The Deadlock Trilogy Box Set

by P. T. Hylton

  He spoke loudly so they all could hear him. “Everyone needs to move along now. I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

  Colt nodded toward Sean’s gun. “You gonna shoot us, Officer? Kids standing on the sidewalk at night? For what? Being out past curfew? Pulling a gun on kids breaking curfew sounds a little Regulationy to me.”

  The words were sharpened like a dagger. The department had zero-tolerance for officers enforcing Regulations. Two cops had been fired in the last few months for minor Regulation enforcement, and one had been fired for publicly stating that some of the Regulations might have been a good idea. The department was doing everything it could to distance itself from the perceived police state that existed under Zed’s rule.

  “Of course I’m not going to shoot anyone. But I will write citations for each and every person who isn’t gone in the next thirty seconds.”

  “Citations?” Colt spat the word back in Sean’s face. “The rules used to mean something. This town used to mean something. You think we care about your citations? Your pieces of paper are meaningless against what’s coming. And I’ll tell you something else: your gun isn’t gonna be so helpful either. When the second coming happens it ain’t gonna be like last time. There’s gonna be a clear dividing line between those who upheld Zed’s message and those who stood against it. You want to be on the right side of that line.”

  “It’s time to go,” Sean growled. “I’m not asking again.”

  Colt nodded. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of us. Real soon. I gave you the chance to hand over the compass.” With that, he turned and walked away. The rest of the Zed Heads followed, seeming to melt into the darkness.

  Sean stood on the porch, his heart racing. He gazed out into the street, watching for any shapes that remained on the sidewalk. He saw none.

  He was about to go back into the house when he heard a crash, quickly followed by the blaring of a car alarm. He leapt off the porch, skipping over the three steps and landing on the sidewalk mid-stride. He sprinted toward the driveway and then froze. The window of his police cruiser was shattered and a brick lay on the driver’s seat.

  He spun on his heels, searching, listening for some sign of which way the perpetrators ran. There was none. He was alone.

  4. Sanctuary

  Nate led Sophie along a broad path through the woods. His flashlight was small and he walked in front, so the beam of light was too far ahead of her to be of much help. She concentrated on his back, trying to follow him as he zigged and zagged toward wherever he was leading her.

  At least she was dry. The rain had stopped, and the only reminder of it was the way her feet squished into the mud with each step. Nate had given her dry clothes: underwear, a tee shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a light jacket, all the right size. They’d been waiting for her in another room in the cabin along with a towel, a hairbrush, and even a ponytail holder. Nate had shown her to the room and told her to take her time, to come out whenever she was ready. He’d waited outside while she dressed.

  And now he was taking her somewhere. Nate had been quiet since they left the little cabin, simply plodding along the path, not even looking back to make sure she was still with him.

  They rounded a sharp corner, and Nate paused. “This is it,” he said. He turned and looked at her, as if watching for her reaction.

  The building in front of them was a large, Victorian-style home. The lights inside illuminated the many windows, and she saw movement upstairs. The wrap-around porch was dotted with at least ten rocking chairs. Large white columns stood along the front of the house.

  “Is this where you live?” she asked.

  “Nah, not me. This is the boss’s place. He lives upstairs, and most of the business that needs doing gets done downstairs. I have a much smaller, less obnoxious house down the path a ways. You’ll get your own too, in time.” With that, he turned and strode toward the house. Sophie looked at it for another moment and then followed.

  The trail led straight to the front of the house. As far as she could see, there was no driveway, sidewalk, or garage, unless it was behind the house. She ran her hand along the banister as they ascended the stairs to the porch. This place was in perfect condition. The white paint was clean and unchipped. The bushes in front of the house were carefully manicured. The rocking chairs on the porch looked like they’d been hand built, considering the intricate details in the woodwork. The house seemed out of place in the dense forest. It was like finding a teacup in a tree branch; she knew there had to be a crazy story behind how and why the house had been built here.

