Page 39 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

“Avery and I will stay,” Caulder says, and Avery blinks in surprise.

“Yeah, you guys can leave and get murdered,” Emerson says, flopping onto a chair. “You can take that Scooby-Doo shit out there, but I’m staying behind a locked door.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes narrow. You can practically see her thinking the word “coward” directly at him. She looks at Caulder, as if now he’ll take back his decision to stay since Avery won’t be alone. Clearly, though, Caulder doesn’t see Emerson staying as a safety upgrade. If anything, he looks more determined than before.

“All of you, keep your phones on you in case you get cell service, okay?” Caulder says. “And, Kait, don’t do anything…rash.”

She rolls her eyes. “Aye, aye, captain. Same to you.”

And then she heads for the door, Javi at her heels. And this is my chance to decide to change my mind. To stay.

Avery looks at me, and I think of finding Lucas upstairs. The blood everywhere. Mr. Jay’s body just outside the walls.

I can’t stay here.

“Be careful,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough to float to me as I head to the door.

“You too,” I say. Then I step outside, letting the cold night bite into my skin as the rain thrashes against my umbrella.

Chapter 21

Kaitlyn

October 17

1:42 a.m.

Of course he stayed with her.

Of course.

For the record, I’m not bothered at all that Caulder refused to see reason and come with us. No, I’m not upset. I’m not even surprised. As usual, I’m the one who has to make the hard choice. I’m the one who has to lead.

I’m the one who has to walk through the trees and bushes and mud and god knows what else in this fucking miserable rain.

“How far away is the road?” I ask Javi, who’s ahead of us with a flashlight he took from the house.

“I dunno,” he says. “I wasn’t exactly paying attention when the Death Van turned off the highway. But I think we’re going the right way.”

I noticed when we left that Javi insisted on going in this direction, which tells me Jay’s body must be somewhere around the other side. Now we’re following the road we walked hours ago to get to Thornhill Manor. It was more manageable then, but now the relentless rain has turned it into a mud puddle that threatens to send us sliding with every step. My shoes squelch beneath me, and my favorite sweatpants are so soaked that I have to retie the drawstring to keep them from falling down. And, yes, people are dying, but my immediate concern is when this rain is going to let the hell up.

Meanwhile, Caulder and Avery are nice and warm in that kitchen.

Not that I’m having regrets or think they made the right decision. Not after what Javi told me. But still. The anger coursing through me is a sharp, fast-acting poison in my blood that hums in my arms and legs. It’s the same anger that Coach Amakawa tells me to channel into volleyball, into my leadership.

“You make that anger matter,” she says. “You let it focus you. You let it drive you. But don’t you ever let it distract you.”

I guess there’s one good thing about the rain—that it’s covering up the tears I feel stinging my eyes. I never cry, and the raincoat I grabbed is partially guarding my face, but Javi’s perceptive and Marlene…I don’t know what she’s up to, but her eyes keep darting over to me as she struggles forward, her raincoat swallowing her it’s so big. Her umbrella keeps catching in the wind, threatening to pull her into the storm.

I gave up on actually using my umbrella, but I’ve held on to it in case I need it as a weapon. As a result, the rain strikes like little needles on what’s exposed of my face and hands, and I’m shivering with the kind of cold that goes down into the bone. Thank god I’m coordinated or I’d definitely be on my ass already.

And, Kait, don’t do anything…rash.

You should get to revoke nickname privileges when someone breaks up with you. Especially if they’re giving you bullshit commands.

“You’re thinking about him.”

I don’t know how Javi moved so quietly in all this rain and mud, but he’s suddenly next to me. Raincoat-less and umbrella-less, with his hoodie soaked through, but he doesn’t look sad or angry. Just his usual brand of brooding and serious, if slightly more intense than normal. His eyes, though, unnerve me, the way they practically beg me to be honest.