Escape The Dark (Book 2): Fearful World

by Fawkes, K. M.

  But he didn’t question Ella. She looked nervous, and he got the feeling that there was something in all this that she didn’t want to talk about. That was fine. God knew there were plenty of things he hadn’t wanted to talk about since arriving at the island. Everyone was entitled to a few secrets.

  “Come on,” Ella said, “I’ll show you how to use that gun properly.”

  She pulled him a few yards away from Chase and Ella, into a clearing. She lifted the rifle and nestled it against his shoulder.

  “You want good pressure here,” she said. “Ideally you’d be able to practice by bracing the barrel against something, but you can’t really do that out here, so good shoulder pressure will help you stabilize. You’re right-handed?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay,” she said. “Your left hand should be a little farther forward. That’s right.”

  “Why didn’t Chase tell me these things?” Adam asked. His grip on the gun already felt more natural.

  Ella shrugged. “He probably doesn’t know.”

  “I thought he was the best shooter here.” Adam didn’t trouble to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.

  “He’s self-taught, I think. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He just came up with a method that works for him—although, to give him his proper credit, it does seem to work,” Ella said. “He’s a decent shot. There. Do you see that?”

  “See what?”

  “It’s a pigeon.”

  “Can you eat pigeon?”

  “Of course you can. Careful, though, you don’t want to spook it or it’ll fly, and then you’ll never hit it. Okay, take a deep breath, visualize the shot, and squeeze the trigger as you exhale.”

  Adam breathed in. He imagined the path of the bullet from his gun to the bird in the clearing. Breathing out slowly, he braced the gun against his shoulder and squeezed.

  BANG!

  “You hit it!” Ella cried.

  Adam lowered the gun and stepped into the clearing. He followed her to the place where the pigeon lay. “I’m surprised it wasn’t blown to smithereens,” he said.

  “That gun uses birdshot,” Ella said. “If you had buckshot in there, it probably would have been. Pick that up.”

  Adam stooped and collected his kill. “It’s so small,” he said.

  “It’s enough for everyone to have a bite or two,” Ella said. “We’ll serve it for dinner tonight—along with the boar, of course. That way there’ll be some variety on the table. People will like that. If we can keep them happy, maybe they won’t fight.”

  Adam grinned. He couldn’t help feeling proud. For the second night in a row, he had provided.

  Chapter 10

  Olivia ran back up to the house and came down again with a wheelbarrow. Adam and Chase loaded the boar into the barrow, and Adam laid his pigeon beside it. His contribution was small, he knew, but he was proud of it nonetheless. And unlike the previous day’s fishing trip and the massive halibut, he felt he’d actually gotten the pigeon himself.

  The group started back to the house, Olivia pushing the wheelbarrow. Adam was impressed by her strength. That boar had been heavy, and the ground here was uneven. She didn’t seem to have much trouble, though. Ella walked alongside her, one hand on the boar, making sure the animals didn’t topple out of the wheelbarrow.

  Chase hung back a bit. At first, Adam thought he was tired from the strain of lifting the boar—Adam was tired himself. But when they came to the edge of the forest and emerged onto the green, the girls pulled farther ahead and Chase fell farther behind. He wasn’t recovering his strength. If anything, he was getting worse.

  “You okay?” Adam asked him.

  “Dehydrated,” Chase said. “Olivia always says I need to remember to drink more water, and then I never bring a bottle out with me. Stupid.”

  “You gonna make it?” Adam asked.

  “Sure, we’re almost back. It’s no big deal.”

  Adam regarded the younger man. He was pale. Dehydration could account for that, and it would certainly explain his sudden fatigue. He was also sweating, and that would absolutely cause dehydration. But why was he sweating so profusely? That didn’t really make sense. It wasn’t that hot out, and they hadn’t exerted themselves that much. Adam himself didn’t even feel warm.

  And Chase’s eyes were dilated, too. That wasn’t a symptom of dehydration. That was a symptom of something else altogether. Something Adam knew all too well.

  He recognized those sweats. He’d suffered them himself during his stint in rehab. He’d awoken to soaked bedsheets, chilled and feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all. He’d sat huddled in layers of clothes, feeling as if he’d never be warm, shaking like a leaf and sweating through everything he owned.

  He knew the look of dilated pupils. He’d seen his own in the mirror. Those first few days of withdrawal, Adam had felt as though he didn’t even known himself. He had looked like a stranger, like someone he didn’t even recognize.

  He knew the symptoms, too, from seeing them on Cody and his friends on the yacht. When their supply of party drugs had finally been exhausted, they’d all gone into painful withdrawal. It had been a frightening time. Adam knew how painful it was to kick a drug habit, and how intimidating it could be. It was almost impossible to do something like that alone, with no support from friends, loved ones, or a rehab community.

  Was it possible that Chase was suffering from withdrawal?

  On one hand, it seemed unlikely. The ten of them were sharing living quarters. If someone had been sneaking off to get high, surely it would have been noticed. And Adam had never had the feeling that Chase was high around him, and that was something he thought he was fairly good at recognizing. He had always known when Cody was messed up. If Chase had been using, he had been covering his tracks remarkably well.

