What darkness hides, p.9
What Darkness Hides, page 9
part #2 of Darkness Falls Series
I pause. “You’re not just going to leave him here, are you?” Danny could stumble through the portal. He could get eaten by a wild animal, or worse.
Ian shrugs. “Why not?” From the look in his eyes, I don’t think he’d mind it if Danny disappeared, too.
“What if he stumbles through the portal?”
He rests his hand on mine. “Then we kill two birds with one stone.”
BY TEN O’CLOCK THE next morning, I’m hiding in the kitchen under the guise of making breakfast while Brett and Molly run around the backyard. Molly has a little green watering can and is attempting to water the butterfly garden she’s planted by one of our maple trees. Her white-and-blue-flowered sun dress floats around her knees. She tips the watering can over her flowers, oblivious to the annoyance that is our brother.
Brett creeps around the corner of the house, maniacal glee on his face. He clutches his drone in one hand and the remote in the other. Before I can yell out of the window, he sends the drone up in the air, zipping it as close as he can to her face without hitting her.
“Brett!” she shrieks.
Great. Why can’t they behave for once? I’d almost rather be working. And of course, it figures that Dad went into work early today. Who wants to look at houses before nine? People are strange. Just as I crank the window open a bit more to yell at Brett, my cell phone rings.
“Honey?” Mom’s voice is rushed, and there’s an underlying level of stress that usually isn’t there. “Can you call Ezra? He didn’t show up today, and he didn’t answer when I called. We’re slammed here, and I need his help.”
I lean against the kitchen counter. “He probably overslept. His cell phone reception is pretty bad at his house, but I’ll try.”
“Please. I have a feeling it’s going to be like this all day, so I need him, and you, as soon as possible.”
I sigh, seeing my dreams of lounging around after last night’s escapades slipping away. “All right. What do you want me to do with Brett and Molly?”
“Drop them off at Grandma’s on your way.”
In the backyard, Molly throws the watering can at Brett, who races toward the house. “I gotta go, or they might kill each other this time. See you soon.”
Mom swears under her breath. In my head, I picture her pinching the bridge of her nose the way she does when she gets really stressed. “Just deliver them to Grandma’s house alive, okay? Then they’re her problem.”
I chuckle. “Will do.”
On the other end of the line, someone calls her name, so we say our good-byes and hang up. Before I call my brother and sister into the house, I close my eyes and savor one last brief bit of peace. So much for my day off. But then Molly shrieks from the backyard, and Brett cackles, and sends me straight back into reality. Yup, sounds about right.
While they’re getting ready, I call Ezra. The phone rings several times before going to voice mail. I leave a message, but his unusual silence has me worried. This isn’t like him. He’s angry with me over the shoe, but he wouldn’t take it out on my mom. In his own way, Ezra is dependable and predictable. My spider sense tingles. Something’s wrong.
“Come on, Ezra,” I mutter after dialing his number again. “Where are you?”
Brett ducks his head around the corner. “Calling your boyfriend?” he taunts.
I scowl. “No. He’s just a friend.”
“Uh huh.” My little brother laughs. “I’m gonna tell Mom.”
I stuff the phone in my pocket when it goes to voice mail again. “I don’t care. We need to go. Are you ready?”
He produces a plastic bag with his swimsuit and his drone sticking out the top. “Yup.”
“You know Molly’s going to break that someday, right?”
His hands ball into fists. “I’ll kill her if she touches it. Why can’t we just leave her here?”
I roll my eyes. “You know better than that. Go get in the car and I’ll find Molly.”
After he disappears, I find my sister in her bedroom, meticulously choosing which Barbies to bring with her. She has four laid out, all with matching outfits and accessories.
“Why not bring them all?” I ask, cringing as I imagine my mom’s frown. Molly loses stuff like it’s going out of style. At least they’re not my problem anymore after I drop them off. At least for a few hours.
