“I’m already chosen. I know they’re coming after me. I have nothing to lose,” I say defiantly. “But I can promise you I won’t go down without a fight. I know my mother was taken. I know she got away. I will, too, but not before taking every one of them down.”
She stops at the edge of our driveway and stares at me. “You know about your mother?”
“This surprises you?”
“Did she tell you? What do you know?” she commands, grabbing my arm.
A jolt shoots through me, and the pendant tugs against my neck.
“Oh my God.” I shrug her off, disbelief washing over me. “You’re one of them.”
I back toward the house, my heart hammering in my chest. What the hell is going on in this pathetic little town? Is everyone a soul-eating demon or whatever these things are?
“I am not your enemy,” she says, reaching for me. “You have to listen to me.”
I step away, shaking my head. “You are one of them, so yes, you are my enemy. You marked your own family as a sacrifice. What kind of monster does that? What are you?”
“I am not a monster. I had a plan. If you’ll just listen to me … ”
“No. You are killing innocent people. You took my best friend.” My words catch in my throat. “She had a baby, and you took her from him. No. I will not listen to you, but I will stop you.” I turn and march toward my house, tears of pain and disbelief stinging my eyes.
“This is much bigger than you, Caitlyn. Much too elaborate for a sixteen-year-old girl,” she shouts. “Don’t you think someone would have stopped this by now if it were possible?”
“Someone almost did. Once,” I say, turning to face her. “There is a way to stop you, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
I walk inside the house, closing the door on her frozen figure. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands shake uncontrollably. Tears stream down my face as I start up the stairs. This is all too much. I can’t do this.
Chas is gone. Parker doesn’t have a mommy anymore.
My body convulses, wracked with sobs. My breath comes in short gasps and my vision swims. I have to get out of here. I can’t bear to be trapped in this horrid little town any longer.
I throw back the curtains in my room and fling the window open, but that only makes things worse. The fog has begun to thicken, suffocating the town in its grip. The bells have started to toll. It’s about to start again. They’re coming back, and I have no doubt that tonight they’ll come for me.
I close the window, lock it and pull the curtains closed. I know it won’t keep them out, but doing this makes me feel somewhat safe.
I stumble into my closet and remove my Klonopin stash from its hiding spot. If I’m going to die tonight, I may as well relieve some of the tension. It’s not like it’ll matter anyway.
I take the bottle and pour a few pills into my hand. I’d love to pop the entire bottle into my mouth and end it now. Just float away on a dream. But I can’t do that to Mitch. He’d probably be the one to find me. He doesn’t need any more trauma in his life.
I place all but three of them back into the bottle, then grab a glass of water. I toss the remaining pills into my mouth and swallow before I can change my mind.
I throw myself onto my bed and wait for the blissful peace to wash over me.
Chapter Fourteen
I have no idea what time it is. All I know is my body feels light as air. I feel glorious—unstoppable—like nothing can hurt me. But I know better. There’s something out there that wants me, and one of these nights, it will come and take me and rip me to shreds.
The funny thing is, I honestly don’t care.
All that matters right now is my bed and this light, tingly, euphoric feeling coursing through me. At least if they come and take me tonight I won’t feel my limbs being torn from my body. I won’t feel a thing.
Come and get me, assholes.
I’m ready to go. I’m ready to leave all of these small-town idiots behind. They won’t miss me anyway. It’s almost like all of this was planned. Like they brought me here so they could pick me off and be rid of me.
Didn’t Nana say she had a plan? Was this it?
Fucking Nana and her scary, betraying self. How can you mark your own flesh and blood to be murdered? Did my dad know? Is he in on it, too? Is he a Redeemer? He doesn’t seem like a monster. Now Judy—that one is definitely a monster, but she’s not even from here originally. She only lives here because she loves money and my dad makes plenty of that. Even more than he did as a big shot banker in Tacoma—back when she seduced him away from me and Mom.
Bitch.
Something heavy and hot sits on my chest. My right hand glides toward it, grabbing hold of the pendant.
Hello, old friend.
Why is it so heavy? It literally feels like something is sitting on me, stifling me. I have to take it off before it suffocates me. With airy hands, I lift the necklace over my head and place it on the nightstand.
Free at last.
I wonder what time it is? I’m hungry. I want a big juicy hamburger and a large order of fries. I would kill for one right now.
I seriously need food.
I sit up, placing my hands on the bed to steady myself. Total head rush. I need to get it together if I’m going to go downstairs. I need to focus. If Judy knows …
Screw it. Who cares? I’ll be dead by the end of the week anyway. Unless, of course, I can figure out how to use these magical powers or whatever they are. You would think Mom would have sacrificed the dramatics and just come out with it. Why did she have to go all super-secret-prophecy-of-the-chosen-one on me? “Go forth, Caitlyn. Find your destiny. Release your powers. Stop the bad guys.”
Yeah, okay, why don’t you tell me how, and I’ll do that?
