Left with little choice, he calls her name because someone has to find this damn dog. The fact that she nearly skids to a stop at the back door proves he must sound on the edge of a breakdown already.
“Gator’s gone,” he says simply.
“Where?”
“Don’t know. Chased a squirrel, he was gone before I could grab him.”
“Okay. We’ll find him. He can’t get far. The whole community is fenced.”
It’s only then that he notices her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes and fresh tear tracks. He made her cry without even trying. That’s turning his world upside down in more ways than one.
She sniffles hard, looking away but still calm as ever. “Come on, we’ll grab some food for him and go look.”
They should talk about what happened, yet choose to ignore the glaring problem and leave the house to search for a distraction instead.
Despite everything, it’s not lost on him that it’s easier to step off that deck and into the unknown with her by his side again. This place is just as overwhelming now as it was the first time he walked through the gates.
The sun is out, shining down like a spotlight to burn his retinas and encourage everyone onto the streets.
Kids toss balls and ride skateboards down rough roads, grinding against his eardrums.
The fence is being reinforced. The steady tap of the hammer runs up his spine like a ghost.
A power saw hums in an open garage, slicing new boards for the supports and stopping him in his tracks. The blade catches the edge of a metal table and spits out sparks that remind him of the fire that Silas held his face over more than once. Just close enough to hurt without melting his skin off.
His palms begin to tingle while Kara urges him forward. She’d have an easier time searching for the dog alone. He’s only holding her back.
She calls for the animal that’s gotten them into this mess, asking passersby if they’ve seen him, only to come up empty.
It’s not until she catches sight of something behind him and her eyes go wide that his stress skyrockets. She yells a warning right as a hand grips his shoulder, triggering years of conditioned reflexes. Whoever it is might have said something, but he must run on a different frequency, like a fucking dolphin. Wade doesn’t hear a word until he’s already landed a punch to the unfortunate face of someone trying to greet him.
Everything is underwater again. The funny taste in the back of his throat reappears, and Kara’s voice gets further away as she offers an explanation on his behalf. It must work becausehis victim apologizes like they’re all caught in the Twilight Zone before wandering off.
“He just surprised you, it’s not your fault,” she’s offering absolution that he can’t accept.
“Need to go back. Not safe for anyone having me out here. It’s too soon.”
He belongs in that secluded house, in his secure little cave, where he can’t hurt anyone else. That’s where he has every intention of going until the dog barks in the distance and a tail disappears into the open door of the community pantry.
“Shit. We gotta go after him,” he sighs.
It’s not far. If they can grab him now, it’ll be easier than letting Kara resume the chase on her own.
The place is empty when they get there. There’s no one around to witness the disaster of a dog chasing his prey. Shelves lay toppled, and a trail of flour peppered with paw prints forms a path across the floor.
He whistles for the dog as Kara follows the obvious clue toward a basement entrance. She nudges the cracked door open and slips inside, only to have it fall shut behind her. He rushes forward and yanks at a knob that won’t turn. At the moment, it’s only an annoyance and nothing more. He pushes, and she pulls, but when the barrier refuses to budge, her words grow more panicked.
“Wade, get me out of here!” she begs, kicking at the wood.
“I’m fucking trying,” he yells back, throwing his weight against it with a curse. “What the hell is this thing made of?”
There may as well be a steel core in this unassuming door for how easily it keeps them apart.
When she begins to chatter in a litany of pleas he can’t quite understand, his worry shifts into overdrive. The scratch of her nails in a frantic attempt to escape has his world tilting on its axis as they greedily feed off each other’s anxiety. It flowsthrough the door like a current with every distraught word and frustrated kick. There’s got to be a key somewhere, but stopping to find it isn’t an option when they’re both caught in their own personal horror movie.
“Stand back,” he yells, grabbing a fire extinguisher from a far-off corner that he should have noticed before.
Three hits later, the door hinges rattle and break open, leaving the whole thing to slam open as it falls.
