“This is a lost cause,” she whispered into the grate.

“I heard,” Dean said. He sounded like he was right beside her. She wished she could reach through the vent and hold his hand. “Jesus. Darla...we have to do something,” he continued. “We can’t stay here like this.”

“I know. I’m thinking.”

She didn’t move. She just stayed still against the ground, her ear to the floor.

“We’re going to find him, Darla. Teddy is still out there and we’re going to get to him. He’s safe and he’s waiting for us. Okay?”

“I’m not okay,” she answered. “I’ve never felt so weak. So stupid and weak. This is the one time I should be strong…and I failed. I misjudged this entire situation. How could I have failed my own child?”

“You’ll regain your strength...”

“Not just physically weak, Dean. Mentally. Emotionally. I don’t know if I have what it takes to do this. I don’t think I can be the hero.” She paused. “Should I tell him? Should I tell him about Nebraska and the soldiers and my son?”

“If you think it’s best,” he said quickly. His response was not what she had wanted to hear.

“We don’t know who those other people are,” she replied. “What prevents them from getting the information from us and checking it out before they let us leave? And blowing our cover? Or…launching a surprise attack. With Teddy still there.”

“Is that what you’re most afraid of?” Dean whispered.

Darla didn’t answer.

“Well,” Dean said after a pause, “Then it’s settled. They learn nothing from us. We hold our ground. We’ll find another way out.” They went silent. Then he whispered, “You think we’ll find my boy, Darla? It’s not fair, you know…it’s not fair that I just let him slip out of my life. I see that…I need to tell him that I should’ve fought for him. You think he’s okay?”

“I do,” she answered. But she didn’t know. She thought of the items in the room; she inventoried them in her head. And she thought of Lindsey, her potential co-conspirator coming down with dinner in a few hours. All those things fluttered through her thoughts. Then she shifted against the carpet and said, “Tell me a good memory, Dean.” She could hear the hum of the house through the cracks beneath her.

He went quiet and Darla pressed her ear down harder.

“Dean?”

“Christmas. When I was about ten. My dad took me out to cut down our own tree, just me and him, out in some u-cut farm in the mountains. We were out all day trying to find the perfect tree. He’d keep saying, ‘Your mom deserves the best tree, Dean. Just the best.’ Finally, we found one...cut it down, strapped it up, traveled all the way home. It was dusk when we pulled in the drive, and my mom was there, in the window, with two mugs of hot cocoa. Big old marshmallows floating in just pure chocolate. I can still taste it. And I remember my dad setting that tree up in the middle of our family room and helping my mom string the lights.” Dean paused.

Darla couldn’t hear anything but her own steady breath against the floor.

“We had this Elvis Christmas record playing. And my parents were dancing...my mom in this pink robe and my dad in these tight bell-bottomed pants. They were just so happy...you remember what it felt like to see your parents just happy like that? God, I can just see them still. Elvis. The tree. And my mom hands me the tinsel, right? These stringy pieces of silver and gold and I string them all over. And she kisses my head. And says to me, ‘You remember these moments, Dean, and hide them in your heart. Because life isn’t always pretty and you’ll need bright shiny tinsel moments to get through, okay?’ I should’ve remembered that sooner, I guess. How it felt. Maybe it would’ve made me a better man. A better dad or husband. I knew what good looked like and it didn’t matter. I didn’t remember the tinsel, I guess. What a piece of wasted advice.”

“I said a good memory,” Darla said with a smile in her voice.

“Well, then, how’s this for cliché. The day Grant was born,” he amended. “He was a pink, ugly mess. And God, I miss that kid.”

“He’s a good egg,” Darla said. She picked at a loose carpet thread. “Good young man. From what I knew.” She knew him for a day, but qualifying it wasn’t important. It was what Dean needed to hear and she was happy to say it.

“I did okay sometimes,” was Dean’s reply. “You know, they tell you that you’re supposed to tell your kid that you’re proud of them so that they know it when they’re older. I didn’t do that. Do you do that?”

Darla hummed a yes. She did. She was a good mom. Not a perfect mom, but a good mom. She had never measured herself against the barrage of parenting barometers that modern society kept throwing her way. She was a good mom and she didn’t need a different mom sitting behind a computer to tell her that. Pressed against the floor, her ear to a vent, the rumblings of the house pounding in her ear, Darla knew that her current situation did not define her—she would reunite with her son. She would keep him safe.

