Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(78)
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t here.
“Be right back!” I shout to Missy, blinking rapidly. “I need to check something!” Her response is drowned out by another zealous gust of wind. I slam the door behind me. Thunder rumbles as I rush down the stairs. Rain seeps through my shirt, small pinpricks of cold. There’s something lying by the bottom step. I squint. Is that fur … ?
Then I get closer, and I see. “No!” someone screams. Me. “No! ”
It’s Eggs.
He must have broken her neck—it’s bent at a wrong angle. Her eyes, once so bright and cautious, are unblinking and dull. She did come back. And this was her reward for daring to trust me. Sorrow and Regret come to touch my shoulders, then Regret and I watch as the dark-haired Emotion kneels to close Eggs’s eyes.
All my instincts go against looking at her, and I’m about to turn away when a flash of white catches my eye. There’s a piece of paper sticking out of the dog’s gaping mouth. With trembling fingers I pull it out. A string of slobber comes with it. Dimly I note that the handwriting matches the message he left under my pillow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, it says. I HAVE WHAT YOU WANT MOST. YOU HAVE WHAT I WANT MOST. MEET ME AT THE MINES.
What I want most? I almost vomit then and there, thinking he’s taken Briana or Georgie. But then I think of the one person I haven’t heard from today, the person who isn’t answering his calls or coming home when he should.
Saul. He’s taken Saul.
For a moment all I see is red. Hate and Anger run with me up the stairs and into the apartment. The entire way I mentally chant, Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. He must be too far away or too preoccupied to answer. Forgiveness. Forgiveness. Forgiveness. But I’ve pushed him away too hard. He doesn’t hear, or he chooses not to answer. I go in and grab my keys off the counter. Panic swells in my throat and chest as I hurry to the door again.
“Alex, did I hear you shouting?” Missy asks. She’s turned away from the window, her hands cupping her elbows. Thankfully she can’t see Eggs from her vantage point. “Where are you going?”
The question stops me in my tracks. She won’t believe I’m going to the lake on a night like this. I just saw Andrew this morning. Saul was getting us food and gas. She knows I’m distant from my friends …
“To the cemetery,” I say, swallowing. “I’m going to the cemetery.”
My aunt believes this. Sympathy and Sorrow surround her, looking like angels from the flashes of lightning behind them. She doesn’t tell me it’s not safe, or offer to accompany me. “Take an umbrella” is all she says. I’m going to get him back, I want to tell her. Instead, I leave her there, waiting for someone who can’t come home. Eggs is still at the bottom of the stairs, and I force myself to drag her beneath them so Missy won’t see. Afterwards, I brush my hands off on my shorts and leave her there. I feel my aunt’s eyes follow me as I get into my car and speed off down the dusty road.
The drive to the mines has never felt so long. When I pass the fork that leads to the sheriff’s station, to Frederick, I’m torn. Then I remember yet again what happened to Christine’s family when she dared to defy Dr. Stern. So I keep going, and after hours and years the entrance looms up and swallows me whole. It’s the first time I want to heed all the warning signs. The mines beckon, though. Saul needs me. There is nothing so terrible and wonderful as being needed.
Stopping where the chain dangles across the road, I kill the engine and swing up and out. I leave the door open so the slam doesn’t alert them—pointless, since they probably already heard me coming from a mile away. It occurs to me that I should figure out how to handle this. The treetops rustle and quiver, making a sound like television static. I imagine they’re speaking to me, trying to warn me away. But in this, there is no choice. “Will I survive?” I whisper to Courage, who laces his fingers through mine.
“Do you want to?” he asks right back. The wind lifts the hair off his forehead. He doesn’t look at me. I tear my attention away and follow his gaze to that black mouth. Terror is a strong, fruity taste in my mouth. I know better than to ask the Emotion if he can tell me what’s waiting inside; interfering and all that. There’s nothing left to do but face this. Face them.
It takes twenty-two steps. Each one is louder than the one before it. Courage doesn’t come with me, and it’s strange, actually wanting an Emotion to stay. He doesn’t, though, and when I reach the entrance I don’t let myself pause or hesitate. The storm illuminates the tunnel in erratic flashes.
My pulse skips a beat when I see Dr. Stern sitting near the elevator, watching my approach with a shrewdness he didn’t possess before. They actually brought chairs in for this. Travis stands beside him, grinning. He looks exactly like his picture: mischievous and big-nosed and dirty.
“Drop the gun, please,” Dr. Stern commands in a way that makes it clear he’s used to being obeyed. When I don’t, his eyes narrow. “Or you’ll never find out where we’re keeping him,” he adds.
Urgency makes my tongue thick and dry. “Where is he?” I put my finger on the trigger, tempted to shoot him in the knee just to make that confidence disappear.
“All in good time,” he replies, infuriatingly calm. “I want to speak with you first.”
Still, my eyes scan the shadows. There’s only the three of us. When I continue to hesitate, impatience flickers behind those glasses. The old man waves a hand to the chair across from him. “Sit.”