Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(21)

“Find me later,” I say. Before he can say anything else, I slip away.

Someone else calls my name, and I just wave. Blue coolers rest by the water. Faith Carson—the pastor’s daughter—lifts the lid and digs out a bottle. Georgie is surrounded, and her hands move as she talks animatedly. Briana is off to the side, a quieter force, but still a part of the hum in the air. Even though they have secret pains like Francis and unfulfilled dreams, they manage to act as if it’s okay. They can exist with the shadows.

But how do you exist in the darkness?

Smoke curls through the sky. Resentment materializes at my side and wraps his arm around me. “How’s the pity party going?” He squeezes. I don’t shake him off or respond; I just pop the lid of my beer and take a long swig. A bitter taste greets my tongue. The Emotion says something else that I don’t hear, and then I’m alone with his lingering essence and the contents of all those coolers. An antidote to the poison of the past.

Georgie will have to get another designated driver. Tossing aside the empty beer can, I walk to the coolers and get another one. The ice numbs my fingertips. Too bad it can’t numb the rest of me. I glance around and grab another beer for good measure, then slip away to the edge of the beach. I lean my back against a tree and watch the bonfire. It grows brighter and bigger when Billy adds more wood, and more cars pull up, their headlights sweeping across the lake. I drown my sorrows. Laughter drifts through the air. Marty Paulson suddenly leans over to puke, and Faith shrieks.

Time loses meaning. Maybe it’s a minute, maybe it’s an hour. I pull some blades of green-brown grass out of the ground and watch the breeze carry them away, thinking about how easy it is for something to be firmly rooted one moment and gone the next.

“Alex! Where’s Alex?”

Briana’s voice. She’ll be looking for me. Letting out a loud belch, I haul myself up. It’s dark now. How did that happen? I start to make my way toward her. Halfway to the bonfire, though, I stumble and fall. Briana calls my name again, but I just roll over. The damp sand clings to me. For a few moments I stare up at the starless sky, tapping my fingers against my chest so some part of me is still moving. Clouds drift in front of the moon. I wonder if Nate Foster is looking at the same black expanse.

A face fills my vision. It takes me a moment to recognize it in the dim. When I do, though, my heart beats harder and faster. “Oh. You again.”

“Hello, Alex.”

The sound of his voice lurches me into motion. We’ve only spoken once, but I know what’s coming. He’ll start talking about Nate Foster, and mercy, and letting things go when all I’m capable of is holding on tight. I push myself up, swearing, and stumble through the trees to escape him.

He follows me effortlessly. “Alex. Alex, stop.”

Briana calls my name again, though her voice is fainter. My breathing becomes ragged and my head swims, and part of me realizes it’s fruitless to try outrunning a creature that isn’t human. That doesn’t stop me from trying. But I’m not holding my liquor too well tonight, and soon I’m having trouble remembering why I should be avoiding Forgiveness in the first place. He isn’t even attempting to stop me anymore. Instead he just keeps up with my pace, a silent presence.

“Help me,” I snap after a while, tripping over a branch. Forgiveness doesn’t reach for my arm, but I move away as if he has.

“Help you with what?” he asks finally.

Pine needles crunch underfoot. “To find it.” I stop in a circle of trees and look up again, straining to see in the faint moonlight.

“Find what, Alex?”

Forgiveness is next to me now, so close I can feel the temperature of his skin: warm, like the lake after the sun has reached inside the depths with its bright fingers. I hate how this creature says my name. Hate it, and like it.

“The damn rocket!” I snarl at his exquisite features. “What else?”

The Choice doesn’t answer, and I don’t wait for one. I’m whirling again, rushing through the night, trying to forget and remember at the same time. Then the tree line suddenly breaks and we’re on the edge of a playground. My chest heaves and I stare at the red plastic slide. A memory flashes, an image of Mom waiting for me at the bottom. Come on, honey. I promise I’ll catch you.

I throw up.

Gentle hands hold my hair back while I cough and gag. Forgiveness is careful, so careful, not to actually have contact with any other part of me. Shuddering, I make my way to the swings and settle on one. The chains whine.

“Why don’t you just touch me?” I sigh, resting my forehead against the cold links. I close my eyes again. Everything would be so much easier if the choice was just taken from me.

“You know why.” Forgiveness surprises me by sitting in the other swing. It’s an odd sight, such an unearthly being doing something as mundane as swinging.

At this, I meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the part of me that likes to dangle off bridges and hold guns, but I hear myself saying, “I think you want to.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

Nothing seems to rattle him. I push my feet against the ground to make the swing sway. The cries of the rust-covered chains are the only sound between us. “If you’re not going to help me, then leave,” I growl when the silence becomes too loud.