The duo stopped talking. There was nothing more to say. Darla could hear Dean’s thick and steady breathing from the other side of the grate, and the movement of the rabbits in their pen. Dean’s isolation had taken a toll on his sanity—he had named the rabbits after various former baseball players and lamented when the Hales picked a beloved one to eat. Without natural light, the rabbits were small and skittish, but Dean had seemed to form fast friendships. Poor Buster Posey had gone up the night before last, and Darla was certain she could hear Dean praying for the bunny’s soul.

Between Dean’s heavy snores and the rabbits scuttling about, Darla let her mind wander. She laid back and stared at the ceiling, dreaming of escape.

“Someone’s coming,” Darla whispered through the grate, hoping that it would rouse Dean from slumber. She could hear steps approaching the basement door. Darla scuttled upward away from the vent. She grabbed the lantern and spun it around the room. She spotted the overturned lamp next to the coffee table, untouched since she had pounded against the ceiling. Ditching the lantern, Darla picked up the lamp and held it like a bat over her shoulder.

“Ainsley,” she whispered to the sleeping girl.

“Hmmmm,” Ainsley mumbled.

“Get up. Come on. We’re going.”

“What?” Ainsley pushed the rocking horse and then sat up quickly. “What?” She stared at Darla by the light of the lantern, her eyes wide with confusion and shock. “What?” she asked again.

The lock above the door rattled, the door creaked open, and Darla slid her body against the wall. Noticing the lamp above Darla’s shoulder for the first time, Ainsley jumped up and stood against the wall, out of sight. Her hair was a tangled mess. She clasped her hands in front of her and closed her eyes tight.

A triangular sliver of light appeared on the floor, and it crept wider and wider. Lindsey’s silhouette appeared and she took a tentative step forward.

“Darla?” she asked. “Ainsley?”

With a deep breath, Darla stepped out and swung, landing a blow across Lindsey’s upper arm. Shocked and surprised, Lindsey backed out into the hall, fumbling with the door, but Darla kicked it open and followed her. She pushed the base of the lamp against Lindsey’s chest and jammed her into the wallpapered wall opposite her prison. Lindsey grasped at the lamp leg and struggled to catch her breath. She started to call out, but Darla dropped the lamp and rushed forward. She placed her arm up against Lindsey’s throat and clasped her hand over her mouth. The woman’s eyes were wide and they filled with tears.

“Not a word,” Darla said. “Ainsley! Keys.” Ainsley emerged from the room blinking and looked at Darla and Lindsey and she grimaced. But she reached into Lindsey’s pocket without complaint and pulled out the bundle of keys for the basement doors.

“We’re leaving. Tonight. You hear me?” Darla asked.

Lindsey nodded. She blinked and the tears ran down Darla’s hand.

“I’m taking my hand away and don’t even think about calling for help,” Darla told her, and Lindsey nodded again. Darla turned to Ainsley, “Let Dean out.” Darla removed her hand and looked Lindsey in the eyes. “Where’s everyone else?”

“My-my-my,” Lindsey stammered. Darla shook her gently out of anxiousness and pity and Lindsey groaned and gasped. “My parents are upstairs in their room. My brother is in the main room, watching the basement...basement...door.”

“Where is my gun?” Darla asked.

Lindsey shook her head. “I don’t know what you wanted. I don’t know how you thought I could ever help you if you weren’t willing to cooperate a little. I told you I’d help when I could...I couldn’t. I couldn’t. You don’t understand.”

“Are you armed?”

“Are you Sweepers?” Lindsey asked, ignoring Darla’s question.

Darla leaned closer. “Are you armed?”

Lindsey nodded. “Back...pocket.” Darla spun Lindsey against the wall and patted Lindsey’s waist and her back pockets, and pulled out the small stun gun. She turned it on and jabbed it into Lindsey’s back, her finger hovered over the trigger.

“No...please...” Lindsey pleaded. “Not like this. I told you I was on your side.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Darla said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Ainsley successfully found the key to unlock Dean’s door and Dean stumbled outward and looked down the hall at Lindsey and Darla. He scratched his head and assessed the two women with perplexed curiosity.

“We have a plan?” he whispered to Darla.

Darla shook her head. “First step. Get out of our rooms.”

“Hey, we’re doing great then,” Dean replied.

“He’s so close to letting you go,” Lindsey said. She began to sob, heaving heavily and leaning forward to catch her breath. “The others…they said they wouldn’t work with kidnappers. He’s been feeling so conflicted. You don’t understand…he’s not evil.”

