The Secret: A Thriller (12 page)

I had to detour twice when the pipes wouldn’t go where I wanted them to, but eventually I lowered my face to just above a classroom’s drop ceiling, and listened.

Nothing at first. Then a faint buzzing of insects, and what sounded like wind outside the building. Far off, a few seconds later, I heard what might or might not be voices.

I grabbed the corner of a tile—the layout seemed to be the same here as in the hallway I’d escaped—and
lifted
.

Light, again, and having learned my lesson I kept my face away from the opening for a few seconds in case flying bugs wanted to use it.

But they didn’t. I propped the tile where I hoped I would be able to reach it from below, then tied the other extension cord in case I needed to come back up. Then I twisted myself around, lowered my legs…and dropped to the floor in an empty classroom.

I froze, listening again, but heard nothing.

Moving to the door, I peeked out into the hallway. All was quiet.

I went in search of another janitorial closet. If I could, I wanted to find a broomstick or something to close up the ceiling. No sense advertising my path.

I hoped John, if he decided to follow me, would make it.

* * *

H
ours later, I waited in—just for luck—a different classroom. I stayed put against the outside wall, below the level of the windows, except once in a while when I raised my head to look outside—and to do that I inched closer to the center of the room to make my moving face harder to see.

I saw a few vehicles arrive, and leave later. They’d clearly been military. So the Reverend and his people were talking with them? I wondered what they found to say to each other.

Come to think of it, were the military still keeping Henge’s residents sealed in? All this driving around, and probably cooperation in fighting the fanged creatures earlier, didn’t look much like a standard quarantine protocol….

I decided it didn’t matter yet. I’d grab Tim if I got the chance—though I didn’t see how—but with or without him, I’d get out of the school and back to Rebecca and Abigail as soon as I could.

I still didn’t have much of a plan. I could get back up to the ceiling if I wanted to, but otherwise this wing of the school seemed to be sealed off. The only way out I could see was breaking a window on the east side, away from the courtyard, and making a run for it.

Maybe darkness would help. Ignoring the issue of helicopters and night scopes. And sentries.

Or I could get back up above the ceiling, work my way back to where I’d been, hope I could quietly get through the wall on the far side to where Reverend Bob’s people were running around, and try to listen to what people were saying. And somehow get Tim. Bring him with me.

If this were a movie, I figured, that’s exactly what I’d do. But I was tired, bloody, hungry, thirsty, stinky—that alone might give me away—and at the end of the day, how would starting my escape near a crowd of alert and armed people help me get back to my family?

So I waited. Eventually, I fell asleep.

* * *

D
arkness. But not absolute.

Still groggy, I crawled away from the windows and used a desk to pull myself up.

Outside, I saw men patrolling the area. With flashlights. That wasn’t good.

Then I heard gunshots—two of them. And a monstrous buzzing roar—as if all the insect life in Henge were coming together, swarming, angry and screaming with it, planning to bite and sting and eat anything in their path. In fact…that was probably
exactly
what was happening.
Fun
.

Then the men with flashlights ran off to my left, toward the noise. All together, as if summoned somehow.

Maybe they’d had working radios, or they’d somehow heard a shouted command I hadn’t been able to make out. But I doubted it. Their movements had seemed a little
too
coordinated.

I broke the window, and climbed out into the night.

* * *

M
ore gunshots, more swarming. Men, bugs…flashlights and headlights…all to the south, so I moved north.

From behind: “Ashton! Hold up!”

I stopped. Who—?

John ran past me. I puffed out a laugh. All that effort I’d put into my escape, and he’d probably just broken a window in the confusion. “Dude,” he whisper-screamed as he went by, “everybody in there’s going nuts! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

I followed him. We were in the open—exposed. Ahead was a parking lot with cars in it. Not much good for cover, but the best option in sight…

“Halt!”

I heard a gunshot ahead of us, and a flashlight speared John’s face.

I slowed and began circling to the right.

One man, holding a handgun and the flashlight out in front as if he knew what he was doing. “Hands over your head!” he yelled.