  Then again, it was possible he was just good at sneaking around. Adam had known people in his NA group who had concealed their drug habits for years—kept things secret from their bosses, their families, everyone in their lives. And Chase did seem like a smart kid. He could have been concealing a habit. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  There was also the chance that Chase had a drug habit and it wasn’t a secret at all. Hadn’t Ella pointed out to him that Chase was Charles’ favorite child? Hadn’t he seen for himself the special treatment Chase received from this father and uncle? They acted as if he could do no wrong, as if everything he touched turned to gold. They probably wouldn’t flinch if they learned he was using. They would just excuse it by saying he’d been under a lot of stress and deserved to let off some steam.

  But whatever the case, Adam thought, if Chase was using, he would need help to quit. His drug use couldn’t continue. Even if his family was fine with it, Adam knew from far too much firsthand experience what an addiction could do to a person. He had almost ruined his own life with drugs. He had certainly ended his career as an actor.

  And then there was Cody. If Cody hasn’t been an addict, he probably wouldn’t have succumbed to paranoia in his final days. And that paranoia, as much as anything else, had been responsible for his death. Adam knew that his actions had been to blame. He would never let himself off the hook for what had happened. But he also knew that he, Artem and Sara would never have tried to drug Cody’s drink that fateful night if Cody hadn’t been a suicide risk. And that probably wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Cody’s drug cravings.

  Adam couldn’t watch someone else die that way. He didn’t like Chase much, and he didn’t trust him. But maybe Chase’s uncomfortable personality quirks, like Cody’s, were due to chemical interference. Maybe his true nature was gentler than what Adam had seen so far.

  At any rate, he had to try to help if he could. If Chase was struggling with drugs, it would be better for all of them if he could recover smoothly. Adam’s experience would be just what was needed to make that happen.

  He hung back a little farther from the girls, hoping that Chase would tak
e the cue and fall back with him, and Chase did. He actually looked a little relieved to be slowing his pace.

  He must be feeling sick, Adam thought, suddenly feeling sorry for Chase. No wonder he’d seemed so cold and insensitive when he was talking about his mother—he wasn’t feeling well! In a way, this was actually kind of a relief. Adam could understand being a bit of a jerk when you were jonesing for a hit. There was nothing admirable about it, but it did make sense.

  “Hey Chase, can I talk to you?” Adam asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”

  How to broach this? You couldn’t just go asking someone you hardly knew whether or not he was a drug addict. If Adam’s suspicions were wrong, Chase would be deeply offended. And even if Adam was right, Chase might get defensive and refuse to talk about it.

  He decided to draw upon the knowledge he’d gained in his NA meetings. “People are more likely to share when you’ve shared something with them first,” his counselor had said. And it was true. Adam had always felt more like talking in meetings when someone else took the floor first.

  “There’s something I haven’t told anyone about myself,” he said. “And I thought you might be likely to understand.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m a recovering drug addict.”

  Chase looked at him. “I know that,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “I mean, you know my sister read those magazine articles about you,” Chase said. “I’ve seen a few of them. They’re always writing about how you’re falling off the wagon.”

  Adam shook his head. “They hardly got any of it right,” he said. “I’ve been sober for years. They just printed that crap every time I went outside in sweats, as a justification for why I looked like I’d let myself go.”

  Chase rolled his eyes. “Gotcha. But, I mean, I still knew you used to be an addict.”

  “That’s why I had to stop acting,” Adam said. “Nobody wanted me on set anymore because I was such a mess all the time. And then my friend Cody—he’s the one who owned the yacht I came in on—finally checked me into rehab. I got a sponsor and started going to meetings and cleaned myself up.”

  “Cool story.” Chase didn’t seem to be very interested.

  “It’s an important story,” Adam said. “And I just wish I’d talked about it more with Cody. Because even though his drug problem wasn’t as bad as mine was when I went into rehab, it escalated. It got worse. And in the last few months before he died, he was a mess. He tried to get sober, but he couldn’t overcome his paranoia.”

  Chase glanced at Adam. “Is that why he jumped off the boat?”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, gritting his teeth through the lie. “He couldn’t take it.”

  “Shit.”

  “I wanted to tell you this,” Adam said, “In case…well, in case you had any issues of your own that I might be able to help with. I wanted you to know what kind of experiences I’ve had in my life, and what kind of knowledge I’m working with.”

  Chase sighed. “Am I that obvious?”

  “I just know what I’m looking for, that’s all,” Adam said. “So what’s your drug?”

  “Opioids. Oxy, mostly. I had a dealer back on the mainland, and I brought a big stash of it with me when we flew out here. I scaled back my use, because I knew I had to make it last. But I just ran out.”

  “That stuff’s a beast to kick.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Chase said, laughing wryly.

  “How long have you been using?”

  “Oh, God, I don’t know. Years. On and off since I was sixteen.”

  “Christ. Does Olivia use it?”