“Calm down,” Darla instructed in a fierce whisper. “Calm down. Now. Please. And thank you.” And Lindsey listened; she took a deep breath and waited, even though her bottom lip still quivered. “It’s too late. I don’t want to wait any longer for someone else to decide to show me benevolence.” She grabbed Lindsey’s arm harder. Darla held her arms tightly pinned behind her and pushed the stun gun into Lindsey’s side.

“I’m helping you,” Lindsey said hoarsely. “I told you I’d help you...”

“You’re a little late on the offer,” Darla said. She loosened her grip. “Am I hurting you?”

Lindsey shook her head.

“Let me know if I pull too hard. I don’t want to hurt you,” Darla said.

She directed the woman up the steps, keeping the stun gun trained on her ribs. “Dean and Ainsley,” Darla called back down the stairs, “take the keys. Go the car and wait. I’ll get my gun and follow behind.”

“Darla—” Lindsey said weakly. “Car keys…are…upstairs.”

“Where’s my gun?” Darla whispered.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back.

Lyle called from the other room. “You do it?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Lindsey replied, unmoving from the top step.

“They’ll be out long?” he mumbled. “Maybe dad can whip up truth serum or something. End this whole thing.”

“Yeah,” Lindsey said, her voice catching. “Yeah,” she said again, stronger the second time.

“Ray and Jillian back tonight?” he asked. Darla froze. The visitors had names. Lindsey was slow to answer and Darla prodded her with a tap.

“I don’t…maybe…”

“Why are you hovering?” her brother asked and his voice was getting closer.

Darla’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt Dean’s steady hand against her back and then his lips near her ear. “Give me the stun gun,” he said and he slipped his hand next to Darla’s and took the gun. Then he counted slowly and as Lyle’s footsteps approached the door, Darla shoved Lindsey to the ground and Dean sprung, landing the stun gun against Lyle’s neck and jabbing him with a steady stream of voltage. Lyle’s muscles thrashed involuntarily and the lumbering man sunk to the ground.

“Tie him up! Tie him up!” Dean whispered loudly to Ainsley and Ainsley stumbled around the room looking for their own discarded ropes. She attempted to bind the man, but he was regaining his strength and he grabbed Ainsley around the wrist.

“Ouch! Ouch!” Ainsley simpered and she sunk to her knees. The stun gun was ready to go again and Dean leaned forward and zapped Lyle in the shoulder; he dropped his grip on Ainsley.

But then the electrodes stopped firing and the gun whined to stop. Breathing heavily, Lyle regained control of his body. He lifted his head and shifted his legs to stand, taking a swipe at Dean who fumbled with Ainsley to tie the rope around his legs. Working on the knots, Dean managed to pin Lyle’s arms to his body and keep his legs bound together.

When he realized he was incapacitated, Lyle stopped flailing on the ground. “Are you here to kill us?” Lyle asked, his voice raw.

Lindsey struggled in Darla’s arms and pulled against her, but Darla hugged her close. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she reiterated in a slow, steady tone. “Stop.”

“You hurt my brother,” Lindsey cried and she tried to yank away from Darla one more time.

“Shit,” Dean spat. “Lindsey?” he turned his attention to the daughter. “You said the car keys are upstairs?”

She nodded. “In my parent’s bedroom. Side table. They keep them there so Lyle and I wouldn’t be able to make a break for it during the night.” She sniffed.

“Is that a real concern?” Darla asked.

“Look, you don’t have to understand. They don’t want to lose us…we aren’t bad people,” Lindsey added weakly. “He’s not a bad person…”

“I’ll go,” Dean offered and he checked the stun gun and started up the stairs.

“I’ll stay right here,” Ainsley answered from the side of the room. She stood next to Lyle and watched him warily.

Darla looked at Dean squarely. The room was glowing with the dots of nearly fifty tea-light candles, and upstairs someone stirred. Everyone’s eyes traveled upward and waited to see if someone was about to make an appearance. The noises and creaking stopped; everyone sighed.

“My father thinks this is the right thing. You can’t fault him for that. You haven’t seen what we’ve seen...you don’t know what we know. For years people treated him like he was crazy for wanting to be prepared. Like Noah and his boat...people laughed at him, until the rains came.”

“Save the speech,” Darla interrupted.

“If I had known how to help you, I would have helped you. If I knew how to leave...I would have left.” Lindsey’s voice shook. “Just don’t hurt them...they’re not bad people. They’re crazy, but they’re not bad. And you promised you’d take me with you...”