Mike Eisler, I realized. Still in uniform, too. Well, he’d always seemed to like them.

John did what he was told.

I couldn’t leave him. But I was unarmed. What could I do?

Then Eisler flicked the flashlight around. I tried to duck but he pointed it right at me.

“What the hell, Ash?” Eisler shouted. “Are you still following me?”

I walked closer. “Mike,” I said urgently, “I need to—”

“Get the hell out of here?” Eisler asked. He glanced at John, then seemed to make a decision. He lowered the gun, holstered it, and reached for his belt.

John bolted—back the way we’d come, back toward the school.

I wanted to yell after him, but didn’t dare. Eisler drew his gun, sighted quickly, and fired. John fell and didn’t move.

Then Eisler turned back to me. “You’re not one of them, are you?” he asked, the gun pointing at the ground near my feet.

I stared, flatfooted. “No,” I told him.

Eisler sighed. “Didn’t think so.”

“But…why…?” I looked back to where John was lying on the ground.

“Not one of my people,” Eisler said. He gave an apologetic shrug. “This is—it’s like a war, Ash. I’d have let him go
with
you, but I couldn’t have him stay here and tell anybody I let you get away. The Reverend wouldn’t like it.”

Eisler spat onto the ground. “That arrogant bastard tells me I should trust the process. I figure he’s waiting for me to turn into one of his slaves, and meanwhile…anyway, just
go
.”

I stepped forward. “Mike? Come with me?”

Eisler breathed out through his nose. “My guys are still here. Where’s your family?”

I shook my head. Not a question I would answer.

Eisler scowled at me, then nodded. “Not here, I know that. Your brother saved my ass in Iraq, man. And we both know what it cost him. So that’s something I owe you for. Your family. But…this is it, this makes us even, Ash. No more freebies. Don’t be surprised.” Then he tossed me a set of keys. “Take the cruiser at the end.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. I’d started to believe Eisler was unaffected. Mentally. By whatever was going on. Was he? Or…

He glared and brought the gun up again, aiming it squarely between my eyes. “Go!”

I turned and ran for the car.

* * *

I
drove as fast as I dared, headlights off. Nobody followed me. I slowed, pulled off the highway onto Ninth Avenue—it would take me back toward downtown, which was probably a bad idea, but it also gave me a little peace of mind to get off the main roads.

What was safer? Driving across town, attracting attention, or getting out and walking back toward my family?

Then I heard helicopters again. No way I’d be able to hide from them in the car, if they were after me—I opened the door, cursed when the dome light came on, and jumped out.

Shoving the door back into place, I scanned the area. Where…?

There! I spotted a house I knew, that backed up to Fish Creek, and ran for it.

The choppers came closer, their blades chewing the air and roaring overhead…

And then they were gone, moving through the night toward the high school.

I crouched in an oversized culvert under F Street, near a favorite fishing spot for kids, and shivered. The night was chillier than I’d realized.

Unarmed, hungry, scraped, unbelievably smelly, surrounded by strange creatures I didn’t understand…I smiled, a little, surprising myself.

It was good to be out of the shelter. I’d start from that.

But I decided to wait where I was until morning. I didn’t want to drive the police car any further, because it would be too easy to turn a corner, get spotted by someone looking for me or it—if anyone were looking—and then what would I do? Easier to walk, obviously carrying no supplies—no reason, maybe, for anybody to mess with me.

I could almost believe it would work.

But the cold air wasn’t doing me any favors. My left foot, leg and shoulder ached beyond belief. Pretty soon I’d need to find some medical supplies.

Which reminded me of Abigail, and how I still didn’t know what to do for her. If she was still alive.

I wanted to go to her right away. But…to do what?

Somehow, I slept.

* * *

W
hen I woke the moon had set. My head felt a little clearer. I started moving along the creek bed, wending my way between strange backyards. Up ahead would be one more bridge, and in a couple of places I’d need to climb up and walk across a road where the creek passed through a smaller culvert…but the creek was still higher than usual, and made what I hoped would be enough noise to cover my passage.