Molly bites her lip. “Are you sure? I don’t know if they all want to go swimming. Maybe just Suzie.” She holds up one wearing a red swimsuit. “Do you think she wants to go?”
“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding enthusiastically. “She definitely wants to go swimming. Ready?”
With a beleaguered sigh, Molly stuffs Suzie and one other doll into a little pink backpack and shuffles down the hall. “Fine. But Brett better leave me alone,” she says. “Or I’m gonna tell Grandma and he won’t get any ice cream.”
I chuckle at the imagined meltdown. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
As I drive them to Grandma’s house, concern for Ezra eats at me, gnawing away at the back of my mind. Where is he? Why doesn’t he answer his phone? Something has to be wrong.
I shake my head to dispel the annoying voice. Maybe he’s sleeping. That’s it. He just had a long night, or nightmares kept him up. God knows I’ve had enough of those since this all began. But that little voice keeps whispering, nagging, that I need to check it out. Mom will have to wait just a bit longer.
Chapter 15
After I drop off Brett and Molly, I slide into the front seat of my car. As I click my seatbelt, something tucked under my windshield wiper blade catches my eye. What the heck? It looks like a business card, or a little folded pamphlet.
Feeling as if a million eyes are on me, I get out and reach under my windshield wiper.
The card is cool under my fingertips, and dry. One side is completely black, with an embossed moon outline and the words Dark City Operations in a silvery font with an out-of-area phone number printed under it. On the back were the words: Call me. I can help. Danny.
With a scowl, I jam the card into my wallet and toss it into my purse on the seat beside me. He knows Ian doesn’t want his help, so what does he think he’ll accomplish by contacting me? Oh well, it’ll have to wait. I have too much to deal with right now to worry about him. I’ll deal with it later.
Before I leave, I shoot Ezra a quick text, begging him to call me back, but there’s no response. The logical part of my mind says that maybe he dropped his phone, lost his charger, or something, but deep inside I know that something’s wrong. And I’ve been doing this long enough to know that I have to listen to that second, more cautious voice.
I tap my hands on the steering wheel, my anxiety building. After a few more minutes, I call my mom to let her know I’m on my way.
“Still nothing from Ezra?” she asks.
“No. Do you mind if I stop by his house? This isn’t like him.” I turn toward his house anyway, without waiting for Mom to reply.
“Yeah, sure. But hurry, okay? We’re getting busy again.”
After promising her I would, I step on the gas, speeding up as if that will help escape the urgency gnawing at my mind. It doesn’t. Fingers clenching the steering wheel, I turn down Ezra’s driveway, so quickly my car bucks beneath me. “Come on, come on.”
When Ezra’s uncle’s farmhouse comes into view, some of the tension leaves my shoulders, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
From the outside, it doesn’t look like anything’s different. The white paint on the ramshackle farmhouse still peels off of its worn wooden siding in long, finger-like slivers. The old glass windows gleam in the sunlight, but they’re closed and curtained off. Ezra’s yellow VW Bug is parked haphazardly in front, its driver’s side door open. That’s definitely not like him.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Not too long ago, I ran into the same thing, but with Ian, and it involved a whole lot of dead dinosaurs and one pissed-off Phoebe. I definitely don’t want to do that again. After scanning the rest of the field and the trees surrounding us, I park my car next to Ezra’s and dial his number again. Still nothing. It was worth a shot.
I slip out of my car, careful to close my door quietly, so as not to alert any predators, either two legged or four, that may be around. Birdsong greets me, which is a relief. I wouldn’t hear that if there were predators around.
“Ezra?”
The birds quiet, as if they too wait for his response. Nothing. I creep toward the car. A dried brown smear coats the door handle. Is that blood?
“Ezra?” This time, my voice is quieter, almost like I’m begging him to answer, but I’m afraid of the answer, too. I take another step. There’s more blood dried on the base of the door. I gently open the door more and duck my head inside. Brown smudges coat the seat and the floor mat.
Mind racing, I scan the brush. I’ve got to find him. I don’t think he would have been able to get very far.
