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Walker reached down and yanked her to her feet. “Great. Now you’ve got blood on my nice carpet. Sally will have to clean up after you.” He dragged her into the kitchen. Alex gagged at the sight of it. Old food on the counters. Crusted dishes in the sink. Roaches ran everywhere. She could see them by the light of the lantern sitting on an old table.
“Please,” she said, hating the pleading in her voice. “Please. I can’t ... I can’t...”
“Shut up,” Walker snapped. He reached toward an empty paper towel dispenser. “Wipe off your face with this.”
As he spoke, a roach ran up his other arm and sat on his shoulder. Alex’s body convulsed with terror, but she reached for his empty hand, then pretended to wipe her mouth.
“Th ... thank you,” she choked out.
He smiled, his empty eyes burning with lunacy. “That’s better.” He transferred the gun to his other hand and scratched his shoulder, which sent the roach scrambling. It disappeared behind him. “My wife keeps an immaculate house, but there’s something here I must be allergic to.” He shook his head. “Makes me itch.” He put the gun back in his left hand. Walker was indeed left-handed, just like the Train Man. Not that the confirmation would help her now.
Walker pointed to an open door in the kitchen. “Let’s go downstairs. I want you to witness the final sacrifice. It’s an honor to force an angel to watch the war begin.”
“I’m ... I’m not an angel,” Alex said. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“Don’t lie to me!” he screamed. He held the gun over her head and moved closer to her.
Alex tried to think. Tried to come up with a plan to deal with him, but her mind was fuzzy. Fear had her in its grip. She forced herself to look away from the roaches scampering over the dirty dishes and filthy counters. She got a quick glimpse into a bedroom. An old bed, also layered in dust, was the only piece of furniture.
“I’m sorry,” she forced herself to say. “I am an angel. You know that some of us will survive the war. I ... I think I’m one of those.”
His eyes narrowed. “We’ll see, won’t we?” He gestured toward the door with the gun. “Go.”
Alex walked slowly. She didn’t want to go down there. She’d be trapped, and it would be much harder to get away. But she had no choice. Besides, the girl was there. If she had a chance to save her, she had to take it.
As she reached the stairs, another roach ran across her boot. She grabbed the side of the doorframe to steady herself, chiding herself for her unreasonable fear. She was an FBI agent. Trained. Valuable. Smart. She couldn’t allow her training to evaporate because of a stupid bug. It was beyond ridiculous.
Even as she tried to convince herself she could handle this, a voice in her mind told her she was in way over her head. The horror of her childhood couldn’t be reasoned away so easily. She could feel the beginnings of a panic attack, and she began to gasp as she fought to breathe. Dizziness tried to overtake her, and she knew she was going to faint. But if she fell down the stairs, she could be seriously injured ... or killed.
It took every bit of inner strength she had to put her foot on the first step leading to the basement and to try to calm down. As she took the next step, she prayed to a God she wanted to believe in. She would give Him her life if He could help her now. But that would take a miracle.
Slowly the dizziness began to recede, and she was able to catch her breath. She paused on the stairs as the fog in her brain started to evaporate. Then she clearly heard a voice say, Just trust me. Everything will be all right. Alex looked back at Walker, who glared at her. Who had spoken to her? Was she having a psychotic break too? This was the second time she’d heard a voice. Was it possible—
“Hurry up,” Walker said. “No one can help you. You can go down the stairs on your own, or I can push you the rest of the way. Like my father pushed my mother before he killed her, just like I killed my first five sacrifices. With a knife. Just like I’ll kill this one.”
So this was where Walker’s mother died. When Alex reached the bottom of the stairs, she focused on the woman tied to the table. She turned to look at Alex, her eyes wide with terror. A piece of duct tape covered her mouth.
Then her own eyes shifted to the man she’d seen through the basement window. He was still standing near the table, his back to her and Walker. When he didn’t turn around, Walker said, “That woman whose picture you showed me? She’s the one we heard prowling around outside. I’ve got her.”
“I see,” the man said. “I’m sorry you decided to join us, Alex.”
She recognized the voice even before he turned around.
Mike.
“This is nuts,” Monty said. “We’re gonna get stuck. Our phones probably won’t work. We’re going to freeze to death out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Logan glanced at him. “Remind me never to come to you when I need encouragement, okay?”
Monty didn’t answer, just kept his eyes on the road in front of them. A mile or so back, they’d switched places because Logan wanted to keep an eye on the map himself.
“You can get out here if you’d like, Monty. I can drive again.”
“You’re really funny. Ha, ha, ha.”
Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan had to agree with his negative friend. This was looking worse and worse. Monty slowed down as a mailbox was reflected in the car’s headlights, which were now set on bright. It didn’t take long to see there was no house here. Was this a fool’s errand? Logan was just thinking maybe they should go back and call for help when he saw an old street sign that said Waywind Road.
