Shades of Gray (31 page)

“Wait, what?” Jake asked.

I was already walking away from them and toward the next pair of cells.

“Shit,” Mia mumbled. She and Jake hurried to catch up. Gus had already beaten me to the next cell on the right and was wagging his tail and whining at the door.

I stepped up to the window. “Jake, get to work on that lock.” I held up a finger to the man staring back at me from the other side of the glass, then turned and jogged across the room. There was a man inside that cell too. “Hey, Michael! We’ve got more!”

Michael spun around and Rabbit had to grab him by the upper arms to balance him. I didn’t think the men in the rooms were a danger to us, only because our three guys had seemed pretty chummy with the one we’d already found and Gus was excited, not fearful.

“More? I wish someone would tell me what’s going on around here,” the new guy grumbled.

Michael said a few words to him, grabbing Rabbit’s arm and motioning toward the door Jake was working to unlock. “Jonah, keep eyes on our exit.”

“Yep.” Jonah jogged back to set up a position at our rear.

I went from observation cell to observation cell, tapping on the windows and motioning to the men inside that help was here, to hold on just a few more minutes. Gus followed behind, stopping at each door to whine and wag his tail. Mia strolled down the center of the room, gun held tight in her hands, keeping watch like Jonah was in the back. Rabbit and Michael made it to the next cell as Jake was popping the lock, waiting to greet the next poor bastard. They went through the same spiel as before, asking the same questions, getting the same answers. They introduced New Guy One to New Guy Two, then Jake moved on to the next door. I had made it to the end of the room, the last cell actually, when Mia stopped me.

“Watch that door, Kasey,” she said, referring to the locked exit leading to the laboratory areas.

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved her off and saw Gus going apeshit. He hadn’t been that excited at any of the previous five. With wrinkled eyebrows I watched him, not paying attention to the window.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” I asked him. The dog jerked his head up and stared at me, his tongue hanging out and his tail beating so hard it moved his whole body.

“Holy hell…” The tone of Mia’s voice turned me around,
fast
.

Her face was ashen and her eyes were fixed on the window. Panic bloomed on instinct, followed by anger at myself for losing focus on the task. I grabbed the sling of my shotgun, ripped it off my shoulder and swung the barrel around in a smooth arc. I gripped the pump and pulled the butt tightly against my shoulder. In seconds I was facing the window and aiming at whatever had scared the shit out of Mia. It was a ridiculous move; the windows were probably bulletproof and the door was locked. Whatever was inside couldn’t get out. It was pure reaction, not thought.

The sound I made next could only be described as a squeak.

The man on the other side of the glass rushed forward and plastered his hands against it, his face mirroring Mia’s look of disbelief. He mouthed my name and I replied.

“Dad?”

November 24th: eighteen years before Z-day

Dad always hung the Christmas lights the day after Thanksgiving.

Every year without fail, he’d drag his box of lights from the attic, methodically remove each strand, and stretch it out along the living room floor. He’d plug each one in and check for burnt-out bulbs. I watched him do this year after year, realizing once I was older that it was a sort of ritual for him. When most people were either out shopping or in the woods hunting, my dad would be decorating the house. He never asked for help, never wanted help. This was
his
thing. He was the Bringer of Light.

Once Dad was satisfied with each of his many strands, he would carefully roll each of them up and carry them outside to the porch. I always watched from the large picture window, backwards on the couch, my arms folded along the back with my chin resting comfortably on my hands. It was the same game every year, and I was the only one he would play along with. My brother and sister would be raising hell somewhere in the house, which always brought a round or two of scolding from Mom, but I’d be on the couch, playing the “window game” with Dad.

It usually started after the first string of lights had been wrapped around the porch banister. He would keep his back to me, pretending he didn’t know I was there. I’d giggle and snicker, always trying to be quiet, like Hide and Seek, even though I was in plain sight. All of a sudden he would spin around, make a roaring noise, and slap his hands against the window. I’d squeal and fall down onto the couch, then peek at him over the back after a time. He’d be casually attending his lights again, as though nothing had happened. We would do this over and over, Dad whirling on me and slapping the glass, me feigning shock and diving for cover.

Eventually the game would progress to hand puppet shows, then follow-the-finger. Dad would press the tips of both his index fingers against the window, and I would have to keep up with mine. Remember that game with the flashing colored lights, going off in a specific sequence, then you’d have to repeat the same or else it was game over? It was something like that. When you’re twelve years old and bored out of your skull, following your dad’s fingers around on a huge pane of glass makes for quite an afternoon. The best part of “the game” was when the window eventually fogged up. Those times I would outline a maze on my side, and Dad would have to find his way through it on his. Of course, it was around this time that Mom usually put a stop to it.

“Kasey! Stop smearing the glass with your fingertips!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

Then Dad would wink at me and get back to his lights.

Mom always despised cleaning the windows.

* * *

November 24th: present day

For over a year, I had agonized over the fate of my family. Were they alive? Were they dead? Were they dead and walking around? Had they looked for me? Had I given up on them too soon? Every so often I would tell myself I was over it, tell myself that they’d been killed on Day One, quick and painlessly. In fact, I thought I
was
over it. Or that I had at least swallowed the fact I’d probably never know the answers to my questions. Granted, these unanswered questions had considerably contributed to my mental instability. I thought I had fooled myself into acceptance.

My father staring back at me through a sheet of glass proved I had not.

The shotgun slipped from my hands and hit the hard floor. The sound echoed through the room, catching everyone’s attention. Their heads snapped my way, and Jake sprinted to Mia’s side.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Get the door open.” Her voice was like a light breeze sweeping across a corn field. Jake touched her elbow.

