Before I Wake (24 page)

He bent his head and examined the keys, running a finger along the cut edge.

Suddenly, he imagined a knife slicing into flesh. A gaping wound across the throat. Hitting the jugular. Blood not only running over his hands, but also pumping. Splashing in his face.

He shook himself and jammed the keys in his pocket.

They needed help. All of them. Arden might be right about Harris being the one who’d fucked them up, but Eli was beginning to think he might also be the only one who could fix them.

“We need to go back,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him in horror. “To the Hill?”

Her reaction was no surprise. She wouldn’t go back. Eli didn’t know how Harley stood on the issue, but the guy sure as hell wasn’t coming with them. No, it would be him and Franny.

He needed to get Franny out of there. He’d seen the way Arden’s brother had looked at her.

For a year, Eli had watched Franny in the arms of Noah. And Noah had been so
wrong
for her. Why were women attracted to men who were so wrong for them? That’s what he wanted to know.

Arden glanced up at the dark window. “We aren’t homing pigeons.” She looked back at him, and her eyes narrowed. “You have to fight the urge to return.”

What was she talking about?

“You know what I think?” she asked. “I think they programmed you to return. I think they programmed you to go back to the Hill.”

He shook his head. That was insane.
She
was insane.

“Once you realize that, you can fight it,” she said.

“Like realizing when to stop drinking?”

Oops
. He shouldn’t have said that.
Don’t piss her off
.

She laughed. Thank God, she laughed. Because his heart was beating fast. His hands were sweating and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she was going to kill him or anything.

She jammed her hands deep into the pockets of the navy blue hooded sweatshirt she always wore. It was unzipped. Underneath was a black T-shirt.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Get the hell out of here. But don’t go back to the Hill. Go home to your family. Get the Hill out of your blood.”

“Spaghetti’s getting cold!” Harley shouted from downstairs.

Eli mentally embraced the normalcy of those words. One big happy family, ready to sit down to a meal together. It made him want to cry.

For years, he couldn’t wait to get away from his family. Be on his own. Now he’d give anything to have them around him at this very moment.

“Maybe you should wait until morning,” Arden said. “It’ll be hard to see the signs in the dark. You might get lost.”

She was concerned about him. That made him feel like crying too.

“They were talking about a big storm on the news,” he said.

Cyclone is coming
! What was that from?
The Wizard of Oz
? Yeah, that was it.

Funny how many times something in his life had referenced that movie. Was it like that for everybody?

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Arden said.

Eli scooped up the vodka bottle.

Somebody had to cut her off.

Eli wasn’t a confrontational person, but he’d always had a talent for stating his position, then getting the hell out of there. The present moment couldn’t have been more opportune. “You know-damn well I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known the person who murdered your parents was still running around free,” he said.

With that, he made a quick exit.

Things were getting weirder—which twenty-four hours ago wouldn’t have seemed possible.

But there was Harley, sitting in Arden’s dad’s chair. Franny in Arden’s mother’s. Eli was where her brother had always sat. And Arden… She was in her old seat, staring at the plate of spaghetti Harley had placed in front of her.

And she was drunk.

Very drunk.

Had anybody noticed?

At the bar in New Mexico, she’d learned how to hide her inebriation. But only to a certain point, that point being when she could no longer walk. When she kept losing her balance and falling over.

Was she there yet?

No, but she was close. Very close.

The secret was to keep your mouth shut. Unless you tumbled off your chair and fell on your ass, nobody would know how messed up you were.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Harley asked. “You haven’t eaten anything since last night.”

He was coming around. The fog was lifting from his brain, almost like it had washed down the drain with the bathwater. And Harley was definitely a looker. She realized that now that he’d gotten rid of the hair on his face.

Even Franny’s jaw had dropped when she’d seen him. She was still staring at him, her eyes big, following his every move.

This was like watching a movie. That’s what it was. Remove yourself and observe.

Eli and Franny got to their feet and put their dishes in the sink. They left the room, and when they came back they were wearing winter jackets that had belonged to Arden’s parents. They were holding backpacks.

“We found these in the closet,” Franny said, indicating the heavy green down jacket and Eli’s navy blue one. “I hope you don’t mind.”

They were leaving. Arden had forgotten about that. And Eli had somehow convinced Franny to come with him.

Even if Eli was mad at her, she didn’t want them to go.

“There should be gloves and hats in the cedar chest.”

Very adult. Very sober and responsible.

Eli pulled a stocking cap and gloves from his pocket. “Already found them.”

Arden got up from the table and walked with them through the dining room and living room, to the front door.

“It’s snowing!” Franny shouted, sounding both alarmed and excited. She hurried outside.

“It wasn’t supposed to hit this soon,” Eli said with dismay as he stepped out after her.

Arden followed.

The porch light was on, illuminating giant flakes as they came down. The snow was already several inches deep.

Arden wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.”

“We’re going now.” Eli tapped his coat. “I’ve got a map. We’ll be okay. What about you? I don’t want to leave you stranded. Are you sure your brother will be back?”

“He’ll be back,” she said, even though she had her doubts.

They hugged. Harley appeared. They hugged him too.

The yard was equipped with automatic lights on top of three telephone poles. It was never completely dark unless the power went out.

Maybe more was said. Arden wasn’t sure. All she knew was that suddenly they were leaving, turning to wave at the last minute, Franny wearing a pair of red-and-pink mittens knitted by Arden’s mother.

Arden watched them run down the hill, then disappear around the corner, laughing like a couple of kids. They
were
a couple of kids.

For a second she wished she was going with them. It seemed they’d be leaving the bad things behind and heading off on an adventure.

