365 Days Alone

by Nancy Isaak

  * * * *

  It was remarkably easy to free Lily—I guess that should have been our first clue.

  The key was exactly where Shawnee had said it would be. Cherry took it from the ledge over top of the door and placed it in the lock. It turned easily and she pushed the door open slowly.

  Lily was sitting on her bed, in a little alcove at one end of Peyton’s bedroom, reading a book. She looked up slowly and—when she realized it was us—burst into a huge smile.

  She practically flew into my arms. “Jay!”

  “Sorry it took us so long,” I told her.

  “It’s okay. I knew that you’d come…where’s Jude?”

  “Right here, kiddo,” said a voice behind me.

  I turned to see Jude—standing there, grinning.

  Shawnee was right behind her; at least she had the decency to look guilty for having abandoned her post.

  “You were supposed to wait outside,” I told Jude, frowning.

  “Whatever.” Jude swung Lily up in her arms, holding her tightly. “You okay, Sailor Moon?”

  “Now I am.” Lily hugged Jude, burying her head happily in Jude’s neck. “My Jude,” she purred.

  I could swear that there were tears in Jude’s eyes.

  * * * *

  After Lily quickly grabbed a few of her things, we locked up Peyton’s bedroom, returned the key to the ledge above the door, and ran out of the house. We were hoping that—when the Foxes returned—they would see the locked door and assume that Lily was behind it.

  If we were lucky, it might give us a few extra minutes.

  Which meant being that much farther away when the trumpet sounded.

  * * * *

  Unable to help myself, I fretted about Kaylee as we ran back down the hillside stairs.

  In the distance, I could just barely see the roof of Jude’s house. If everything was going according to her plan, Kaylee would be there right now with Tray, completing her part of Lily’s rescue—and our escape.

  The rest of us, meanwhile, were heading to the secret room in my family’s townhouse. When Kaylee was done with Tray, she would be meeting us there. Then, we would grab the supplies we’d already placed in the attic—and make for the hills!

  And—if we were really lucky—the Foxes and the Protection Detail would be so busy sleeping off the sedatives that Cherry and I had placed in Sophia’s soup, that they wouldn’t even know that we were gone until they woke up—hours later.

  At least—that was the plan.

  MY PART OF THE PLAN

  I paced throughout Jude’s house—absolutely sick with worry about Jay and the others.

  Had they managed to free Lily, yet?

  Did they get caught by the Protection Detail?

  Were they even now learning the true definition of ‘summary execution’?

  But I had to put my worries aside—I had to get myself together.

  Because at any moment, Tray would show up at the front door and I needed to be ready for her.

  * * * *

  It was strange to put on make-up again.

  After so many months without, I had difficulty getting everything right. My fingers had lost their sense-memory somehow, and they shook when I put on eyeliner. Twice I had to wipe it off and start all over again.

  Putting on mascara was even worse.

  I kept missing my eyelashes, instead poking the corners of my eyes; my frustration continued to mount with each little blob of misplaced black goo.

  Finally—I burst into tears.

  And then…I cried even harder, because my tears had caused my mascara to run.

  This was so not going the way I had planned.

  * * * *

  There was enough natural light in the house that I could just see myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. I was wearing dark navy shorts with six gold buttons in the front—two rows across, three buttons down.

  My top, meanwhile, was a light pink tank with a scooped neck; all along the scoop were tiny blue embroidered anchors.

  I had always liked this sailor-suit ensemble.

  Hopefully, Tray would, too.

  * * * *

  Earlier, I had dumped the sedatives that Jay had given me into a pitcher of tea that was now sun-brewing on the windowsill.

  The plan was simple.

  Because I knew Tray drank tea, I would suggest a glass before—well, before.

  Jay had told me that the pills worked quickly. So, as soon as Tray fell asleep, I would hightail it out of there and race over to the Sitipala’s townhouse. From there, our little group would head off to Malibu before anybody was the wiser.

  Except that Tray never showed.

  * * * *

  After thirty minutes, I finally gave up waiting.

  Because I hadn’t heard the trumpet sound, I was somewhat encouraged that everything was probably still going as planned with the other girls. And—if Tray hadn’t shown up—maybe it was simply because she had enjoyed some soup with the Foxes in the cafeteria.

  Yes—that made sense to me.

  That absolutely made sense.

  As I ran along the culvert toward Jay’s townhouse, I thought it over.

  Tray had probably been at Sophia’s church service for at least a little bit. She might even have decided to have lunch in the cafeteria afterward. Then, if she had become drugged off of the soup, no doubt Tray was already sleeping off the effects of the sedatives somewhere.

  Which would be why she hadn’t shown up—or why I hadn’t heard any trumpet.

  That simply had to be it.

  Tray, the Foxes, and the girls from the Protection Detail were sleeping it off.

