Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(35)

I grit my teeth and yank the steering wheel back, just barely managing to stay on the gravel. Metal screeches on metal, and the inside of my door has begun to fold in. What do I do, what do I do? Can’t call anyone, I’ll be dead before they can—

The Taurus hits me again, and now he stays against my car. It takes all my strength to keep the wheel straight, and I’m not screaming anymore. Instead, another Emotion appears in the seat beside me. A hard, tiny smile flits across his thin lips as he tightly grips my shoulder. Rage crackles through me, making the blood boil in my veins, making me see red.

The man in the Taurus pulls away, readying for another strike. He thinks I’m weak. He thinks I’m content being a victim. Not this time. I do what I couldn’t the night of the accident: I fight back.

I see Surprise touch my attacker just before I jerk the steering wheel to the left and shatter his world.

Maybe it was because of our ever-increasing velocity, or maybe my anger gave me strength he didn’t have, but the damage is far more substantial from this collision. Those eyes behind the mask scrunch in pain just before he slams on the brakes. Without thinking I stop too, flying forward to search for the gun. It’s next to my heel. Then I’m jumping out and swinging the barrel in the attacker’s direction. He hurriedly shifts into reverse. Running at the Taurus, I fire off three shots. The sound of them is distant, as if someone else is pulling the trigger. Bang. Bang. Bang.

My aim is terrible. One hits his headlight. Glass sprinkles to the ground. One hits the grill. One hits the windshield, just to the right of the man’s head.

Then another sound joins the gunshots, coming from him, but I’m so removed, so blinded by fury, that I don’t know what it is. The Taurus, now whining, continues reversing and spins in a circle. Dust gets in my eyes and throat. I keep the gun raised. There’s no point, though, because once the dust clears, he’s gone. The wheeze of the engine fades. I stay where I am, the clouds still roiling above me. Geese honk and flap across the somber expanse, then they’re gone, too.

There has never been a silence like this. So devastating, so confusing, so painful. No, that’s a lie. There was one other silence similar to now. Though I try not to remember that night, I do remember being in the hospital room after, when Missy tearfully told me I was the only one left. I lay there beneath those mint-colored blankets, listening to the sound of my heart beating on the monitor, and I existed. I didn’t absorb or process or think. Alex Tate was gone, and in that moment there was just a girl with skin and blood and bones and organs. I didn’t recognize myself, and I don’t now.

The adrenaline is leaving my veins, and soon I hear that sound again in my memory. The one coming from the man in the ski mask as I shot at him.

He was laughing.

Slowly, I return to my car. I get in, close the damaged door. Grip the steering wheel tight, as if I’m still fighting to stay on the road. The normal thing to do would be to call the sheriff. But those words are ringing in my head, paralyzing me: Tell anyone about this, we go after your precious Saul and Missy next. The threat probably applies to this situation as well.

So I don’t call anyone. I don’t cry. I just take a breath, shift gears, and drive the rest of the way to the lake.

At least now I know that I’m capable of using the gun.





FOURTEEN


Someone left their car doors open and the radio blaring, so Elvis is crooning to the entire lake when I get there. Joe must be in a wistful mood, because it’s one of the ballads. I park and get out, thankful that my legs aren’t shaking anymore. It’s dark enough now that no one will notice the damage to my car unless they’re looking for it. Georgie spots me right away. She’s well on her way to getting drunk, because she leaves Billy and gives me a fierce hug.

“We won’t give up on you, you know,” she whispers in my ear. Her breath smells like beer. I pat her back and start to respond, but she’s already flying away, back to her flock. A few of my classmates greet me, and I nod. Briana stands near the fire, the orange and black lights flickering over her face. She smiles and waves. I wave back and find the cooler. Just like every other time, I take out a can and go to a place empty of conversations or people. This time it’s the shore. The sand is cold and damp, but I sit down anyway. I pop the lid on my beer and take a sip.

To keep myself from reliving what just happened on the road, I picture Revenge. The lyrics to the song echo across the still-thawing waters. Images of my friend change to memories of sitting outside the Fosters’ house with him beside me. All the expectations, all the promises.

Suddenly Forgiveness is here, wrists dangling on his knees as he looks out over the lake. It’s my fault, really, for thinking about Nate Foster and how old he looked hiding in his car that night.

“Change is the law of life,” Forgiveness says. Usually he lets us have a few moments of quiet. “And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.” Finished, he looks at me and sees my questioning frown. “John F. Kennedy.”

I focus on a house in the distance, old man Holland’s place. There’s a local myth that he’s really a ghost, but the stench surrounding him when he visits the diner says otherwise. Like me, Holland has lost most of the family he had left in the world. Just his bottle and his bitterness. Am I on my way to becoming him?

“Never had something from the other plane quote a president at me,” I comment, hiding my thoughts as best I can.