“Mia, what’s wrong with you?” He jabbed an index finger at the window. “Who is that?”

She spun on him then, grabbed him with both her hands, and shoved him toward the cell door. “Get the goddamn door open!”

Jake slunk away from her and didn’t argue. He turned his confused face away from us and went to work on the lock. Gus had stopped barking and was sitting at my feet whining, his tail thumping the floor. Michael, Rabbit, and the five captives slowly joined Mia and simply watched. Jonah’s ears had perked at all the commotion, but he held his position and covered our rear.

I stepped forward and pressed my hands to his on my side of the glass. Caleb Stratford, a.k.a. Dad, choked out a laugh and a few sobs, and fell to his knees. He kept mouthing my name, though I couldn’t hear him. Apparently the glass was soundproofed too.

“Hold on. We’ll get you out, Dad.” I could barely speak. My throat had constricted to a point I could hardly even breathe. My dad was alive. My
dad
.

Michael asked the other men if they knew the guy behind the glass. Of course they didn’t. They had been kept in isolation. Mia and Gus were the only two who knew. Mia was as staggered as I was. Reeling, in fact. She stepped closer to Jake and put her hand on his back.

“Almost got it,” he mumbled.

Dad put his forehead against the window and stared at me.

“Hold on,” I breathed, my own forehead falling against the window. Our faces being so close together must have been what finally made things click for Michael. He saw the resemblance.

“Wait…is that—”

“Got it!” Jake dropped the destroyed keypad and jerked the door open.

Dad struggled to his feet and stumbled to the open doorway, his eyes never leaving mine. “Kasey?” His knees buckled and he went down again.

Mia stayed rooted in place, not believing what her eyes were showing her. Gus immediately jumped on his old master, licking his face and whining fervently. Back when I’d first moved out and into my grandfather’s old house on the mountain, Dad had given him to me for company. Now he wrapped his arms around the beagle and squeezed while reaching out with one hand and groping for me. Breathlessly, I kneeled next to him. My arms hung at my sides. His eyes and hand found mine.

“Dad.”

He raised up on his knees and pulled me down on my own, Gus stuck in between us. A whimper finally escaped Mia’s lips, but I didn’t pay attention. I couldn’t pay attention to anything, I simply fell into his embrace. Hell, I plummeted. I sunk deep within my father’s arms and wanted to drown. We clung to each other for a very long time. He cried more than I did, because by that point I was nearly out of tears. Everything the group and I had been though over the past year had hardened us, until there wasn’t much left that could draw a sincere emotional reaction. I was wrung dry of nearly all emotion.

His hands found my face and tilted it up. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

I’m sorry, Dad, but I don’t know for how long. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.

I didn’t have the words for a reply. My lips twitched with the first real smile it’d known in a long time. He kissed all over my face, squeezed me once more, and at last we helped each other to our feet. I think we had both forgotten about all the people standing behind us. Until Jake spoke, that is.

“Hey, uh…you wanna—” He waved one hand back and forth between Dad and everyone else, but was looking only at me.

Words fell out of my mouth. “This is my dad.” Had he not been paying attention? Obviously I’d forgotten who I was dealing with. It was Jake, after all.

His eyes got big and he jumped. “Dude…” he said, then stepped forward to shake Dad’s hand. “Thought you were dead. Nice to meet ya.”

“That’s Jake,” I said after they shook hands.

“Jake.”

Dad dipped his chin in greeting. His eye caught the girl standing behind my tactless friend. Jake started to turn and introduce Mia, but found that none were necessary. Dad brushed past Jake and grabbed her, squeezing her as tightly as he had me. A few words were exchanged between them; she thumped his back a few times and kissed his cheek before he turned to Michael and the others. I was still standing by the cell door, trying to get a hold of myself.

“Name’s Caleb. I’m guessing you fellas,” he pointed to his fellow captives and stepped closer, “are like me. And I’m guessing you fellas,” he pointed to Michael and Rabbit, “are the cavalry. So I’m just gonna cut to the chase ‘cause we’re running out of time. I’ve been stuck here for a year, my family is here somewhere, and I’m going to find them. Help me or not, your choice.” Then he turned his back on them and faced me. “Kasey, you’re with me. I think your mother is still here, not so sure about your sister, and it’s too late for your brother.”

That was a lot of information to receive in twenty seconds.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Michael said. He walked up behind Dad with his hands up. “Mister, uh—” He stopped and glanced around, realizing he didn’t know Dad’s or my last name. “Uh, Caleb, just settle down a second.”

Dad turned and stared him down. He was taller than Michael and probably outweighed him by fifty pounds. Michael kept his hands up and took a step back.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was,” he cleared his throat again. Loyalties took over and I eased myself into the “conversation.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I planted a hand on Dad’s chest and pushed. “Michael’s the leader of our group and he’s saved my ass more times than I’d care to count.”

Dad huffed out his breath and made a face, something between a frown and a cringe, then glanced down when I took his hand.

“Yeah, okay.”

I met Michael’s eyes and urged him to continue. While Michael, and eventually Rabbit, brought Dad and the other men up to speed on what our plan was, I squeezed the hand I held and reluctantly headed over with Mia and Jake to the exit leading to the laboratory. Gus had attached himself to Dad. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. Jonah made his way to us from the other end of the room, and together the four of us plotted our next move while we waited.

“What did he mean about Ryan?” Mia asked.

“Who the hell’s Ryan?” Jake echoed. I rubbed my face.

“Her brother.”