  Nate gestured toward one of the rocking chairs. “Nice night. You mind sitting out here and talking for a couple minutes before we head inside?”

  She shook her head and eased herself into the rocking chair closest to her. It had been a long day/night, and her body was beginning to complain from the beating it had taken. In the last few hours, she had experienced the fight with Rodgers, been carried through the woods by Leonard and Baldwin, and gotten cuffed to the chair and hosed down by Logan. She hurt all over. And Nate was right; it was a nice night. A cool breeze cut through the trees. There wasn’t the usual humid muggy haze that hung in the air after it rained. She hadn’t been bitten by a single mosquito on the walk through the woods, and mosquitoes were generally drawn to Sophie.

  “You doing okay?” Nate asked. “It must have been quite a shock. I know it was for me. First almost dying, then showing up here, then Logan with the hose.”

  Sophie nodded. “I’m doing okay.” And she realized it was true. She was doing okay. She’d set out this morning to find Charles Taylor, and, whatever other craziness had happened, she could honestly say she was much closer to finding him than she’d thought she’d be at this point. For all she knew, he could be in that house right now. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t even know why I said the word. I didn’t believe Sanctuary was real. Not even a little. But the word still came out of my mouth.”

  “It was the same for me,” Nate said.

  Sophie suddenly remembered something. “The man I was with. His name was Rodgers. He said the word, too. Is he here?”

  Nate shook his head. “You think everyone who shouts ‘Sanctuary’ in their hour of need shows up here? This place would be overrun. We’re the lucky ones.”

  “How’s that work? Why us?”

  He smiled. “The boss picked us. The way I understand it, he hears the cries of ‘Sanctuary’. Every one of them. He can’t save them all. We don’t have the room. But every once in a while he plucks someone out of wherever they are and brings them here, gives them a new life.” He reached forward and patted Sophie’s knee. “We’re truly a chosen people.”

  She gritted her teeth. How many good, decent folk had called for Sanctuary and had their call go unanswered? And the Curbside Killer gets chosen instead. “It certainly doesn’t seem to be based on merit.”

  A shadow fell across Nate’s face. “No. It isn’t.”

  “How’d it happen for you? The almost dying thing.”

  “Well, Sophie, that’s not something we talk about.”

  “Why not? I’ll bet you're missing out on some hilarious stories. Who wouldn’t want to talk about their near death experience?”

  “It’s not like it’s against the rules. You can talk about yours if you want. It’s sorta considered rude to ask. That’s the way it is here. I don’t know anyone's past but my own, but I’d guess most of the folks here didn’t have it easy. You can see it in their eyes. They’ve seen things. Done things, some of them. But that’s the beauty of this place. It doesn’t matter. Everyone gets a fresh start.”

  She felt her face grow hot at the thought of Charles Taylor getting a clean slate. He might have his own little house in these woods. Probably laughed himself to sleep every night. “Maybe some people don’t deserve a fresh start.”

  “I won’t say I disagree with you. But the boss does. Everyone here starts with the same blank slate. He makes sure of it.”

&nb
sp; “Is that why you brought me up here? To meet the boss?”

  “Yeah. Just a quick hello for now. We’ll do that in a few minutes, but there are some things we need to discuss first. I need to prepare you.”

  She paused. “That sounds ominous.”

  “Nah. Quite the opposite, actually. Some people find him to be a little… let’s say, intimidating. He takes his work here very seriously, and he gets a little intense about it. But underneath it all, he’s a sweetheart. Really. And it’s important work, so maybe he has reason to be intense about it.”

  “What work is that?” She suddenly envisioned herself hauling stones over a mountain to build a statue to the great and mysterious boss.

  He nodded toward the woods. “We tend to the forest. We maintain the trails.”

  “What if I don’t see myself as the park ranger type?”

  “What do you see yourself as?”