Whatever. I failed at this just like I have so many other things in life. Death can’t be so bad, can it? Besides, Chas will be waiting for me, and we can raise all kinds of havoc in heaven—or hell—wherever we end up. Who knows if they even exist? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
I stand and get my bearings straight before going downstairs to spend what may be my last night with my “family.” I promise myself I’ll behave to the best of my ability as I slowly make my way down the stairs.
I peek around the corner and notice my father dozing in his recliner. Mitch is sprawled across the sofa, thumbing through a comic book. Judy is nowhere to be seen.
“Whatcha reading?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper so as not to wake Dad.
“A comic. I’ve read it about a hundred times already. I’m so bored. I can’t wait for this to be over.” He sighs dramatically and pushes the comic onto the floor.
“Me too.”
“That was quite the stunt you pulled today.” I jump, not expecting Judy’s voice. She sits at the table, sipping something from a tumbler. It’s obvious she’s two miles past tipsy. She looks ragged and worn—dark circles rim her eyes, making it look like she hasn’t slept in weeks. She looks a lot older than her forty years without all the makeup and perfectly done up hair.
“What the hell were you thinking, getting up there and embarrassing us like that? Do you have any idea how crazy you sounded?”
About as crazy as you sound right now, worrying about your reputation.
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” I try to sound sincere. I fail.
“It’s too late for that.” She shakes her head as she swirls the amber liquid in her glass before finishing it off. “The damage is done. You’re like a tornado. No matter where we go, our lives will always be in a constant state of turmoil while you’re around.”
She stands shakily and places the glass in the sink before walking over to me. “With any luck, we’ll be rid of you tonight.”
If I weren’t so numb right now, the words would sting. Instead, they roll right off me.
“If that happens, we’ll both be lucky,” I say.
“The
y’re not taking you.”
I turn to look at Mitch’s terrified eyes staring up at me, and my heart breaks.
“I know, buddy. We’re just … joking around.” I move toward him and stumble.
Judy grabs my arm and turns me to face her. “Look at me.”
I divert my eyes to the ground.
“I said, look at me.” She takes a candle from the table and holds it between us. She grabs my chin, forcing my face to hers, looking deep into my eyes. The stench of alcohol on her breath makes me want to puke. “Where did you get them?”
“Get what?” I try to pull away from her, but I have zero strength, and even though she’s drunk, she’s still surprisingly strong.
“Don’t lie to me. I know the signs. I read up on addiction before you got here so I would know what to look for. You’re high.”
“I am not,” I say, finally twisting away from her.
“Stop fighting.” Mitch’s voice is small and tired.
I twist out of Judy’s grip and move toward him.”Want to play a game?”
“How about Battleship?” He bounds off the sofa to his room before I can even answer.
“Enjoy yourself,” Judy says, pouring herself another drink. “Your days with him are numbered.” She takes her drink, staggering a bit as she walks down the hall to her bedroom.
***
Mitch and I play two very long rounds of Battleship, my father’s snores punctuating the intensity of the game. When we’ve finished the second game, Mitch asks for a third, but I’m already bored with it. Judy hasn’t come out of her room since her biting remarks earlier, and I’m okay with that. I’d rather spend my last few hours with Mitch anyway.
“I’m hungry.” He flops down on the couch and stares at the ceiling.
“Me, too. How about a PB & J?”
“I’m sick of sandwiches. I want some real food. A cheeseburger would be so good right now. Or pizza. Man, I would really like some pizza.”
My stomach growls when he says the word. I would love nothing more than to bite into a thick, cheesy slice right now.
“When this is over, maybe we can drive to the city and have huge slices of deep-dish,” I say.
“I’m going to eat a whole pizza myself,” he says with a smile. “A large one.”
“You’ll explode,” I say, tickling him. “You’ll get so fat you’ll float away like a balloon.”
“No, I won’t.” He starts to giggle at the thought. His laugh is infectious, and soon I’m giggling along with him.
His smile fades, and the mood in the room grows somber, “I wish that could really happen.”
“Why won’t it?” I ask. “We’ll just hop in the car and drive.”
“We can’t. If what Mom said is true, they’re going to take you away.”
I don’t know how to respond. I want to tell him they won’t take me, but what’s the point?
“I’ll make sure you get your pizza,” I say, offering him the only promise I know I can keep. “But for now, we get sandwiches.”
“Where do you think you’ll go?”
I really don’t want to talk about this, and the fact that he’s on the path to accepting my demise is a bit unsettling. Still, I know that as an eight-year-old, he’s curious, and possibly seeking comfort by knowing what will happen.
“I don’t know.”
He climbs onto one of the chairs and watches as I spread peanut butter across a slice of bread. “Are you going to die?”
“Everyone dies eventually.” It’s the only non-answer I can think of.
“Why are you two being so morbid?” Dad asks.
I wonder how much of our conversation he heard. “Do you want a sandwich?” I ask, happy to change the subject.
“I’ll pass. If I have to eat another sandwich I just might turn into a loaf of bread.” He walks to the cupboard and grabs a bag of chips. “I’d kill for some real food right now. I could really go for some pizza.”
“We were just talking about that,” Mitch says. Obviously, Dad has been awake for a while.
