Don't Look Now

by Michelle Gagnon

  Staring at the hands that suddenly felt like they belonged to her again, Noa abruptly released them. Her fingers were still tense, and sore from gripping so hard. Red lines wrapped around Taylor’s throat like angry vines.

  “Did I kill her?” she asked dazedly.

  Zeke bent over Taylor, checking her. “Not yet, but close,” he said grimly. Zeke tucked the gun in his waistband, then grabbed Noa by the elbow. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Right, the fire,” Noa said hollowly, turning her head. She still felt out of it. The seams around the door glowed with a flickering light, and smoke seeped along all sides of it. She imagined opening the door and staring out at a solid wall of bright orange and red. The fire would rush in and consume them, eagerly chasing down the fresh oxygen stored in the room like dry kindling.

  “We have to get to the windows,” Zeke said, tugging at her arm. “Noa, c’mon!”

  Noa was still focused on Taylor. The girl’s chest was rising and falling, although her breath wheezed in her throat. But that’s not what she was staring at. Taylor’s shirt had pulled down, revealing part of her bra, along with . . . “Zeke, look. That mark, on her chest—”

  “We don’t have time!” he yelled, physically hauling her off Taylor and away from the bed. He propelled her forward.

  “Wait, weren’t you shot?” she asked.

  “Yeah, thanks for noticing. Can we get out of here now, please?”

  Zeke had one hand clenched to his side; a slow tide of red oozed from under his fingers. His face was tight with pain and fear. The look in his eyes finally snapped her out of it. Noa rushed to the window and tore open the curtains, then unlatched the sash and threw it open. Zeke peered down with her. Her bedroom was on the back side of the house, facing the ocean. The second-story windows were nearly twenty feet above the ground, thanks to the vaulted living room ceiling below. Noa couldn’t see or hear any of the others. She wondered if they’d already been captured or killed.

  “We’ll have to climb down the vines and hope they hold us,” Zeke said, his voice strained. “Ladies first?”

  Noa didn’t answer. Her throat had gone dry. The only thing she hated worse than fire was heights.

  “I’ll go first,” Zeke said. “Don’t expect me to catch you, though.”

  “Wait.” Noa put a hand on his arm. “What about her?”

  He followed her eyes back to Taylor, who was still slumped lifelessly in the bed. “What about her?” he asked warily.

  “We can’t just leave her here.”

  “Why not?” Zeke said incredulously. “She was trying to kill us! And oh yeah, she shot me!”

  “Zeke, she’s one of us,” Noa said. “She has the scar, too.” She drew a line along her chest on the outside of her shirt.

  His eyes widened as he realized what she meant. “But she said—”

  “She lied.”

  Zeke eyed Taylor unhappily. “We’ll have to lower her down with something.”

  Noa scanned the room. The bedsheets would take too long to knot together, and there was no way they’d be able to manage Taylor between them, not without falling. She hesitated. It had felt good, strangling her. If Zeke hadn’t been there, would she have stopped?

  Noa realized her fists had clenched again; she straightened her fingers. There had to be a solution. “The bathroom,” she suddenly said.

  “What about it?” Zeke was getting paler; he was bent nearly double. The blood had soaked his shirt and pants. The chances of him being able to climb down without help weren’t good. Was she nuts to try to save a girl who’d betrayed them all?

  Probably. But she was going to do it anyway. “We can use the curtain ties to make a rope, and lower her down that way.”

  Zeke looked dubious, but he followed her to the bed. Noa got her hands under Taylor’s shoulders and lifted, taking the bulk of the girl’s body weight. Zeke led the way into the bathroom, grimacing with each step. Through gritted teeth he managed to say, “For the record, I think this is a terrible idea.”

  “Noted,” Noa grunted. Taylor was deceptively heavy. A few times, Noa checked her chest nervously, relieved each time to see it rise and fall.

  Noa gently lowered the girl to the bathroom floor and closed the door. She quickly rolled up a towel and pressed it against the bottom of the doorframe. But the air was already smoky, and more seeped through the cracks by the minute. The floor felt hot, too. What if the house collapsed before they got out? Noa hurried to throw open the large window behind the tub.