  She thought for a moment. That was a tough question. She was twenty-seven years old, and she couldn’t say she had much of an identity. For years, she’d concentrated on not thinking about what happened to Heather. But she’d thrown that away when she drove to Rook Mountain.

  Rules weren’t her thing. She’d walked away from jobs when she’d butted heads with her bosses. There were always other jobs, and no paycheck was worth her freedom.

  “I guess I see myself more as the type who steals picnic baskets,” she said.

  He chuckled. “There’s room for all kinds here, bear and park ranger alike. We’ll help you find your place, and in time I think you’ll find it’s far more rewarding than anything you did in the outside world. The boss believes in hard work, but he also believes in letting people figure out what type of work they should be doing. What type of work fulfills them.”

  “Where are we? I mean, like, where in the world? These trees are huge. Are they redwoods?”

  He paused for a moment before answering. “Sorry, I’ve been here so long I forgot the crazy things that go through your head when you’re new.”

  “Let me guess,” she said. “I’m not supposed to ask that question.”

  He held up his hands. “No, no. You can ask. It’s not something I spend a lot of time thinking about these days. Fact is, I have no idea where in the world we are. And I don’t care. We’re never leaving. Most of us wouldn’t want to. So why’s it matter?” He nodded toward the house. “Listen, he’s probably waiting for us, so let me tell you about the rules.”

  Sophie smirked. “Rules, huh? I was waiting for that part ever since you mentioned a boss.”

  “Chill, Yogi. It’s not a big deal. The boss isn’t a fan of rules and regulations. For the most part, it’s live and let live around here. I guarantee you’ve never had as much freedom in your life. But there are two rules you cannot violate. We take them very seriously.” He nodded toward the house again. “He takes them very seriously.”

  Sophie leaned forward in her rocking chair. What kind of a place was this?

  “Rule one. Don’t hurt anyone. Simple as that. Fist fights, unprovoked attacks, murder. We treat them all the same.”

  “Except hosing down new recruits. You let that slide.”

  “That was different. You were an outsider. You’ve been accepted into Sanctuary now. But don’t even think about getting back at Logan or Leonard or Baldwin. When we say don’t hurt anyone, we mean it. It’s a hard line rule, but it works. We don’t have any fights, because everyone understands the consequences.”

  “And the consequences are?”

  “Banishment. Understand the rule?”

  She nodded.

  “And you’ll follow it?”

  She pictured herself driving a knife into Charles Taylor’s chest all the way to the hilt. “Yeah. I’ll follow it.”

  She gazed at the window and wondered if this mysterious boss was looking out at her through one of those curtains. Did he know? Did he know what Taylor had done to her? Was he watching her, waiting to see how she’d react?

  “What’s the second rule?”

  Nate smiled. “Never go into the boss’s office. Except now.” He stood up. “Come on. He’s waiting to meet you.”

  She clenched her fists. She felt the anger welling up inside of her, the familiar rage she’d felt so many times over the years. But she had become an expert at suppressing it, at smiling through the pain and going to class or going to work and no one being the wiser. She’d do it again now. She’d follow their rules and be the perfect citizen of this creepy little commune until she saw her way out. It didn’t seem likely she’d be able to haul Taylor through the woods and back to civilization. If she could, she’d leave this place and bring the authorities back with her. But if she had to, she’d carry out Taylor’s sentence herself. It made her a little sick thinking about it, but she would do it if it came to that.

  She followed Nate through the double doors on the front of the house and into a large living area. The room was decorated in a simple and rugged style that didn’t exactly fit the old southern charm of the exterior, but she had to admit the furniture looked top quality.

  She glanced at the chandelier overhead with its many glowing light bulbs. Was this house running off a generator or was it on the grid? Even if it was a generator, they had to be getting the fuel somewhere. Maybe this place wasn’t as cut off from the outside world as Nate implied. And where there was contact with the outside world, there was a chance at escape.

