Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(39)
Fear is gone, yet it’s still difficult to speak. My tongue feels thick and dry, as though it’s made of cotton. “I promise. Okay? You know I never break a promise.”
She glances at me. “You don’t.”
“So you have to believe me. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure. All right? You just stay in the car and wait for me to bring Georgie back.” I take one of her hands off the wheel and lace our fingers together, wishing that strength was something that could be shared through air or skin.
Briana opens her mouth to protest, but the mines come into view and we both go silent, trying to assess the situation. Her grip tightens painfully as we park behind the chain stretched over the road. The others must have lifted it and gone under; I can see fresh tire tracks in the mud. Though it’s hard to tell through the glittering curtain of rain, there are dim shadows moving next to the mines. Billy is really going to do this.
A fresh sense of urgency surges through my veins, and I secretly welcome the distraction from the choice, the unknown, the past. With one last, reassuring glance at Briana, I get out of the car. She says something I don’t hear just before the door closes.
The downpour is relentless. It pounds at me, making my clothes stick to my body in a sopping mess. Ducking beneath the chain, I shield my eyes and slosh through a puddle toward the entrance. There they are. Billy and his friends parked right by the mouth. They all have flashlights, beacons that guide me to where they stand. Georgie must have lost her enthusiasm when the storm started, because she’s still in the truck, watching us.
I go up to Billy and resist the urge to shove him into the rock wall. “This isn’t funny!” I yell, pushing my hair out of the way, snagging my eyebrow ring in the process. They all turn to me. “Let’s just get out of here and go to the diner. My treat!”
“Yeah, right!” Billy grins, and a drop of rain slides into the gap between his front teeth. “We’re going in. Dylan dared me to touch the pick!”
The pick. It’s on display in one of the tunnels, the very first tool ever used in these mines. Dad took me down to see it once. It was so rusted and moldy I hadn’t wanted to touch it.
“Are you insane?” I snap, swiping at my nose impatiently. “The pick is on the other side of the mines, by the entrance they closed up. Even the workers didn’t use that tunnel anymore!”
This just strengthens the gleam in Billy’s eyes. He brushes past me and starts for the entrance. I stay where I am, trying to decide what to do. Then lightning flashes, illuminating everything for a moment. But it’s long enough to see it, to realize what I’m looking at.
Someone is standing in the entrance to the mines.
Instinctively I blink, convinced it’s a hallucination or a dream. But it doesn’t disappear. The voice speaks in my head again, louder and more clearly than ever before. Alexandra.
Suddenly I can move again, and I stumble back so quickly my heel catches on a rock and I fall. Dylan says my name, reaches for me. Billy has stopped, but I barely notice. “No, no, no … ” I keep scooting away, terror exploding in my chest. The palms of my hands tear on the gravel. Yet I can’t take my eyes away from it. The form is broad-shouldered and tall. There’s no way to mistake it for the gangly boys surrounding me. The darkness swallows his face, and though there’s nothing
to give it away, I know this thing isn’t human. What is it? What is it?
A door slams in the distance, and then warm, solid arms are wrapping around me and helping me up. “Alex, what’s wrong?” a voice shouts in my ear. This one I know. Briana. Finally I shift my gaze to look up at her and rain gets in my eyes. I blink again, and when I glance back at the entrance, it’s empty. Whoever—whatever—was standing there is gone.
“I know you’re still there,” I whisper.
Briana puts her head next to mine. “What?”
That’s when I comprehend that everyone is staring at me. Georgie is outside, huddling next to Billy and shivering. Even she looks bewildered, and she’s accustomed to all my peculiarities. Trembling, I stand up. My wounded palms ache and sting.
“I’m freezing. Let’s get out of here,” I say, clenching my fists to hide the scrapes. The others seem to agree. The boys shut their flashlights off and trudge to their vehicles, muttering about me. Georgie extends her hand, her expression conflicted, but I walk away. We won’t give up on you. They should. They will. One way or another, the pieces of me will keep falling until there’s nothing left.
I get into Briana’s car, and a few seconds later the two of them follow. The seats are soaking and I listen to them squeak as they settle, notes in harmony with the thunder and rain. The engine idles, adding to the noise that blocks all my thoughts.
“Alex?” Briana says, looking at me as if I’m about to detonate. Maybe I am.
“I’m not drunk,” I say dully, leaning my forehead against the cool window. “You can drive me back to my car.”
Still, no one moves. Georgie clears her throat. “I’m sorry I went with Billy. I-I know how you feel about … about driving when … ”
“It’s fine, Georgie.”
She stops talking. The wordlessness becomes so thick it feels like the air itself has become solid. Nothing is distracting me now. I want to tell them everything about the other plane and the memories resurfacing about my father. I wish I could talk about the attacks and the betrayals. I yearn to reveal how I sit outside a house on Sanderson Road almost every night. But I don’t. I don’t say anything at all.