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She didn’t need to urge me any further. I took off in a run across my front lawn, leaving behind my home to be turned over and picked through like a dead corpse by a pack of hungry vultures, hoping to all fucking hope that I wasn’t running toward another one.
16
GABRIEL FERNANDEZ
The addressI’d gotten was about an hour away, closer to the mountains than the city, but with the speed I drove, it looked to be much less. Eric had jumped into my car at the last minute, sitting in the passenger seat under a vise of strained silence. I raced through the streets, zooming underneath yellow lights and cutting off slower drivers without remorse. There was no time to wave an apologetic hand, no time to feel bad.
All I kept seeing in my head was a tied-up Tristan, terrified and confused, wondering what the hell was going to happen to him.
I pushed down on the gas. The car’s engine gave a roar as I broke the speed limit on the highway. Rush hour was only just starting, the traffic picking up.
Just ahead were two large semitrucks on either side of me. One had its blinker on to switch into my lane. They started inching in. I sped up, getting pushed back into my seat as I threaded the car through the two trucks, earning a blaring honk from the one with the blinkers.
It was dangerous, but I couldn’t get stuck behind slow-driving trucks or lost tourists or frustrated commuters. I just had to get to Tristan. That was all that mattered.
Trist, fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m coming for you.
My grip tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turned a pale white, stark against my normally tan skin. The GPS cut through my focus by announcing the exit was coming up. I jerked the wheel to the right, cutting in front of a beat-up Honda. Eric held on to the “oh-shit” handle with one hand and the center console with the other.
I may not have to apologize to the truck drivers, but I definitely had to buy Eric a beer after this.
The exit dumped us off into a run-down town on the outskirts of the Blue Ridge Mountains. An abandoned gas station seemed to serve as the spot to meet up for all the drug dealers and their customers. The street was pocked with potholes, but I didn’t slow down. We were only ten minutes away, according to the GPS, and I was determined to make that in five.
The cracked road turned off into a rising hill, skinny trees encroaching on both sides, replacing the beat-up buildings and sketchy people. The houses here were tucked deep into the trees, separated by plenty of space. Mailboxes marked the dirt roads that led up to the small homes. We were almost to the destination. My heart pounded like a drum against my ribs. I was sure it couldn’t be healthy, but it only got more intense as I turned down the road, a cyclone of dust kicking up behind us.
“This is it,” I said, stopping the car in front of an unassuming home. It appeared normal, with white slats and a well-maintained front porch. But the red roof appeared to be needing a lot of work, and the iron bars on the windows gave an ominous hint as to what horrors went on inside those walls.
“Let’s stay together,” Eric said, grabbing his gun from his holster. I did the same, the heft of it in my hands acting like a comfort. If the Midnight Chemist was in there, then this nightmarish saga was about to come to an end.
We got out of the car, closing the doors as silent as possible. Gravel and rocks crunching under our feet mixed with the chorus of birds that sang all around us. I tried to pick up on any sounds of struggle or pain coming from the house but got nothing. It didn’t even appear like anyone lived inside. There were no cars, no furniture on the dirty porch, no lights coming through the shut blinds.
Except that the front door was left slightly ajar. The only sign of life. Eric watched my back as I inched toward the open door. Shadows slithered through the opening. I grabbed the doorframe, slipping my fingers into the shadows, and tugged the door open slowly. The hinges gave a low creak that made me freeze. We had the element of surprise here, and I wanted to make sure we kept it.
I opened the door all the way, revealing a barren living room with a stained beige rug and a ceiling that dipped in certain places. There was enough light coming from the open door to see that there were two simple lawn chairs placed in the center of the room, facing an ancient-looking television. There was a plate with a half-eaten and extra bloody burger sitting on the floor.
Eric and I went in with our backs to each other and guns aimed outward. There was a dark hallway that curved, cutting off our line of sight. We crept toward it. My heart raced. All I wanted to do was bolt ahead, crash through every shut door until I found Tristan. I wanted to take him into my arms and tell him it would be okay, that I had him. That’s all I wanted to do, but I fought that urge, my muscles straining with every small step Eric and I took, creeping deeper into the darkness.
Still no sounds. Was Tristan knocked out? Were we walking toward a trap?
No time to figure it out. Just had to act. Had to keep inching forward. It was getting harder to see the deeper we got into the hall. Eric tapped me on my shoulder and pointed in two directions. There was a closed door to my right and left. He motioned with his chin toward the one on the right. I signaled to the left.
We started to branch off. The silence only seemed to get louder, growing to a static roar inside my head. Maybe Tristan wasn’t knocked out; maybe the Midnight Chemist had already pumped him with toxins.
It felt like my heart was seconds from bursting through my chest. I put a hand on the cold doorknob and used that arm to steady the one holding the gun. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Eric’s outline in the darkness. He nodded.
We both threw our doors open. I aimed my gun and scanned the empty room from corner to corner. There was a slanted window that let in some light, highlighting a cloud of dust motes floating through the air. A dirty and uncovered mattress was pushed up against the wall. That’s when I noticed the chain that hung down and snaked onto the mattress, heavy bolts securing it to the wall.
But no Tristan.
“Anything?” I shouted to Eric.
“There’s a rug here—hold on, yeah, I found something.”
I cleared my room and went to Eric, standing next to him as we looked down at a trapdoor, open to reveal a flimsy set of wooden stairs. A lightbulb hung on an exposed wire. There was a blue and purple glow that came from somewhere in the basement, past the dim yellow light of the flickering bulb.
“Tristan?” I called out, already knowing our presence would have been heard. “Tristan?”
No one responded. Only the unending silence.
