Three (Article 5 #3)(25)

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” he said. I suspected he was talking about the boys who’d trapped us, but I didn’t feel particularly lucky. Then his gaze returned to the group, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was silent for a long moment, and in it I held my breath, feeling too exposed and vulnerable.

“Are you really all that’s left?” When no one answered, he nodded gravely. “So it’s true. The safe house is gone.”

*

AS the guards lowered their weapons the circle buzzed with whispers. My own blood was humming. How long had they tracked us? We’d scouted the area and posted perimeter guards each night—the possibility of us being watched without knowing it was unnerving.

“My apologies for our lack of hospitality,” said the man. “These days it’s better to be cautious.”

“Who are you?” Chase’s voice was raised in suspicion. His hand found mine and tightened.

“They’re from the settlement—the one in the South that Jesse was talking about—right?” asked Sarah. She smiled broadly, one hand on her round belly.

“Long as they’re not with those crazy kids,” Sean said.

The man’s mouth twitched.

“I can assure you the boys you encountered are not part of our group, despite our invitations,” he answered, leading Sean to stand a little straighter.

This bothered me; I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone who spoke of those devil children kindly. Still, I wondered how they’d gotten out here, and who, if anyone, watched over them.

“My name is Aiden DeWitt,” the man continued. “We’re friendly, despite what it may look like. If you come with me I can offer you a place to stay, food, and protection.”

Another surge of whispers. His name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“It’s the scars,” I heard Billy say to someone beside him. “That’s why I didn’t recognize him. His mug shot must have come up a hundred times on the mainframe.”

I remembered then. Aiden DeWitt. Dr. Aiden DeWitt. He was one of the five suspects thought to be in collaboration with the sniper, as was I. Instantly, I was back in the Wayland Inn, listening to the FBR report as Wallace adjusted the radio: Dr. Aiden Dewitt, responsible for the murders of five FBR officers during a routine home inspection. And then I was on the street, outside the blood donation bus in the Square in Knoxville, and my photo was posted beside his. He’d looked younger when it was taken, maybe forty, and his face had been smooth and free of scars.

News of his attack on the MM and his escape was all the gossip at the soup kitchen five years ago. The crime had occurred someplace in Virginia. My mother even wondered if he might run west, toward our town. As much as the act frightened her, I think she thought of him as a hero. I wondered what she’d think if she knew I was here now, before him.

“Why should we trust you?” Chase asked. “Weren’t you just shooting at us?”

“Common mistake,” said Jack sarcastically.

DeWitt took a step closer. “Because you’re out of other options, Jennings.”

Chase’s hand gripped mine so hard I winced. My mouth went dry.

“How do you…”

DeWitt lowered his gaze to mine. “How do I know you? I know many things.” He was speaking softly now, but those closest could still hear. “I know you two need protection now more than ever.”

An ice-cold finger of fear traced up my spine.

“You’re them,” said Sean. “Or him. Whatever. You’re Three.”

A hand closed in the back of my shirt, and I was surprised to see Rebecca over my shoulder staring evenly at Dr. DeWitt. Seeing her brave like that made me stand taller.

“All in good time,” said DeWitt. He backed away without further explanation, then turned and began to walk toward the main road where we’d entered the grove.

“That’s ominous,” commented Sean.

We followed DeWitt anyway.

It became apparent as we were herded after the doctor that the debris on the far side of the grove had been placed there deliberately. The junked cars and old washing machines on either side of the street created a sieve, one that grew tighter and tighter until we were forced to walk only two or three abreast with those on horseback flanking us. It was a human trap, a strategic move to capture any wanderers between two defensible rows, and though we followed him blindly, I couldn’t help but feel impressed.

In front of me, Sarah latched herself to Billy’s arm and leaned against him, feet dragging. He glanced back at me, cheeks red, and then trained his eyes straight ahead.

“Any ideas how he knows us?” I asked Chase under my breath.

“One or two,” he answered. “But no clue what he plans to do with it.”

“Maybe he’s just showing off,” whispered Sean over my shoulder. “Trying to get in your heads.”

“It worked,” I said. Nothing good had ever come of Chase or I being recognized.

The road gave way to a fenced area barricaded with parts of cars and houses and mounds of rock and brick and surrounded by a moat that ran the length of the fence like an empty river. Only one narrow strip of ground led to a gate, and it was blocked by a metal sheath and sheltered by an ancient, hunching oak, its branches dripping with gray moss.