  So, now—all I had to do was make my way to the Sitipala secret room, grab my backpack and my friends—and escape.

  * * * *

  The first floor of the Sitipala townhouse was deathly quiet.

  I slowly crept up the stairs, my nerves increasing with each creak and groan of the risers. If the other members of our little group were already here, they were certainly keeping well-hidden.

  Creak, groan—I seemed to be hitting every loose board on the staircase.

  As I reached the second floor landing, I could see down the hallway to the open doorway to Jay’s bedroom. For a moment, I debated going inside, but my nerves were beginning to jangle. More than anything, I just wanted to get into the attic room and get everybody out and away from Agoura Hills.

  Slowly—I moved into the master bedroom.

  And immediately relaxed.

  Everyone’s backpacks were on the bed. And—now that I was looking—I could see Lily’s little white Gucci purse was also there.

  Which meant that the plan worked; they actually did it!

  They got Lily!

  I ran toward the closet; its doors were open and the stairs to the secret room already pulled down.

  “Jay…Jude!” I called out. “It’s me!”

  Two long, slender legs immediately began to descend the secret room’s stairs.

  Abject terror shot through my veins at the sight!

  There was a noise behind me—coming from the hallway. When I spun around to look, Alice and a 12th grader were coming out of the second bedroom. They were both armed, holding guns in their hands, with whips at their belts.

  Slowly, I turned back to the attic stairs—just as Tray stepped off the last rung.

  She smiled. “Hi, Kaylee!”

  I looked down at the backpacks on the bed, confused.

  “Oh, don’t worry about your friends,” Tray explained. “We’ve found them alternate accommodations.”

  It was utterly devastating.

  We had worked so hard at this escape—planned for almost every detail, every eventuality.

  Except for the traitor, the one informer we had unknowingly kept in our midst…

  …me…

  “How?” I asked. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what’s made this so much fun, sweet Kaylee. That you ac
tually thought you were playing your game—while all this time, you’ve been playing mine.”

  “But this isn’t a game!” I said, angrily. “This is our lives!”

  “I agree,” she nodded. “Which, trust me, has made this all so much more entertaining.” She held up a piece of paper, chuckling. “By the way…thanks ever so much for the cheat sheet.”

  My stomach dropped.

  Tray was holding the note that I had left for Jacob Riker—the one that I had stuck to his bulletin board once upon a time, so very long ago.

  Telling him exactly where Jay and I could be found.

  SEPTEMBER

  PRISONERS

  I could see just enough through a tiny slit of the pillowslip they had jammed on my head, that I knew I was being taken to the Compound. But instead of going to the Foxes’ house, the two 12th graders from the Protection Detail took me to the house across the street—the one where Shelton had been killed.

  When they opened up the basement door and threw me down the stairs, I wondered if I was going to be their next victim.

  Because—with my hands tied—I couldn’t even protect my head.

  It bounced off the concrete floor and everything went immediately dark!

  * * * *

  When I finally woke up again, night had apparently fallen.

  The only light in the basement appeared to be coming from high up in the bricked wall. Moonlight shone through a sliver of space between the curtains of one of the tiny windows there.

  It was just enough light for me to see.

  Good news—bad news.

  The good news was that the pillowslip over my head had been removed.

  The bad news was that my hands were handcuffed around a pipe that crossed the ceiling.

  * * * *

  I wondered how long I had been hanging there—because my shoulder muscles were screaming in pain. Pulling at the pipe, I used my bodyweight to bear down, hoping that I could loosen the pipe’s wall fitting that way. Maybe if fate was with me, I might even break it completely.

  “Good luck,” came a weak voice from a darkened corner.

  “Cherry!” I cried out—peering into the inky black shadows. “Is that you?”

  “Jude’s here, too,” she said, softly. “But she’s not doing so well. They beat her again.”

  My heart sank. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cherry’s voice. “I’ve got my hand on her chest. I can feel her breathing, so at least she’s still alive…but it’s really weak.”

  “What about Shawnee and Jay and Lily?” I asked.

  “The Detail took Jay and Lily somewhere else. I don’t know where, but they were okay when I saw them last.”

  “And Shawnee?”

  Her silence terrified me.

  “Cherry?”

  In the darkness, Cherry began to sob. “Shawnee escaped.”

  * * * *

  Throughout the night, Cherry and I spoke quietly. She told me about how they had been captured. Their story, sadly, wasn’t so dissimilar to mine.

  Tray and the 11th and 12th graders had been waiting. The moment Jay had pulled down the attic door, girls with guns had rushed at them from the second bedroom.

  And Tray—just like with me—had descended from the attic; a black widow heading slowly toward her prey.

  Jude had tried to pull out her gun, but the Protection Detail had been too quick. Nobody else even had a chance to try for their weapons before their hands had been handcuffed behind their backs.

  They were all caught.