“I say once this is all over, we drive into the city.” I can’t help but smile. He’s going to ensure my promise holds good. Does he know what’s going to happen to me?
I give Mitch his sandwich and then place a hand on Dad’s shoulder, checking for the intense jolt that hits me whenever I touch a Redeemer. It’s never happened before, but I need to be sure.
I feel nothing, but it usually doesn’t come at me until there is skin-to-skin contact. He places his hand over mine and I brace myself, expecting an electric shock of sorts, but nothing happens. Relief floods through me. He’s not one of them. He’s just Dad.
I grab my sandwich and sit across from Mitch. Dad sits at the head of the table cracking jokes. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. He’s been so sullen the last few days the change of attitude is nice. I could actually get used to this. The Klonopin must be wearing off because I’m starting to feel things. Actual emotions tickle the edges of the haze. I don’t want to go—die—whatever. I want to stay.
What if I can stop what’s happening? I have no clue what I’m capable of, or even what it is I need to do, but what if I can stave them off? What if I really can fix this?
But how? Damn it, Mom. Why did you have to be so vague?
Mitch and Dad talk football, making plans to catch a game when they go to the city for pizza. I drink in Mitch’s cheerful excitement, watching the way his blue eyes sparkle as he talks about his favorite player. He and my dad have the same smile, the same sense of humor, the same interests.
I want to go with them. I want to partake in their day of fun. I hate football, but I’d endure it if I could just be with them.
I stand up from the table, leaving the boys to their sports talk. I toss my paper plate and walk into the living room. I pull back the curtains and stare out the window into the dark, heavy mist hanging in the air. Although I can only see about a foot beyond the window, everything appears calm, the mist still. Resting. Waiting.
I may never see sunshine again. I may never feel rain on my skin, smell the fresh scent of wet pine wafting in the air, or the sounds of birds chirping. I might never eat pizza, or see the next big movie. I’ll never hear Mitch laugh again, and I’ll never see Trevor.
Trevor.
His sparkling eyes, his crooked smile and bowlegged walk. I’ll never feel his arms around me again, or lay my head on his chest, breathing in his woodsy smell.
I want to go to him. I have to see him.
Maybe I can slip away unnoticed. Maybe I can use the tunnels to get to his house and see him just one last time.
But, what happens if the Redeemers come for me and I’m not here? Would they know I was at his house? If so, would they find me there? I can’t put him and his family in danger like that. I’d never get past Mason anyway. I have no idea what he is, but he has to be working for them.
My eyes begin to cloud with tears, and I silently slip upstairs to compose myself. I feel so defeated. I can’t help but feel I’m about to lose everything. Even the little things I took for granted will be gone.
Monique’s face invades my thoughts, and a newfound sense of defiance rises from my stomach. She, her hoax of a Christian father, and the rest of the red-robes can suck it. I won’t let them defeat me. If nothing else, I’m going to fight like hell when they come for me.
I have to.
I change out of my sweats and throw on a pair of jeans and a fresh sweatshirt. I slip on my best running shoes, pull my hair back into a ponytail, and shake off the sadness.
I open the memory box and takeout a picture of my mother and me right before she died, and another picture of Mitch and me from two summers ago. I want them with me when I go. Even though I’ll have no use for them if I don’t survive this, the thought of having them with me is still comforting.
I pick up the pendant from my nightstand and roll it over in my hand. It still feels heav
y and extremely warm to the touch. I’m tempted to put it on, but what good will it do me? If they’re coming for me, this can’t stop them. Nothing can.
I tip-toe down the stairs and peek into the living room. Dad and Mitch sprawl across the living room floor, engaged in an intense game of Battleship. Judy lies on the couch, eyes closed, a hand resting on her forehead. She’s obviously hung over. Serves her right.
I go to the kitchen and grab a bottled water from the cooler. I don’t bother lighting a candle as I sit down at the table. I want to sit unnoticed and drink in the last few minutes I have with my family. This is how it will be once I’m gone. They’ll be fine. Why wouldn’t they be? They got by just fine without me for eight years, only seeing me during the summer. Nothing will really change.
The anticipation eats at me. Part of me wants to just open the door, step outside, and scream at the Redeemers to take me. Another part of me wants to run upstairs and hide in my closet.
I move to the kitchen window and pull back the curtains, only to see a thick, heavy mist plastered to the windows. It’s thicker than it was earlier. They must be out in full force now—whatever they are.
I know that what I saw outside the library was not human, but what was it exactly? How can my grandmother, Reverend Carter, and God knows who else be one of them? Or are they something else—an evolved version of the ghostly, zombie-like things that hunted Trevor and me? And what is Monique? She was literally flying outside my window, but she looks human.
Which of them will come for me tonight? Will it be a creature, one of the townsfolk, or something else entirely?
The moment I close the curtains, the house begins to shake. I brace myself against the rumbling. This time it’s so intense it feels like the house may shake off its foundation. I turn toward the living room just as the front door bursts open.
Chapter Fifteen
The door slams closed as the rattling and shaking reaches a deafening crescendo. The floor buckles and shakes beneath me, making it hard for me to walk.
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