“I’m going to go do dishes.” Harley opened the door and paused, as if expecting Arden to come inside with him.

The cold air felt refreshing. It was sobering her up a little.

Was that a good thing?

Maybe not.

There was always more alcohol, she reassured herself. Not that her parents had been drinkers, which explained how they’d accumulated so much booze over the years from people who’d brought bottles as gifts on various celebratory occasions.

“I’ll be in soon,” she said.

The idea of being alone with Harley was strange. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

He squeezed her arm, smiled, and headed into the house, the screen door closing behind him.

From down the hill came the sound of the barn door sliding open on the metal track, followed by the muffled slam of car doors, then an engine firing up.

As Arden watched, headlights appeared, illuminating the thickly falling snow. They drove up the hill, toward the gate and the mailbox with the backward letter.

She would miss them, she realized.

Suddenly she felt sad. Really, really sad.

Was she crying? She
was
. Her cheeks were wet. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

They were almost to the gate when the car sputtered and died. Then came sounds of an attempted start. That was followed by a
click, click, click
. The driver’s door opened. Eli came slipping and sliding through the snow. She stepped off the porch and began walking toward him.

He lifted his arms straight, then let them drop at his sides. “We’re out of gas.”

That was too bad. They used to always have diesel on the farm, but not regular gas. Never any regular gas.

Eli was still coming at her. Now she could see that he was pissed. Really pissed.

“You did it on purpose!” he yelled, even though he was only a few feet away. “You knew the gauge didn’t work right. You let my car run out of gas!”

She laughed. Right in his face, because it was so ridiculous. Why would she do that? It had been dark. Nothing had been open.

He shoved her. Walked right up and shoved her. “You bitch!”

She shoved him back. “Dumb ass.”

He shoved her again.

Arden made a fist and punched Eli hard enough to knock him down.
There, you damn hippie baby
. She grabbed her stinging hand, then shook it.
Ow, ow, ow
.

From somewhere in the background, in the dark, Franny was screaming, begging them to stop.

Eli staggered to his feet. Without pause, he charged, his head making contact with Arden’s belly, driving her to the ground. She shifted her weight, rolling him over in a cloud of snow.

The quick movement made her dizzy.

This was crazy.

Crazy fun!

Suddenly the roar of an engine came out of nowhere. Headlights blinded her. A door squeaked, then slammed. At first, in her confusion, Arden thought Franny had somehow gotten the car started.

“Jesus Christ.”

Not Franny.

Daniel.

His long legs scissored in front of the headlight beams. “Have you been fighting ever since I left?” He pulled Arden off Eli, but kept a grip on her sweatshirt hood. “You’re like a bunch of retarded monkeys.”

Arden wiped the back of her hand across her nose and tasted blood. Franny had her arm around Eli, making comforting sounds.

Was he crying? It sounded like he was crying.

Such a baby!

She pointed at the retreating couple as they headed for the house. Harley was silhouetted in the front door, most likely wondering,
What the hell
?

“He started it,” Arden said. “And I barely touched him.”

“Here.” Daniel grabbed her hand and slapped a ball of snow into it. “Put that on your nose.”

She held it to her face and tipped her head back. And kept going… Until she was flat on the ground.

It seemed a good time to make a snow angel. “Remember when we used to do this?” she asked, waving her arms and legs, snow filling her sneakers and numbing her bare ankles.

A shadow bent over her. “You’re drunk as fucking hell,” came Daniel’s voice from the shadow. “What
are
you doing? What were you thinking, coming here? What
are
you thinking?”

She continued to flap her arms and legs. “Saving their lives,” she chanted as she flapped. “Saving their lives.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a regular goddamn superhero.”

The sarcasm in his voice hurt. Hurt bad.

Suddenly, in one of those moments of absolute clarity that sometimes occurred with a high level of intoxication, she understood exactly what had happened, exactly what she’d been doing.

She’d convinced herself that she was saving them. Saving them all.

A delusion.

Total delusion.

Harley hadn’t been in danger. Not immediately in danger, anyway. Neither had Eli or Franny. She’d convinced herself of the threat so she could rescue them. So she could absolve herself of her horrible, horrible sins.

She rolled to her knees, then staggered to her feet. With both hands, she shoved at Daniel’s chest. The move took him by surprise, and he stumbled backward. “Go to hell,” she told him.

Go to hell for making her see what she didn’t want to see. What she couldn’t stand to see.

That there had never been any immediate danger.

The only real danger was that they might take off in the middle of a blizzard, get lost, and die. The only danger was they might freeze to death. Or lose a nose and a couple of fingers to frostbite. The only danger was the danger she’d put them in.

They were just a bunch of idiots running around in the snow, in the middle of the night, dressed in dead people’s clothes.

Now it was her turn to be the crybaby. To dissolve into tears and drop back down in the snow, then sprawl on her belly.

She wanted to die. Right here, right now. To close her eyes and never open them again.

Even though she recognized the scene as melodramatic, she couldn’t help but embrace it.

Snow was coming down heavily. She wanted it to cover her. She wanted it to smother her.

She had no idea how long she remained on the ground before she felt hands on her shoulders.

“Leave me alone.” She tried to knock the person away, but he hung on all the harder.

He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go inside.”

Not her brother, but Harley. It was Harley’s voice. Harley’s hands.

She glanced to her left, to where Daniel stood silent and watchful, a heavy layer of snow building on his stocking cap and the shoulders of his jacket.

Her little brother.

Shame washed over her.

Was there an afterlife? If so, were her parents also watching? Witnessing her decline into a white trash, alcohol-guzzling, dysfunctional idiot?

Not a pleasant thought.