The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(74)

“Is it bad?” Quentin calls to her.

“Oh, I didn’t see you!” She startles, as usual.

“Miriam, is Fiona going to be okay?” Quentin understandably has much less patience for her inability to focus now.

“Oh, yes, I think so.” Miriam waves a hand. “It’s just a graze,” she says in a way that only someone who was once a combat nurse could. “A few stitches and she’ll be fine.”

“Miriam!” Adam shouts from the back. “She’s feeling dizzy!”

“They really need you.” Another voice now, this one headed our way from the back. A man’s voice that I can’t identify. “Adam’s freaking out.”

But a voice I’ve heard before. My mind spins around trying to place it, the effort vacuuming the air out of my lungs. By the time the man finally steps into view, I am so light-headed that my vision is blurred. But I make out that the size and shape of this man is bigger than the other men. Large in a way I have seen before.

No. I do not want to be seeing him. I close my eyes. Keep my eyes closed long enough, I hope, to clear them. For that man to disappear. But when I open them, he’s still there. And I can see him so clearly now. So much clearer than I want him to be.

“Hey, did you hear me?” the man calls to Miriam. He waves a rude hand at her. “Hello?”

It’s when he waves his hand that there can truly be no doubt. Because I see it. The bandage. Covering the place where I stabbed him.

Doug.

Bam, bam, bam, goes my heart. When I turn, Quentin is still staring in Miriam’s direction. That’s him. The one who attacked us, I scream silently at the side of his face. There’s no more preparing for North Point. They’re here.

Cassie. What if they already have her? I never should have come back inside. Shouldn’t have listened to Quentin, even if he was just trying to help. I should have just—Doug is going to want to hurt me back. Yes. He is going to want to do that first.

“Coming, coming,” Miriam calls to Doug, rubbing her bony fingers together. “Just need some hot water to warm up these hands before I do any stitching. Otherwise, who knows what kind of scar she’ll end up with?”

“It’s him,” I finally manage in a whisper. “The one I stabbed. We have to get Cassie. Now.”

I hold my breath and wait for Quentin to turn, to grab my hand and run. But his eyes stay locked on Doug. His face tight, and utterly still.

Angry? Is that it? Maybe he’s going to charge at Doug instead of running the other way. But I know that Doug is even stronger than he looks. Stronger than Jasper. Definitely stronger than Quentin.

When I look back, it’s already too late. Doug is staring right at us. At me. He recognizes me, too. There’s no doubt about it. He even takes a few steps forward, stops in the middle of the room. Fists clenched at his sides like he’s getting ready to charge.

And in the endless, frozen moments that follow, the last of the oxygen gets sucked from the room. My thoughts flash and disappear like lightning. Too quick for me to get a fix on, too fast to understand.

All I have are questions anyway. What will happen if Quentin goes after Doug? Will Doug choke Quentin like he did Jasper? Will he grab Miriam? Is he armed? He must be. He works for a defense contractor, ex-military. Isn’t that what someone said? A gun, maybe two, at least. And if so, how is it possible that any of us will survive?

And Cassie. Too far away to warn. Too far away to save. How long will it take them to find her? To hurt her? To take her brain apart? That is, if they haven’t already.

I wonder what it will feel like when Doug drives a knife into my hand or maybe my neck. Because I remember the hate in his eyes back at the diner as he gripped that blood-smeared wall. He is going to want an eye for an eye. But right now, Doug is still frozen there, eyes wide on mine. We are hunter and hunted. Locked in that moment when there’s still a chance to survive.

Run. Toward Cassie. But I’m already so light-headed. A single step and I might crash right to the ground.

In the end it’s Miriam who cracks the stillness. She peers at Doug, still halfway across the room. Of course, she’s confused why this nice new guy is staring that way at Quentin and me. And I know how nice Doug can seem when he tries. Like a totally different person than he actually is. Who knows what he said to convince all of them he wasn’t a threat? And to Miriam, already living in a fog of half-formed memories. She probably pretends to know people all the time just because they seem to know her.

Miriam walks up next to Doug, studies the side of his face with a look of playful consternation. Move away from him, Miriam, I think. He is not who you think he is. But I’m afraid to say a word. To do anything that might make Doug lunge for Miriam. She is so old. It wouldn’t take much to hurt her, to kill her even.

“Look there, I was wrong. Wylie isn’t outside, she’s right here. I could have sworn—” Miriam points one of her bent fingers at me, then waves a hand. “Oh, never mind. Wylie, this is Doug. He and his wife Lexi have been on an errand since you arrived. They’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” And with that, she pats Doug on his big arm and disappears in back with her tray of stitching supplies.

An errand. Miriam knows Doug. He isn’t a stranger accidentally invited in. He isn’t a stranger at all. The world is bent, the corners dark as I turn toward Quentin: What? Why?