  “So how exactly do we get to the ground?” Zeke asked dubiously, leaning over the tub to take in the drop.

  “Carefully,” Noa muttered, getting to work. Monica had taken the theme to extremes here; the bathroom looked like the kind of tower an unfortunate princess might be locked away in. Marble floors, velvet wallpaper, and long, heavy curtains tied back with thickly woven gold braids.

  Noa unknotted the closest curtain cord; it was at least four feet long. Her eyes darted around the room: There were eight other cords. Tied together, they should reach the ground, or at least get them close enough to jump without seriously injuring themselves.

  Hopefully.

  Zeke had caught on and was staggering around the room, slipping off the rest of the sashes and unknotting them. Noa started connecting them, tying a firm square knot at each end.

  Taylor moaned softly, startling her. She glanced over; the girl’s eyelids were fluttering.

  “Great,” Zeke said. “Maybe she’ll wake up and try to kill us again while we’re trying to save her life.”

  Noa ignored him. Taylor was unarmed now, and didn’t seem like much of a fighter, anyway. If she woke up, it would make this a lot easier.

  Noa tied one end of the rope to the claw foot tub leg, securing it with a few tugs. She examined Zeke covertly under her lashes while she did it; his face was twisted in a rictus of pain. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not. I got shot,” he said peevishly. “Would you be okay?”

  Satisfied that if he was still capable of being annoyed, it probably meant he wasn’t dying, Noa threw the other end of the rope out the window. “You first,” she said. “Then we’ll send her.”

  “Yeah?” He eyed Taylor skeptically. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

  “No,” Noa said honestly. “But I don’t want anyone else to die if I can help it.”

  Zeke looked at her for a second, then slowly nodded. Something in his eyes softened. “Careful, okay?” he said. “If you can’t manage her, get yourself out.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Noa said.

  He looked like he was about to say something else, but at that moment he doubled over in pain. Noa lunged to help him, but he shook her off. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly. “Just gotta breathe through it, right?” Zeke crawled across the tub, swung his legs over the window ledge, and grabbed hold of the rope with both hands. “See you down there,” he tossed back before vanishing from sight.

  The bathroom had to be a hundred degrees now. Sweat poured down her. Noa turned on the bathtub tap, relieved when it spewed a stream of cold water. She gathered up a handful of it and tossed it in Taylor’s face. Nothing. Frowning, she repeated the action.

  Taylor sputtered awake with a cry. Her eyes snapped open. Seeing Noa, she initially looked confused. Then a scowl furrowed her features. “You tried to kill me!”

  “Yeah, well. Just trying to repay the favor.” Noa jerked her head to the window. “And we’ve got about a minute left before we cook in here, so you better get moving.”

  Taylor’s gaze shifted around the room, taking in the scene quickly. Seeing the rope attached to the tub, her eyes narrowed. “We’re climbing out?”

  “Yup. And if you’re not down that rope in a few seconds, I’m going without you.” Which wasn’t technically true; she wasn’t about to leave Taylor alone up here, free to untie the rope as she dangled from it. This way, by the time the girl got to the bottom, Zeke would be waiting with the gun. And
after that . . . Well, she hadn’t gotten that far along in the planning yet.

  Noa stepped forward as if making good on the threat, but there was no need—Taylor was already scrambling to her feet. Clearly the girl had a finely honed sense of self-preservation. She gracefully stepped across the tub and straddled the window, then with a final glance back at Noa, started sliding down.

  A loud crack in the bedroom made Noa jump. Probably the long mirror over the bureau, shattering from the heat. Noa felt a sharp pang at the loss of the room, and the house. She should have known better than to get attached to a place. None of her homes ever lasted.

  Another crack as the bathroom door started to give. Noa swung her legs over the windowsill and tried not to look down. Misty sea air immediately chilled the sweat clinging to her skin, making her shiver. She let the curtain cord slide through her fingers as she rappelled down the side of the house, swinging away from a section on the right where the ivy was already in flames.