  “This way,” Nate said. He led her to a door on the far side of the room. He rapped on the door three times.

  “Come,” a voice from within said.

  Nate winked at Sophie. “Don’t worry. He’ll love you.” He opened the door and went into the room. Sophie took a deep breath and followed.

  The office was dominated by a large oak desk. The man behind the desk stood as they entered. He was a tall, solid-looking man with shaggy blond hair streaked with gray. He was handsome in an unkempt kind of way, and his wide smile added to his boyish charm. He wore a simple plain black tee shirt and jeans.

  He held out his hand to her.

  “Sophie, welcome to Sanctuary. My name’s Jake.”

  IN THE WOODS (PART TWO)

  They waited in Mason’s cabin until nightfall.

  The exterior was rough, with trees growing uncomfortably close and boards covering most of the windows. But the inside was nice, if not exactly spacious. The large main room was decorated with a couch and an easy chair. There was a king size bed in the corner, and one of the walls was lined with boxes sporting the logos of everything from Hormel to Ramen to Nike.

  When Frank asked him where he got all this stuff, Mason shrugged and told him they’d been here his whole life. Whatever that meant. Frank didn’t press the matter. Not now. He was still reeling from the news that his brother was dead.

  According to what Mason said, Frank had arrived at least sixty-five years after Jake. It seemed crazy, but it did make a certain amount of sense. The mirror had the broken clock symbol on it, just like the pocket watch. Frank and his friends hadn’t discovered any time-altering properties of the mirror—or any of the other Tools—but Zed told them they had only scratched the surface of what the Tools could do.

  Then there was always the possibility time passed differently here, wherever here was. Frank thought back to The Chronicles of Narnia books he’d read as a kid. Peter, Susan, Edmond, and Lucy spent years in Narnia while only a few hours passed back on Earth. He supposed fictional wonderlands probably weren’t the best way to find the truth, but maybe they could help him find new ways to look at it.

  Mason stood near the one window that had glass covering it instead of boards.

  “Who was that man with the beard?” Frank asked. He’d kept quiet about it on the walk here since Mason clearly seemed disturbed by the sighting, but Frank needed to know.

  Mason shook his head. “Not yet. It’s hard to explain unless you understand what happened to my parents. And that’s hard to explain without showing you.”

&n
bsp; He looked out the window, then waved Frank over.

  Frank shuffled to the window and looked out, following Mason’s gaze. They had a view of the nearest mountain top through a thin gap in the trees. The sun was slipping behind the peak.

  “We should be good to go now,” Mason said. “The Larvae aren’t the bravest of creatures. They don’t come out of their hidey-holes once it gets dark.”

  From the almost defensive way he said it, Frank could tell Mason had affection for the creatures. And why not? He’d spent his whole life around them.

  “If they’re larvae, does that mean they’re babies?” Frank asked. “What do they grow up to become?”

  Mason shook his head. The way his shaggy hair brushed the tops of his eyebrows reminded Frank of Jake. “They grow to a certain point, and then they leave. I don’t know where they go or how they do it. Hell, if I knew I would have followed them years ago.”

  Mason picked up two flashlights and handed one to Frank.

  They left the cabin and headed down a trail that had been worn down, Frank guessed, by Mason’s feet alone. It was wide enough that they could walk side-by-side with room to spare.

  “How far is it?” Frank asked.

  “Not far. Probably.”

  Frank decided to let that odd statement go for now.

  After five minutes of walking, Mason said, “It’s right ahead.” They rounded a bend and Frank saw it, a hulking shape in the dark. He pointed his flashlight at it to reveal more.

  From the bits that weren’t covered in vines and ivy, Frank could see it had once been a beautiful home. Old dilapidated columns supported the sagging roof over the wrap-around porch, and long blades of grass grew through the slats.

  “This is it,” Mason said. “My dad’s house.”

  Frank’s eyes scanned the area. “Tell me what happened.”