  Except for Shawnee.

  In a stroke of luck, she had been dawdling downstairs, playing with Pugly.

  (He had been in the attic when the Protection Detail had arrived, so I can only assume that he had run out when Tray initially pulled down the door. I guess she had figured that they could catch him later. A big mistake on her part.)

  When Tray and the Protection Detail had come out of hiding, Cherry hadn’t been able to reach for her shotgun. But she did manage one thing.

  Cherry yelled to her younger sister to…“GET OUT, SHAWNEE!!”

  The next thing Cherry had heard was the sound of running feet, then a door had opened and slammed shut.

  Alice had immediately been sent after Shawnee but—when she came back ten minutes later—she was alone.

  Our second youngest member—the one who had held our lowest expectations—had been the only one to escape.

  And she had taken Pugly with her!

  * * * *

  It became easier to see as dawn approached. Light filtered in through the curtains, throwing dappled shadows on the basement floor.

  I could finally see Cherry over in her corner. She was handcuffed to her own pipe, this one running vertically up the side wall of the basement. An unconscious Jude was lying on the floor beside her, handcuffed to a bolt rising out of a massive cement block. There was blood on Jude’s head and dark bruises all along her arms and legs.

  Those were the wounds that I could see—I fretted over the ones I couldn’t.

  “How’s she doing?” I asked Cherry.

  “Her breathing is weird—all raspy-like. I’ll bet that means they broke her ribs. A couple of the 11th graders kicked her in the chest.”

  “Did Lily see?”

  Cherry shook her head. “They’d already taken her away with Jay.”

  “Did they beat you?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “They just did this.”

  She turned around so I could see the back of her head. The curlicue of hair was missing.

  “They cut your ponytail off?!” I was astonished.

  Cherry shrugged. “I guess they thought it would bug me. What a bunch of dumbasses! Don’t they realize that I mess with my hair precisely because it’s so unimportant?” She looked back at me. “How’s your head doing? You took quite a knock to it when they threw you down the stairs.”

  “Hurts like a mofo,” I admitted. “And my arms hurt, too.”

  The weight from hanging by my arms when I was unconscious had caused some serious strain on my shoulders and under my armpits. It was easier to control the pain when I stood straight up but—with my arms handcuffed over my head—even that was now starting to become extremely difficult.

  “You can’t see it from where you’re standing,” said Cherry, “but if you slide along the pipe in that direction, it hits a wall and doglegs down. You should be able to sit on the ground back there.”

  I followed Cherry’s instructions. Sure, enough—moving away from her—I came to a wall. The pipe I was attached to did a right angle, straight down—where again it right-angled, this time connecting to a radiator.

  With a sigh of relief, I sat down, my back against the wall.

  It felt amazing; the sharp pains in my shoulders and arms lifted almost immediately, replaced with only a dull ache. Unfortunately, the new position also made it more difficult for me to see Cherry and Jude.

  We could still talk, however.

  * * * *

  “Do you think this is where they kept Cammie?” asked Cherry.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “They had her here for so long. I wonder how long they’ll keep us.”

  “I wonder what they’re going to do with us. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Cammie before she left for Malibu, but she said that the Foxes did horrible things to her while she was in this basement.”

  Cherry sighed deeply from the other side of the room. “Mean girls can be such bitches.”

  * * * *

  Around mid-morning, while Cherry was asleep and Jude still unconscious at her side, I lifted myself off of the floor and wandered the length of my pipe—searching for any weakness, testing my prison.

  I could find none.

  From what I could see, the basement appeared to run the length of the house. There were boxes piled up all through the dark space—many moldy and rotting with mildew. I wondered if there might be something in one of t
hem I could use to escape.

  Moving back and forth along my pipe, I reached out with my legs, trying desperately to reach even one of the boxes. But—no matter how hard I tried—the boxes were simply too far away.

  Looking down in disgust, I finally saw the drag marks in the dust on the floor.

  It was useless.

  Somebody had already made sure to move the boxes just out of our reach.

  * * * *

  We were alone in that basement for two and a half days before anyone showed up.

  Without food.

  Without water.

  Without bathroom facilities.

  Ironically, of those three—it was not having bathroom facilities which was the most distressing to Cherry and me; it was humbling—and humiliating to have to ‘go’ in front of another human being.

  Plus, it smelled…bad.

  Cherry and I each chose a spot on our side of the basement for our ‘foul area’. And—although it was difficult—we could maneuver our handcuffs just enough to pull down our clothes to relieve ourselves.

  What we lacked, however—was privacy.

  To counter this, Cherry and I created a system. When one of us had to go, the other one agreed to turn around, close her eyes, and sing a song—loudly.

  Poor Cherry had it the worst, of course, because she also had an unconscious Jude by her side. Every time Jude messed herself—Cherry had to use one of her own socks to clean her up.