Page 141 of Hellbent

She didn’t reply. The thin sheets were bunched up beneath her knees, the folds like spread butter.

He said, “But you also have a choice.”

She swallowed. “Which is?”

“To ask yourself, do they still serve you? You can keep them and be angry. Or let them go and have a real life.”

“You can’t,” she said. “Let go and have a real life.”

“Not so far,” he agreed.

“I feel like I’m stuck,” she said. “I hate the Program, and I hate that I wasn’t good enough for it. And then I wonder—is that the only reason I hate it? Because I wasn’t good enough?”

“You were good enough to get out,” he said. “You know how many people have done that and are alive?”

She shook her head.

“For all we know, we’re the only two.”

She blinked a few times.

“You did that,” he said. “On your own.”

“Yeah, well, you never know what kind of strength you have until you have to have it.” She reached over, clicked off her light, and slid down onto her pillow.

“Good night,” Evan said.

He turned his light off as well. The blackout curtains left the room as dark as a crypt. He heard her shifting, burrowing into the sheets. And then a silence so pure that it hummed.

“Good night,” she said.

* * *

Evan’s RoamZone vibrated in his pocket. He drew it out and stared at caller ID, which sourced to a mobile with an area code in downtown L.A. He stood and took a few steps away from the final passengers waiting to get on the connecting flight in Phoenix. The flight attendant had just announced the last boarding group, so Evan waved for Joey to go ahead. He’d catch up in a second.

He clicked to answer. “Do you need my help?”

Breath fuzzed the connection.

“Yes,” Xavier Orellana said. “I want out. I want out of the gang.”

Evan said, “I’m coming.”

He hung up and got on the plane.

60

Not Good

“Know any good your-mama jokes?” Peter peered up at Evan and Joey as the elevator doors clanked shut.

His charcoal eyes were dead earnest, as if he were asking for a physician referral.

Evan and Joey had pulled in to Castle Heights right behind Mia in her Acura, returning from picking up Peter at school. Peter had practically run circles around the two of them across the lobby and onto the elevator.

Standing beside his mom, Peter yanked the straps of his oversize backpack. It looked like it was loaded with bricks. How many textbooks could a nine-year-old possibly require?

Joey said, “What are you talking about?”