“I want my gun. If not my gun, any gun.”

Lindsey nodded. She walked over to a china cabinet in the main room. She opened a glass door wide and reached in, grabbing Darla’s weapon. She hesitated, as if she thought about turning the gun on Darla, but then at the last second, she handed it over. Darla checked the chamber—still loaded—and clicked the safety off.

“I’m going up,” Darla announced. Dean shook his head, but she stopped him. “Not a debate. You stay here with Ainsley. Make sure Lyle stays where he is. I’ll take Lindsey upstairs and get the keys.”

“Don’t hurt them,” Lindsey said again.

Dean paused. “I don’t think that’s the best plan...” he shook his head.

“When will you learn?” she asked. “When I tell you a plan…I’m not asking for your thoughts on it.”

Shaking his head, Dean turned. “You’re going to go up there alone? Darla…seriously.” Darla didn’t respond. Dean sighed and shook his head again. “First sign of a struggle and I’m coming up there. You hear me?”

“I always hear you, Dean. Sometimes I choose not to listen.” She tried to sound friendly and facetious, but she was too tired and the banter felt forced. She was grateful for Dean and she hoped, despite the bravado, that he could see that. He was a good egg, too. She wanted to tell him that.

Darla steadied her gun, and touched Lindsey’s shoulders carefully.

“Put your hands behind your back,” she said softly and Lindsey did as she was told.

“Will you take me me with you?” Lindsey asked. “Take me to the other survivors. Take me to Ray and Jillian’s…you’ll meet them. They’re good people. Take me somewhere that doesn’t feel like such a prison.”

Darla laughed with a biting sigh. “Lindsey, you seem like such a smart girl.” She placed her gun into Lindsey’s back and pushed just enough so Lindsey could feel its presence. “The other survivors, huh? The people who come to visit you?”

Lindsey nodded.

“Who are they?”

She didn’t answer.

“Right,” Darla said. “It’s understandable for you not to trust me. I don’t blame you. Maybe that’s the difference between us.”

The candlelight flickered all around them.

“There’s a little place in Montana with survivors,” Lindsey offered in a whisper. “They’ve been trying to convince my dad to go with them. It’s safer there. But he won’t leave this place…he’s worked too hard.”

“How many survivors?” Darla asked.

“I don’t know exactly. But when they find people, they move them there. People from Canada, Oregon, Washington, California. Not as many people from the East. Yet.”

“And they know about us?” Darla asked. She pushed the gun into Lindsey’s back a little harder. Lindsey didn’t answer. “Do they?” she asked again. Lindsey nodded. “Yeah…I got the impression that they aren’t too thrilled,” Darla said and she shook her head. Then she took a deep breath. She looked at Dean and then to Ainsley, and lastly to Lyle on the floor.

“Let’s get those keys,” she said. “I’ve got this. I’ll be back soon.” She pushed Lindsey up the stairs, down the dark hallway toward the master bedroom. Candlelit glow sneaked out under the closed door. After a quick count to three, she kicked in Lou and Cricket’s bedroom door, and it crashed backward with a bang. Cricket spun in the bedsheets, screaming and covering her head as she jumped off the side of the bed, the comforter trailing behind her.

“Help! Lou!” she shouted with muffled cries.

Lou was quick. He swiped at the Taser on his bed stand and raised it, poised to fire, but then he spotted Lindsey and his eyes went to the gun in Darla’s hand. He hesitated, floundering. His white boxers clung to his pale, skinny legs and his t-shirt sported holes along the collar. In the dark, in his underwear, he looked small and sad. The room was dark except for the candles. The flickering light made stationary objects dance on the walls. It was disorienting.

“How?” Lou asked. It was the first word out of his mouth. He did not ask for Lindsey’s release, or beg for Darla not to hurt his daughter. Instead, he watched them both, reeling, and he wondered how his plans had failed.

“Car keys,” Darla demanded. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Even in the dark, Darla could see Lou’s eyes widen. He was frozen into inaction.

“Lyle! Lyle!” the father called for his son.

Darla shook her head. “Sorry. You’re on your own. The keys.”

From the corner, Cricket cried. “Give her the keys, Lou.”

“Cricket—” Lou interrupted in a warning voice.

Without letting Lindsey budge, Darla eased herself closer to the center of the room.

“Let my daughter go.”

“I want the keys to any of your vehicles. Then I will leave and you’ll never see me again. Don’t you want that, Lou? Don’t you want your life back? Give me the keys.”