  “No, she’s too smart for that. She used to yell at me about it, when she caught me. She didn’t know I did it regularly, though. She thought it was just an every-once-in-a-while thing.” Chase grinned humorlessly. “My dealer used to say I was the most high-functioning pill popper she’d ever met. She used to say I was going to be a CEO someday because people who can manage a high are destined to go far in business.”

  “That’s crazy, you know,” Adam said. “That’s one of those things users tell themselves to make their habit feel like a skill, or an accomplishment. There’s nothing to be proud of about being able to get through a day while you’re high.”

  “Is that what they told you in rehab?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “Among other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re not more fun when you’re high, you’re just more annoying. You feel like you’re a cooler, more interesting person because literally everything seems cooler and more interesting when you’re on drugs. But to everyone around you, all the people who are sober, you’re just acting like an imbecile.”

  “I wonder what they’d say now,” Chase said.

  “What do you mean?” Adam asked.

  “Well, nobody uses drugs anymore to feel cool at parties, do they?” Chase asked. “Nowadays, we get high to forget the world’s ending around us.”

  “Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Well, I guess they’d say that getting loaded doesn’t make our mothers any less dead.” It was a harsh thing to say, he knew, but he also knew from experience that addicts in recovery didn’t need to be babied. They needed tough love.

  And maybe he also wanted to see if Chase would flinch at the mention of his mother, now that his walls were down.

  Chase didn’t flinch. But he didn’t laugh it off either, the way he had earlier. Instead he looked thoughtful.

  “You’re saying it’s all still going to be there when we sober up,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Adam agreed. “And I guess you’re sobering up now.”

  “I guess I am,” Chase agreed.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I mean, I’ve been better.”

  Adam nodded. “Even if withdrawal didn’t fuck with your head, it completely messes up your system physically. I get that. It sucks. In a way it’s probably good that you’re out of the pills. You can’t be tempted to backslide and take more. You’ll have to quit cold turkey.”

  “It’s only been about a day,” Chase said. He looked a little spooked. “How bad is this going to get?”

  “Considering you’ve been using for years? It might get bad. I don’t know. It was bad for me, but people are different.” Adam thought back to the boat. Cody and his friends had all been miserable when the drugs had run out, but to varying degrees. “No matter how bad it gets, though, you’ll be able to get through it. It won’t last forever.”

  “My dad and uncle are going to know.”

  “They won’t have to. You can just tell them you’ve got the flu or something.”

  “You won’t rat me out?”

  “No,” Adam said. “I’ve got no reason to do that.”

  “Really?”

  “If you still had a supply, I’d want to talk to them,” Adam admitted. “Just to make sure you had the support you needed to quit. But you’ve got no choice but to quit.” He hesitated. “You’re not lying, are you? Your supply’s all gone?”

  “Oh, it’s gone,” Chase said ruefully. “I wouldn’t be doing this hunt all sick and sweaty if I had an alternative. I’m not quitting because I want to, you know.”

  “It’s for the best anyway, though,” Adam said.

  “I know you’re probably right,” Chase said. “I’ll be glad when it’s over, I’m sure.”

  “You will be. And look, you can come to me any time you want, okay? I know that might sound kind of weird or condescending right now, but I don’t know how I would have gotten through my own transition to sober living without my sponsor. He was a real lifesaver, and I don’t just mean figuratively. So if you ever want anyone to talk to about any of this stuff…just remember, I’ve been there, and I’m not going to judge, okay?”

  “Thanks, Adam,” Chase said, flashing him a smile. It wasn’t the toothy smile Adam had grown used to seeing from both the Birkins and the McTerrells; it s
eemed genuine. “You’re a really decent guy. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too,” Adam said, and for the first time, he sort of meant it. Maybe he had judged Chase too harshly. Maybe he had judged them all too harshly. And if the things he had been through in his life could be put to good use here, helping this young man recover from his addiction, that was something to be happy about.

  Feeling better than he had in days, Adam jogged across the green toward the main building.

  Chapter 11

  “We don’t take the boar straight into the kitchen, do we?” Adam asked.

  Chase laughed. “Definitely not. Imagine the mess. Mrs. Birkin would lose her mind.”

  Olivia laughed. “She’d probably pass out right in the pool of blood.”

  “And make blood angels on the floor.”

  Ella caught Adam’s gaze and rolled her eyes briefly at the McTerrell siblings’ humor. “We do the butchering in one of the outbuildings,” she said.

  “Which one? You didn’t show me any place that looked like animals were being butchered there.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to show it to you on your first day,” Ella said. “It might have freaked you out.”

  “You think I scare that easily?”

  “Well, now I don’t. I didn’t know you then.”

  That was true. Adam was frankly amazed at how well it felt like he and Ella knew each other already. He’d spent more time with her than with any of the other residents of the Santa Joaquina, probably because they were both outsiders. Already he felt as though he’d be losing his mind if it weren’t for her calming presence and voice of reason.

  Olivia had run ahead, leaving Ella to push the wheelbarrow, and the others followed her to a building on the far side of the main clubhouse, down by the dock. Inside was a plastic table that looked as though, in another life, it might have been used for picnics. Now it was marked by several stains that Adam didn’t want to think too hard about. Several sharp implements—axes and knives—hung along the walls.