  Her feet hit something solid and she exhaled deeply, releasing some of the tension knotted through her shoulders. Turning around, she saw Zeke and Taylor in a stand-off. He was pointing the gun at her chest with his free hand, although to Noa’s concern his arm was wavering.

  Taylor seemed unfazed. She stood facing him, eyebrow cocked as she said, “So, what? You saved me just to shoot me?”

  “You can go,” Noa said.

  “What?” Taylor spun toward her.

  “Go.” Noa nodded at the forest. “Run back to the people who operated on you. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” She jerked her head toward the sea and said, “C’mon, Zeke.”

  He hesitated, then followed, staying half-turned to keep the gun directed toward Taylor. Noa sucked in lungfuls of fresh air while making a solemn oath to steer clear of burning buildings from here on out.

  “You won’t get away!” Taylor called after them.

  Noa glanced back over her shoulder. Taylor was standing there, a pale figure limned by fog and darkness. She looked like the lost girl in some twisted fairy tale, like she’d tumbled from the tower and discovered when she hit the ground that there was no prince waiting to whisk her away.

  Zeke let out a hiss of air and stumbled, nearly falling. Noa caught him, then slung one of his arms over her shoulder, propping him up as she helped him along.

  “What about the others?” he gasped.

  “I’ll go back for them as soon as I get you somewhere safe,” she said.

  “Leave me. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not arguing about this,” Noa said. “So you might as well shut up and move faster.”

  “Great bedside manner as always.” Zeke managed a strangled laugh. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “The beach.” The plan formed in her mind as she said it. “We can swim out.”

  “Swim?” Zeke coughed, “Wow, you really are trying to kill me.”

  “Shut up and keep moving,” Noa said. Their whole world was crumbling around them, literally. She had no idea where everyone else was, if they’d escaped or even now were being killed or herded away. And the closest thing she’d had to a home in nearly a decade was burning to the ground.

  But she was with Zeke. And for some reason, that meant all was not lost.

  They had turned the far corner of the house, and were in sight of the shelter of the trees, when her peripheral vision caught a flicker of movement from behind.

  Noa spun, thinking for a moment that Taylor had changed her mind and decided to chase them down.

  Instead, she saw Janiqua, cornrows streaming out behind her as she tore in their direction.

  Right behind her were two men dressed all in black, wearing masks and carrying assault rifles.

  The guy was wearing a helmet and a weird mask that covered the lower half of his face. He turned toward Teo, his gun panning along with him.

  Teo looked down and saw a tiny red dot on his chest. He’d watched enough movies and TV shows to know that was never a good thing.

  He bolted.

  “Hey!” the guy yelled, but apparently Teo had moved too fast for him to react; or maybe he had orders not to shoot. Either way, Teo wasn’t hanging around to find out. He raced back to the guesthouse, praying Daisy was where he’d left her.

  He was a hundred feet away when he heard her scream.

  That spurred him on. The gray-shingled walls of the shed appeared through the trees. Teo put on an extra burst of speed as he rounded the corner toward the front door.

  Another guy in black was pointing a rifle at Daisy. Still wearing only the thin tank top and boy shorts, she was shivering from cold and fear.

  The look of terror in her eyes galvanized him. As the guy’s head pivoted toward him, Teo sprang forward, slamming into his side. They both went flying. Teo flailed out with his fists. Most of the blows glanced off, but the few that connected made the guy grunt.

  “Get off him!” Something jabbed Teo in the side.

  The second jab got his attention—he spun so quickly, the guy behind him fell back a few steps.

  Slowly, he got to his feet. Daisy was gone—hopefully she’d gotten away. The guy at his feet was groaning. Teo hoped that he hurt like hell.

  The gunman squinted at him. “You’re not on the list.”

  “What list?” Teo said.

  The guy paused, then said, “Forget it, kid. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, if I’m not on the list,” Teo said hopefully, “maybe you can just let me go.”

  The guy scoffed. “Yeah, right. Nice try. Yo, Berinsky. You still breathing?”

  The guy at Teo’s feet shifted and cursed.