The house. I bet he made it up to the house. He’d be safer in there. Heart thudding double time in my chest, I race up the steps and onto the porch. Just before I grab the doorknob, I hesitate. More blood shines dully in the sunlight. With the hem of my shirt, I carefully open the door and slip inside.
“Ezra?” No answer. I shut the door behind me. On the scuffed hardwood floors, there’s another smear of blood, leading into the living room. The silence weighs down on me from all sides, suffocating me.
Another dried bloodstain on the floor. I scan the living room. Amid the boxes, covered furniture, and knickknacks, a body lies prone on the couch. Ezra. Relief replaces some of the worry. I’ve found him. I skid to a stop next to him. He’s on his back, with one arm hanging off of the side of the couch and the other clutching his side.
I press my fingers into the side of his neck to feel for a pulse. Time stops as I wait, until a faint beat pushes up against my fingers. Thank God.
“Ezra, can you hear me?” I smooth his matted hair away from his forehead and stroke his cheek. “Ezra? It’s me, Austen.”
Nothing.
I straighten him out and move his arm. Dried blood stains Ezra’s light-gray T-shirt. It sticks to his skin, and I gently peel it away. Underneath, angry red puncture wounds stretch around his side, coming to a point in the front. Something attacked him. Something big, with a long and narrow jaw. What could make a wound like that?
Ezra groans, and his eyes flutter open.
“Hey, there.” I caress his cheek as he blinks again.
“Austen?” His voice is raspy. He tries to reach up and touch his side, but he can’t, he’s too weak. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you.” I squeeze his hands. “It’ll be okay. I’m going to get some help. I’ll be right back.”
Ezra nods and coughs, his whole body shaking. He grimaces. “Okay. I’m sorry, I—” But before he can finish, his eyes roll back in his head, and he starts shaking, slightly at first, but then thrashing from side to side on the couch.
“Ezra!”
I press my hands to his chest, both to hold him there and to let him know he’s not alone, if he can hear me. No response, except for the racing of his heart, perfectly in tune with mine. I grab my phone and shakily stab in 9-1-1.
Chapter 16
6:54 p.m. I sigh and lean my elbows on the front counter. Can time go any slower? I need to get to the hospital and see Ezra. I know he’s in good hands, and he’ll be all right, but I can’t get the memories of his strange injury and his seizure out of my head.
“Staring at the clock isn’t going to make the time go by faster,” Mom quips from behind me. She joins me at the counter, a mug of coffee in one hand. “I’m sorry you had to find him like that. I never should have let you go to his house.”
“But if I hadn’t found him, he would have died.” My fingers drum on the counter. “I think I’m the only one who knows where he lives.” He hasn’t even talked to his parents since he moved here. He’s all alone. “I just wish I could talk to him, you know? Make sure he’s doing okay after everything that happened.”
Mom sighs and glances at the clock. “Well, the dinner rush is over, and visiting hours end at eight, so you have about an hour.”
My breath catches in my throat. Is she saying what I think she’s saying? “I can go?”
She nods. “As long as you promise to come back afterward to help close up. I know it’s a long day for you, but with Ezra gone, I really need the help.”
Mentally, I groan, but I don’t show it. My feet are killing me, but I’d come back and work until midnight if it meant I could go check on Ezra. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I jump to my feet and wrap my mom in a hug. “I’ll be back soon. I promise!”
I sprint toward the door before she changes her mind.
“Austen.” Worry draws grooves on either side of her eyes and the corners of her mouth. “Be careful, okay? I...I don’t know what all your dad is wrapped up in, and frankly I don’t know if I want to.” The firm set to her lips tells me how serious she is. “But now it involves you, and I don’t want you in danger.”
“I’m not. I’m fine, really.”
She shakes her head. “No. That was part of the deal for your dad and I, that you kids wouldn’t get roped into his craziness. I don’t want you in danger, Austen. I’m serious.” She blinks back sudden tears.