I hung a left where the creek split. This branch—I didn’t think it had a name—connected to Bois d’Arc creek, which then branched out into three or four other creeks in the area.

One of which went into the scrub woods, and eventually became Great-Granddad’s stock tank.

The sun rose as I picked my way along the creek within a few blocks of Rose’s house.

I hesitated. Abby needed me. Rebecca probably needed me. And Rose had been gone the last time I’d stopped by…permanently, for all I knew.

It didn’t matter. I climbed out of the creek and walked, slowly, hands visible, down K Street.

I’d abandoned Rose once, in the Walmart parking lot. That was more than enough of that.

* * *

M
y truck stood in Rose’s driveway this time. I approached the house, slowly, not daring to hope—and then I walked into a familiar stench.

I stopped in Rose’s front yard and closed my eyes. Maybe it really was a deer this time. Or a dog, or a neighbor I didn’t know. The usual suspects, who never seemed to be guilty…

Enough. I had to keep moving. So I did.

I spotted a denim-wrapped leg poking out from around the side of the house, and the dread settled deeper into my chest…Rose had always loved her blue denim coveralls for any work she did in her flower beds…but I got closer, and took a deep breath of relief, and regretted
that
immediately.

But it wasn’t Rose.

Some older guy I didn’t know, lying spreadeagled with his face—not his eyes; they were gone; eaten by birds or other small animals, I supposed—anyway, with his face turned to the sky and still somehow looking surprised at what had happened to him.

I stood above the dead man, breathing through my mouth, and relief washed through me.

But if this guy had been driving my truck…where was Rose? She wouldn’t have left a body lying beside her house to rot—no matter that he might be too big for her to lift; she’d find a way—so she was either far away, or…

I checked the house first, but nothing had changed inside. Then I saw her.

In the backyard, sprawled across her azaleas. I didn’t want to see any more, but I walked over to take a closer look anyway. I’d abandoned her often enough. Maybe now that it didn’t matter, I could do better.

Her body…it was…Rose hadn’t died easily. I’ll leave it at that. It’s not something I want to remember.

I went inside and sat for a while. Eventually I went to my truck, got my spare key from its hiding place in the left rear wheel well, and opened it up.

I found my computer inside the cab, in the passenger-side foot area. God knows why. Had Rose tried to bring it back to me for some reason?

I carried the machine inside, then sat and stared at it.

I didn’t really want to look for more news from out of town. I figured I wouldn’t learn anything good. Otherwise why were we still on our own here? But I knew I had to look. Plus, maybe there would be information that would help Abby.

First, though, I went into Rose’s shed and found a shovel.

I buried her next to her home, right where she’d fallen. I tried to save the azaleas, but I wasn’t sure whether I’d succeeded. If they didn’t make it, I decided, I’d come back and plant more. If I could.

Standing over her grave, with a light rain falling on me, I tried to think of something to say. But I’d never been the sort to pray. Or be there for Rose, either. Though I’d have given a lot to change that.

“I’ll miss you, Rose,” I said finally. “I hope you’re in a better place.”

I
booted up the computer, but Rose’s satellite box couldn’t get a connection.

Maybe the uneven current from my cheap inverter had damaged it. Or…not. Maybe the satellite itself had quit working, or was no longer accepting connections. Or had burned up in the atmosphere after stumbling on aliens.

Whatever; I felt almost relieved. Getting online was the practical thing to do. But success would have felt—disrespectful. Somehow.

But it meant I still didn’t know how to help my daughter. If she still needed me.

I gathered some food—mostly canned goods—and put them in a makeshift sling I’d made out of a bedsheet. It wasn’t far from Rose’s place back to the woods, and I wanted to show up with food in hand when I got to the basement. Where I might find more evidence of my failures. Had I ever, at any point in my life, really known what I was doing? Or had I always just muddled through like this?

It mattered, now. I needed to come up with a plan.

The food bag was heavy—too heavy, probably. I took it all anyway. If I had to I could find a place to stash some of it partway.