Brightside (31 page)

“I’m looking for Becky,” I say.

“No Becky lives here.”

“Okay, but she’s on this floor. Do you know which one is hers?”

The woman scratches her scalp and something comes off in her nail. She pinches it and studies it.

“Please. Her name’s Becky. Wendell’s sister?”

“Oh,” she says, drawing out the word like it has fifteen letters. “Yeah, weird girl. She’s over there.” The woman points to the last door on the right. There’s still a piece of scab under her nail. I tell her thanks and start hobbling.

This floor seems so familiar, but I can’t remember ever being here.

I knock on the last door.

A girl says, “I’m in bed.” She sounds frightened, like she’s been caught doing something bad.

“Becky, I’m a friend of your brother’s. Please, just come to the door.” I hear her moving around. I also see the middle-aged woman peering out her door. But as long as she’s peering, she’s not calling the Boots.

Finally, the door opens and I see Becky, a frail, freckle-faced girl with big brown eyes that look like she’s been crying.

“You don’t know me,” I say, “but your brother sent me.”

“My brother’s dead.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry, but he asked me to make sure… Can I come in?”

It’s like she knows she’s being watched. She says, “No. I can’t have visitors.”

I’m not trying to get you in trouble, but your brother asked me to come get you.

Why?

So you can leave Brightside for good.

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I know she’s lying, but she’s also scared.

She starts to close the door, but I block with my left foot, pain ripping through my ankle.

I grit my teeth.
He risked his life for me, Becky. He did it so I could escape and so you could, too. Your brother wanted you to get out. He made me promise I’d come get you. Now, I can’t force you to do anything, but I gave Wendell my word. I owe him. That’s why I’m here. But you have to make up your own mind and it has to be right now. We don’t have any more time.

Becky stares at nothing, trying to process what I’m telling her, but she’s also thinking about Wendell. She knows her brother would’ve done anything to help her escape.

The door behind me opens and I hear this awful voice I know too well.

“
What the fuck are you doing here?”

Krystal.

And it all comes back. Lodge Two, second floor.

I stay focused.
So what’s it going to be, Becky?

“Oh shit.” Krystal laughs. “You’re a fucking pervert. She’s sixteen!”

Becky, you have to decide right now. Yes or no?

Becky keeps staring at the floor. She’s unable or unwilling to comprehend what I’m saying. I start to think this is a mistake. Here I am trying to convince a girl I’ve never met to run off with me into the woods. And Sharon’s ride is probably already here, about to leave, and I’m going to miss it.

But then Becky looks up with those big brown eyes and nods.

I silently tell her to get her coat, that we’re already late. She asks if she can pack a bag and I tell her there’s no time. Sharon’s club is leaving as we speak.

I shouldn’t have thought it, regretted it the moment it flew out of my head.

“You’re the ones causing this shit?” Krystal’s voice fills the entire lodge. “That’s why we have a curfew? So you idiots can try to escape?”

Krystal is shoving me, prodding her fingers into the back of my head. Other doors start opening, people popping out to see what’s going on. I try not to look at them, but I catch a young man’s eyes. He wants to know if it’s true. If there really is a way off this mountain.

I don’t mean to picture the pond, the carvings in the tree, the hill, and the cave, or maybe I do. I have no clue what I’m doing anymore.

Then another familiar sound, far worse than Krystal.

The faint sound of
bootsteps
.

And they’re getting louder and louder.

I jump into Becky’s room, slam the door, lock it. Krystal’s banging and screaming and telling everyone the traitor is right here.

Becky puts on her coat, her boots. I hobble to the window and open it. There are some bushes and it looks like a snow bank has blown up against the building.

Krystal’s outside the door telling the Boots to hurry up.

I take Becky’s hand, tell her it’s going to be okay. She ducks her head under the window and slips out first, her fingers gripping the sill. She’s terrified.

“It’s okay. Just jump.”

Words I never thought would ever leave my mouth.

But Becky lets go and falls, and I stick my head out to see her lying on her back. I can’t tell if she’s breathing, but then she smiles.

The key slips into the lock. The bolt turns. I stick my leg through the window, duck under and look back to see the doorknob turn. I let go. Just falling in the dark. The snow breaks my fall, but not really. I’m heavier than Becky and she already smashed a lot of the powder. I can barely breathe, but I pull myself up, keep most of my weight on my right foot as we run for the park.

I’m running, hobbling down the path, shouting for Becky to keep up. I hear voices in the distance. Someone says we’re heading for the trees.

I take Becky’s hand so we don’t get separated. She’s so light she’s not sinking in the snow like I am when we step off the path and into the woods.

I practically drag her between two enormous pines, the needles scratching our faces and clothes.

Someone yells, “Stop right there!”

But I don’t look back, just keep moving as fast as my ankle will let me.

“Are they going to shoot us?” Becky asks.

“No,” I tell her. “They have to warn us first.”

A cloud slides over the moon and I can hardly see all the rocks and dead logs. I nearly trip. So does Becky. I say, “Keep going, that’s all we have to do.”

I think I see the tree with my carvings, but I can’t be sure.

Gunfire erupts behind us, bullets blowing through branches on both sides.

So much for a warning.

Another bullet whizzes by. It’s so close my entire body is covered with goose bumps.

Carvings or not, I yank us right. My ankle’s practically numb from the snow and we sprint through a bunch of trees and start moving up the hill. Becky’s frail, but she’s a fighter, keeps churning, running, even when it sounds like she’s about to have an asthma attack.