Even though I’m inwardly impatient, I rush over to her and give her a hug. “I’m not in danger, I promise.” Okay, so a little white lie won’t hurt, right? Especially if it makes her feel better. “And I’m always careful.”
“I trust you, I really do.” Her voice is muffled into my shoulder. “And I know I can’t tell you what to do, because...” Her lips set in a wry grin. “You got your stubbornness from me.”
“You got that right.”
She chuckles and releases me. “Get outta here, or you’ll run out of time, okay?”
I press a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” This time, I really do dash out the door. I wish I could spend more time assuring her that I’ll be safe, and that Ian would never intentionally put me in danger, but the truth is I’m not. If she knew half of the escapades we got into, she’d ground me for life.
I drive to the hospital as quickly as I can without getting pulled over. It takes roughly half an hour to get to Alpena, but the drive feels so long.
By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m peering over the steering wheel, cursing the people in front of me who drive slower than an old lady on Sunday morning on her way to church. “Come on, dude. Move it.”
The sliding doors to the central lobby blast air at me from all sides. Pale walls surround plum-colored benches and a circular desk that matches the walls. A middle-aged woman with thin brown hair, a garish floral shirt, and a name tag that reads Phyllis pecks furiously at her computer as I approach.
“Can I help you?” she asks when I lean against the counter.
“I’d like Ezra Montgomery’s room number, please.”
She arches her thin, penciled eyebrows. “And you are?”
I flush at the annoyance in her voice. “Austen Gillet. I’m his friend.” Friend. Sometimes that seems so inadequate, given everything we’ve been through, but I guess it works.
She taps her tapered, Pepto-Bismol-pink fingernails on the keyboard. “Montgomery. There you are.” Then she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you see him if you’re not related.”
She has to let me see him. I’ve got to make sure he’s all right. “Please?” Desperation threads my voice. “I just need to see him. After everything that happened yesterday...” I shudder at the memory of him convulsing on the ground. “I’ve got to talk to him.”
She types a few more things into her computer. “I can’t give you his information, but check with the nurse’s station in the ICU. If he’s conscious, they’ll ask him if you can come in. I really can’t do anything else though.”
“Sure, sure.” I smile through some of my fear. “Thank you for your help.”
She snorts and directs me to the kiosk in the center of the lobby that has a map printed on its side. “Don’t thank me yet, kid. They might not let you in there. It’s their call.”
My stomach sinks, but I take a deep breath. They have to let me see him. If they don’t, I’ll just go door to door until either I find him or they call security. I tuck the brochure under my arm, thank Phyllis once more, and leave to find the ICU.
Once I get there, I stop by the front desk. I decide to play dumb. Maybe they’ll just let me in, even though Ezra and I aren’t related. I briefly debate lying and telling them I’m his sister, but I figure they’ll ask for I.D. and kick me out when I can’t prove it.
The stout older woman behind the desk puts down the chart she’s looking at when she notices me. “Is there something I can help you with, dear?”
I ask to see Ezra and tell her that we’re not related, but I’m his friend and I’m the one who found him. “I’m just so worried,” I say, and bite my bottom lip. “I just have to make sure he’s all right.” Which is the truth, but if he can talk, I also want to see if he remembers what happened and how he was injured.
“Your name’s not on his list,” she says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you back there.”
I lean against the counter, as if that will keep the creeping desperation from eating me whole. “Can you see if he’s awake and ask him? I’m sorry, I...I know you’re busy, but I’d really appreciate it.”
With a huff, she walks down the wide, white paneled walls to the first door on the right. After what feels like hours, she returns. “You’re in luck. He’s awake and said you could go in.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, filled with relief.
She grumbles in response. I hurry past her before she can change her mind.
A lump forms in my throat when I see a body lying still on the bed in the center of the room, a blanket pulled to his waist. He’s pale, and dark smudges circle his eyes. Machines beep next to him, and a flimsy white curtain is bunched around the far side. I freeze, swamped with déjà vu.
