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ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue, how many people were there when you walked through the gate at the beginning of the road?
SARA: Me, Anthony, Mel, Miranda, Trina, Kyle, Jeremy, and Vanessa. So eight.
ASHFORD: But there was an odd number. In your testimony, you state more than once that there were nine of you. And three of you had to go through the darkness as a group as a result.
SARA: No—I mean, yes. That’s right.
ASHFORD: But you only listed eight names.
SARA: There were nine of us, though. You’re right.
ASHFORD: So who was the ninth?
SARA: I—No, I must be wrong. Me. Anthony and Jeremy. Mel and Miranda. Trina and Kyle. Vanessa. That’s eight. So there were eight of us.
ASHFORD: Then why did you need a group of three?
SARA: I don’t know!
She shoves herself up to her feet, stumbling back from the table. Her hands cover her face. Her left sleeve rides a little lower than the right; inked letters on her wrist appear to form the tail end of a word in spiky script, though not enough is visible to determine what it might say.
ASHFORD: It’s all right, Miss Donoghue. We don’t need to talk about this right now. We can return to the subject later.
He sweeps the photographs together and slides them back into the folder, resting his hand on it as if to reassure her that it won’t spring open of its own accord.
ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue?
Her hands drop. Reluctantly, she creeps back to her seat, sinking into it. Her eyes fix on the folder, and she chews on one thumbnail.
ASHFORD: You were telling me about the crow. That was before you found Becca, correct?
SARA: Yeah. Yeah, it was still early.
ASHFORD: When you described the gate, you called it thefirstgate. Can you explain that?
SARA: Yeah. Um. There are supposed to be seven gates. That was the first.
ASHFORD: What was the second?
SARA: You said there was another guest. Someone else is here? Who is it?
ASHFORD: Melanie Whittaker.
Sara nods, as if she expected this answer.
SARA: What has she told you? About the second gate?
ASHFORD: I would rather hear it in your own words.
SARA: The second gate was where things went wrong. Or where we realized how wrong they already were. The second gate was where we realized we weren’t the only ones on the road.
9
WE WALK MOSTLYin silence for the next stretch. I find myself walking next to Mel, toward the back of the group. She’s sipping from Trina’s water bottle, tiny sips that barely seem enough to wet her lips.
“I wasn’t going to come,” Mel says after a while. Her eyes lift to mine, then cut away.
“It’s okay. It’s not like any of us knew this was real.” It isn’t okay. I have held this bitter anger between my teeth so long the enamel has been eaten away, and no matter how undeserved it is, I’ve forgotten how to let it go.