  “If you’re done getting your ass handed to you by a scrawny kid,” the first guy sneered, “you mind getting up? We gotta get this one to the van.”

  Berinsky pulled down his mask and spit blood onto the ground. “I want five minutes with him first.”

  “Uh-uh,” the first guy shook his head. “You heard the boss, we’re not supposed to damage the merchandise. Besides, where they’re headed”—he broke into a grin that made Teo’s blood run cold—“trust me, man, they’ll wish they got stuck with you and me.”

  The labs, Teo thought. Somehow they found us, and they’re rounding us up. He prayed that Daisy was smart enough to hunker down and hide. And he hoped she’d at least think about him every once in a while.

  Berinsky grumbled something as he lumbered to his feet, then bent to scoop up his rifle. Teo kept a wary eye on him the whole time.

  “C’mon,” the first guy said, gesturing to the right with his gun. “Van’s that way. Start walking, kid.”

  Berinsky went first, limping slightly, and Teo reluctantly followed. They slogged through the woods. The smoke from the burning house had intermingled with the fog, creating a damp black curtain that snaked around them. It was so dark and thick he could barely make out anything a few feet away. For a second, he considered running for it, but the gunman must’ve picked up on a change in his posture; he snarled, “Don’t even think about it. I’d love a reason to shoot you. And like I said, you’re not on the list.”

  Teo wondered again what this list was, and how they’d gotten it. Had Taylor given it to them? If so, then he should’ve been on it, right?

  Who else could have provided it?

  Teo tripped on a tree root and went flying, landing hard on his hands and knees.

  “Get up!” the guy behind him snapped.

  Berinsky didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of them. He just kept shuffling forward through the trees.

  Which was lucky, because as Teo started to get up, he heard a loud thwack, followed immediately by a bullet skimming past his face.

  “Run!” Janiqua shrieked. “They’re coming!”

  Noa whipped around, trying to drag Zeke with her, but he just slumped against her shoulder. “Leave me!” he rasped in her ear. “I can’t run!”

  “I’m not leaving you,” she said through gritted teeth. Janiqua passed them and vani
shed, headed toward the beach. Noa followed at a snail’s pace, Zeke’s weight bearing down on them. Her own energy was flagging; it felt like her knees would give out at any minute. They’d nearly reached the woods when a shot rang out. A voice yelled, “Next one hits lower! Freeze!”

  She hesitated, looking at Zeke. Their eyes met, then his gaze flicked down: He’d taken out the gun and tucked it under his arm. Noa nodded to show that she understood, then slowly turned.

  The men’s faces were covered in masks that lent them an oddly wasplike appearance. Other than that, though, they were indistinguishable from the commandos she’d wrangled with months earlier. Her mind flicked back to the café guy; she wondered if these were his buddies. And if they had any idea what had happened to him.

  Noa forced the thought away. “He’s been shot!” she called out. “He needs medical attention.”

  “Don’t move!” one of them ordered. They edged forward, keeping the gun barrels fixed on their chests. Grimly, Noa found it a little flattering to be viewed as such a threat. They clearly weren’t taking any chances.

  “Hands where we can see them!” the same guy yelled.

  “He’s hurt!” Noa protested. “He can’t lift his arm!”

  “I don’t care if he’s dying, raise your hands and get on the ground or I start shooting!” the guy growled.

  Noa slowly lifted her hands. As she did, something flashed beside her, followed by a bang so loud it made her wince. One of the commandos fell to the ground with a cry. The other’s focus snapped toward his partner.

  Noa tried to run, but Zeke’s full weight sagged against her, forcing her to stumble. Ironically, his collapse saved them—she heard the whistle of a shot tearing past her ear as they fell. All the air was forced from her lungs as she landed hard on her side, with Zeke pressing down on her. Then he slid off, hitting the ground beside her lifelessly.

  “Zeke!” she cried out, scrambling for him. Noa rolled him toward her. His head flopped sideways, and Noa fumbled along his neck, trying to feel for a pulse. But her fingers were trembling too badly. All she could sense was how cool his skin was, slick with mist.