Other than her labored breaths, I don’t hear anything. No more shots. I wonder if we somehow lost them. It’s only thirty yards to the cave. I squeeze Becky’s hand and keep pulling her up the hill until we hit the rubble.

I look back expecting to see a dozen Boots storming like it’s the beaches of Normandy, but no one seems to be coming.

I realize Wayne’s body is missing, too. I know he didn’t just stand up and walk away though. I saw the bullet enter his psychotic brain. There’s a three-foot wide path that leads to the trees. The
Brightsiders
must have dragged him away to keep the Boots off our trail.

I lift Becky over the few remaining rocks blocking the cave, set her down in the darkness.

“What is this?” Becky asks.

I silently tell her to be quiet.

I’m not holding her hand, but I know she’s trembling. I reach into my pocket for my keys, but my fingers are so frozen I can’t keep a grip. They clang on the ground. I kneel, put my hands on the cold dirt and sweep around and around until I hear a jingle. I pick up the keys and hold them in front of my face, but I can’t see anything but black.

I
wanna
go home
, Becky says.

Hold on…

Danny’s little flashlight clicks and shines across the ground. I see the rusty steel tracks.
We just have to follow these. Come on
.

Becky wraps her hands around my arm and we start moving. The wooden beams creak as we descend down the belly of the mountain. The tunnel splits after a few hundred yards. I take us right. I silently tell Becky what part of the mountain we’re walking under, even though I’m not entirely sure. I just know she loosens her grip a little. She asks if this could collapse.

Out loud, she asks, “How would anyone find us if it does—”

I cover her mouth. There’s someone coming. They’re a ways behind us, but not that far.

I silently tell Becky we have to run. I’m pretty sure she’s nodding even though I can’t see her face. I quicken our pace, remind her to tread lightly, to keep quiet, even though I can’t. The numbness in my ankle has worn off, and the pain is searing. I keep dragging my left foot no matter how much I try not to. It’s scrapping across the rocks and dirt and echoing so loud.

Becky takes the flashlight, which lets me balance better. I put one hand on her shoulder.

How much farther?
she asks.

I honestly don’t remember. It’s been two weeks since I’ve stepped foot in the mineshaft, but I don’t think we have far to go.

But the Boots are getting closer. I can’t tell how many of them there are, but it really doesn’t matter since I don’t have the shotgun.

Suddenly, more voices. Familiar ones. But not from behind. They’re just up ahead. I see the end of the rope ladder anchored into steel plates under the tracks. Each rung gets a bit brighter. The exit to the mine is ten yards away.

And we have company.

Danny and Sara are standing at the edge, a hundred stars twinkling behind them. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, but I’m still mad.
What are you doing here?
I ask.

“Joe!”

I slam my hand over Danny’s mouth and turn back to the darkness. I can’t tell if the Boots are moving quicker or not.

I turn to Sara.
I told you to go.

Danny refused.

Yeah, I refused.

I step up to the edge and look down two hundred feet. The last of Sharon’s club is loading into the back of a huge moving truck. Sharon walks up to the driver. I can’t see his face, but he’s clearly pissing her off. Her arms swing wildly as she screams. But the guy’s not budging, and Sharon looks up at us. I can barely hear her saying, “Fucking move!”

Come on, we have to go, Danny. Can you do this?

Danny nods and gets down on his knees. He grips the rungs. Little by little he crawls backwards, down over the edge.

Sara is telling him to be careful. He’s almost vertical when he just stops. Sara’s eyes pop.

What’s wrong?
she asks.

Danny must think since he’s outside now, hanging off the edge, that he can talk as loud as he wants. “I found your gun, Joe!”

Danny, be quiet.

Danny’s face turns red. I silently ask him where it is and Danny’s head jerks towards my left. I fear he’s going to fling himself right off the ladder.

But there it is, up against the rock wall of the tunnel.

American metal. Dad’s gift.

I walk over and pick it up.

The Boots are getting closer. We all hear it.

Danny, you have to hurry,
Sara thinks.
But be careful!

Danny keeps climbing down and I tell Becky to go next. I don’t know why I think she’s going to have a problem with this after she jumped out her window, but it’s a short fear. She drops to her knees and descends like she’s been living in a circus. She even has to slow down to keep from stepping on Danny’s head.

Sara and I lean over and watch them like two proud, nervous parents. But reality comes screeching back when I see the flashlights.

Sara, you need to go. Now!

Sara struggles more than Danny or Becky, but soon she’s over the edge. I’ve got the shotgun aimed down the tunnel. I give a quick look back over my shoulder and see Sara staring up.

Joe, come on!

I’ll catch up. Don’t worry. Keep going.

My finger’s tight against the trigger, and it feels good. It’s not just a gun anymore. It’s our savior and protector, and it’s going to make sure Sara, Danny, and Becky make it to the truck.

I hardly know Becky, but I’m glad she made it. I only wish I could’ve brought more. It feels wrong to leave so many behind, but there’s nothing I can do.

I slide over to the rock wall and lean against it, try to stay out of the moonlight. I don’t want the Boots to see me and duck back, turning this into some prolonged gunfight. I’m too tired and sore, and I don’t have enough ammo.

Two hundred feet down, that’s all that stands between me and home, wherever that might be.

The Boots are arguing with each other. They’re telling one to shut up. They must see the ladder, because they’ve stopped moving. The flashlight clicks off. I was hoping they’d keep it on to let me know where to shoot, but it probably would’ve blinded me.

One eye closed. Shoulders relaxed. Barrel up.