Article 5

I chewed my thumbnails and hated that I cared.

After an hour I tiptoed down the hallway, only to find that Patrick’s light was still on. I could hear him shift on the couch, hear him turn the pages of that infuriating book. Why wouldn’t he just go to bed? I had a feeling he was staying up on purpose now, guarding his house to make sure we didn’t steal anything.

I didn’t entirely blame him.

I was on my way back to the room when I heard another creak in the floor, this time from the opposite end of the hallway. I ducked into the guest bathroom and waited. And then I heard the rattle of the basement door.

“Billings here?” I heard Mary Jane whisper. So she was in the basement, probably with the boy. I felt stupid for thinking them so naive; they’d been down there since dinner. It was where the family went when there was danger.

Billings. Who was Billings? The answer came to me slowly. Patrick had said his name earlier. He was their buyer. The person who took the cattle to the slaughterhouse.

“Not yet. Should be soon though. Keep the door locked.”

“You’ll be careful?” she asked in a small voice. “If he really is that guy on the radio, he’s dangerous. I can’t believe you brought them inside. And with Ronnie…”

“Don’t talk to me about Ronnie,” Patrick snapped, then sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t like it, either, but we got a thousand dollars for the last soldier. This one, he’s got to be more, what with the law after him and all. And who knows, maybe they’ll kick in a bonus for the girl. That would be enough to keep us here through the summer. We wouldn’t have to move to the city, like we talked about.”

My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a bag of thumbtacks. Everything became implicitly clear.

The Loftons had placated us with hospitality just to keep us here. I’d known something was off the moment we’d seen the inside of their house. A generator? Toys for the kid? Why hadn’t I trusted my intuition? Now we didn’t even have the gun.

Billings, whoever he was, was coming. The soreness in my body was forgotten. I had to get Chase, and we had to leave. Immediately.

I didn’t wait to hear any more. Silently, I hopped across the hallway back into our room and grabbed Chase by the ankle. He sat up quickly, but it was so dark that I could barely see him.

“What’s wrong?” he said, instantly alert. “Are you okay?”

“We’ve gotta go—they called someone. The boy and the mom are downstairs, and Patrick’s playing prison warden,” I told him in one expelled breath.

Chase was up in flash. He slid the baton into the waistband of his pants and pressed his knife into my hand.

“Here,” he said, shoving the backpack toward me.

“How are we getting out?” I asked. “Patrick—”

“Leave him to me. Ember, listen, all right? You go out through the back. Get to the woods and head for the road. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re not coming with me?” I’d heard it in his voice. He was going to make sure I wasn’t followed, whatever the risk to himself. I felt a little light-headed.

His hands cupped my face, his thumbs grazing along my cheekbones. He was close; I could feel the air move before my mouth when he spoke.

“Stay out of sight. Follow the road to Lewisburg and find the carrier. There’s money in the bag, enough to pay him off. Make sure you don’t show him all of it until you get to the safe house.”

“I won’t….” I was frightened now. My hands had covered his and were squeezing his fingers. I couldn’t believe he was saying this. I could not imagine leaving him here in such danger.

“Be careful who you talk to; keep your head down. You know what to do. Just don’t trust anyone.” His words tumbled out so quickly they nearly connected.

“But what about you? I can’t leave you here!”

“Yes you can!” he insisted. “Ember, I’m sorry for screwing everything up. I never meant to hurt you. There’s so much more…”

And suddenly his lips were on mine. Warm and demanding. Angry and afraid. Filled with everything his words could not say.

He pushed me back but then pulled me in once again, deepening the kiss, thrusting his hands through my hair. My fists knotted in his shirt, torn between shoving him away and refusing his dismissal. My head was spinning.

He ended it too soon, kissing me once more on the temple. Then we were gently pulling open the door, tempering the urge to rip it back off its hinges. I couldn’t believe I was preparing to escape without him. He’d have no money, no supplies. Everything within me told me this was wrong.

He’ll follow, I told myself. If he can.

I crept into the hallway, Chase right behind me. I would have to pass the living room to get out through the back door. Patrick was likely back on the couch, maybe with a weapon, reading. Watching. The lights would be on, damn the generator. He would see everything.

I passed the basement door and wanted suddenly to kick it as hard as I could. Had she been the one to call this Billings? Or was it Patrick? Yes, probably him. He could have done it while Chase and I cleaned up for dinner. All this, after we’d saved their child.

Chase passed me, his thumb grazing over my lips once more in the darkness. His good-bye, I knew, and felt the touch shoot straight through my core.

He walked into the living room, and I heard Patrick scramble up suddenly.

“Don’t get up,” Chase said in a low voice. “I was just going to grab a glass of water if it’s all right.”

“Sure. Here, let me,” Patrick offered. I caught one more sight of Chase’s back as he disappeared into the kitchen, and I prayed that it would not be the last. I snuck through the foyer, back toward the laundry room, but paused once my feet hit the linoleum.

If I opened the door, they’d be able to hear it from the kitchen. Chase knew this. He wasn’t going to let Patrick follow me. What that would entail, I didn’t know.

I listened briefly to the sound of water in the sink and muffled conversation. Every nerve within me felt live and raw. I gripped the door handle until my knuckles went white and it rattled under my grasp. The next time I heard voices, they were coming from was the living room.

Why isn’t he running?

But I knew: He was giving me time. He hadn’t heard me open the back door yet. I cursed him under my breath.

I gathered every ounce of courage within me, and raced around the corner, entering the kitchen from the opposite side. The lights were on, blinding my eyes, but the room was empty. I went straight for the fridge, grabbing all the keys from the black ceramic bowl beside it, and returned to the back door.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and bolted outside on numb legs. The freezing air slapped against my face, stealing my breath. I ran for the only thing I thought might help.

The generator. Just outside the kitchen window. Maybe if I could turn off the lights I could give Chase a chance to get out.

I slammed on the brakes in front of the humming metal box, searching desperately through the darkness for the switch. I didn’t have time to get the flashlight out. Every second mattered now.

In my silence I heard another sound break through the night and froze. Footsteps. They were far off; I thought for a moment it might even be the cows in the field. My spine went rigid when I heard low human voices, when the footsteps drew closer.

It couldn’t be Patrick and Chase: They were inside, as were Mary Jane and Ronnie. This had to be Billings.

I listened as hard as I could, but the noise from the generator blocked me from picking anything up. There were definitely men arriving at the house, but how had they gotten here? I hadn’t heard a car approaching.

It didn’t matter. Chase was still inside.

I felt down the serrated metal sides of the power source in a panic. Something burned my hand, and I bit back a cry. Finally I found the switch, flipped the protective sheath back, and shut down the machine.

My ears rang in the sudden presence of silence. The kitchen window above me went black.