“And they can keep waiting,” Mom snaps. “We need to find Piper!”
“If you want, I can go talk to them,” he offers casually. “Tell them the situation and put their minds at ease. Maybe they can help with the search. They know this area better than we do.”
A stricken Alec only nods, tears in his eyes.
“That would be great, thank you,” Mom says, holding Alec.
Mr. Sterling tips his head into the kitchen. “Wow, imagine that. Some woman . . . living in the basement. All these years.”
Ms. Suga’s head pops up at the sound of Mr. Sterling’s voice. With a croaky scream, she’s up on her feet, charging, arms aimed for his neck.
And the throng of police surrounding her learn the hard way that she’s more agile than she appears.
The crowd falls silent as the EMTs wheel a strapped-down Ms. Suga out on a stretcher. They stare in pure astonishment at the physical embodiment of their urban legend being rolled away. Ms. Suga scowls at the crowd, but then she glances up at the house and the anger melts out of her eyes, the expression on her face morphing into deep sadness, chin trembling. This may be the farthest she’s been from her home in over thirty years.
Beside me, Yusef grabs hold of my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Take it easy,” someone says. “She’s just an old lady.” And yet, she was so much more than that.
An officer approaches Mom and Alec on the porch. “We’re going to take her to the hospital, have her checked over and try to get her to talk. Hopefully, she’ll tell us where your daughter is.”
Ms. Suga doesn’t take her eyes off the house, even as the ambulance doors close.
I look up at the house next door, at the ivy vines rustling in the breeze.
“How did they survive the fire?”
Yusef glances at me, his eyebrow arching. “Huh?”
“You said the house was set on fire with them inside. So how did they get out and no one noticed?”
He gazes up at the house, roping an arm around my waist. I lean into his intoxicating warmth and safety.
“Friends, I know you’re all scared. I’m scared too.” Mr. Sterling addresses the crowd from the porch as if it is his pulpit. “But we have to be rational here. This man is very dangerous. He’s kidnapped a child, a little white girl named Piper. So we have to let the authorities handle this.”
The crowd stirs, enraptured. They hadn’t heard about Piper yet and the words he uses seem purposefully inciting: Kidnapped. Scared. Dangerous. Little white girl.
Someone shouts, “We got a maniac in the streets!”
“Remember when he was touching those kids?”
“That was a rumor, y’all, remember?” Mr. Brown says from his truck, trying to ease tempers.
“Have the police found him yet?” a woman asks, a shrill of hysteria in her voice.
Mr. Sterling stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking mournful. “I’m afraid not. And I won’t lie, I’m not sure they are going to. This man has eluded us for decades.”
The crowd gasps, now talking in fast whispers. “What? Why? How?”
“They need to get him before he gets us!”
“What are we gonna do?” someone yells.
Tensions simmer, the air charged. I shift closer to Yusef, his arms tensing.
“Well, the police can only do so much,” Mr. Sterling says. “That’s where you come in. After all, who can keep their streets safe better than the people who live in them.”
“What the hell is he doing?” Yusef mumbles.
I glance back at Mom and Alec, watching Mr. Sterling with the same confused scowls.
“And, oh. I don’t know,” Mr. Sterling ponders, playing coy with a shrug. “Maybe, to help find him, we should do what we did back in the old days.” He pauses. “Smoke him out.”
The crowd is stunned by the suggestion, but they slowly nod in agreement.
“Shit,” Yusef mumbles.
“Yeah,” Mr. Stampley shouts. “Let’s light him up!”
The crowd cheers in unison.
“What the hell are you doing?” Alec shouts, grabbing Mr. Sterling’s arm. “My daughter is out there and you’re egging on a mob!”
Mr. Sterling smiles, patting Alec on the shoulder.
“Now, now, Alec, I wouldn’t be so worried about that. I’m sure she’ll be just fine. The good people of Maplewood will be careful. They won’t let anything happen to your daughter. But we can’t have some maniac running around the streets. Just think of the children.”
“I am! I’m thinking of my kid!”
Mr. Sterling says nothing, only glancing from face to face on the porch, then smiles.
“Well. Doesn’t seem like there’s much left for me to do here. Guess I’ll . . . head on home.”
Alec lunges for his neck and Mom struggles to restrain him.
Mr. Sterling grins at me and strolls back to his car.
He played us.
Meanwhile, the crowd intensifies.
“Well, what y’all standing around here for,” Mr. Stampley shouts. “Let’s find the son of a bitch!”
“I got some gas at my house,” someone offers.
“No. Oh no,” Yusef mumbles, racing into the crowd, and I follow.
“We got some fireworks!”
“He can’t be out on the streets like this, no way.”
“The girls, they won’t be safe,” a woman warns at a feverish pitch. “Y’all have to do something! Y’all gotta take care of this!”
“Y’all wait!” Yusef says, climbing up on his truck bed. “Don’t do this! You’ve seen what them fires can do. They can wipe out the whole neighborhood!”
“What you doing, man?” Mr. Brown shouts at Mr. Stampley, grabbing him up by his collar. “What if them fires spread! Folks around here barely making it by as it is. We can’t go burning everything down, we’ll having nothing left!”
“You know he can’t live,” Mr. Stampley says in a low voice, wiping his hands off him. “You know he can’t. Unless you want your father up at Big Ville.”
Mr. Brown’s eyes widen. Something passes between them. He backs away, just as the crowd disperses. The hunt for Jon Jon is on.
As Yusef continues to plead with everyone, I spot Mr. Watson in the crowd, staring at Ms. Suga’s ambulance driving away. I run over, blocking his line of sight.
“You knew,” I hiss.
Mr. Watson opens his mouth, then palms the hat in his hands. “I . . . I wasn’t sure.”
“How! There was a whole family living in our basement and you didn’t know?”
“The Foundation . . . they told us to never go in the basement. Made us all sign these papers, said they had it wired and if we went down there, they’d sue us for everything we got. But . . . something about it just didn’t sit right with me.”
“Is that why you were parked on our block at night?”
He eyes the ground in shame. “Yes. Was wondering if y’all saw or smelled some of the crazy things I did. Couldn’t sleep at night thinking about it. If it was really a ghost, I thought you’d leave by now.”
Suddenly, the police officers that once swarmed into the house are now running out the same way the construction workers would at the end of their shift.
“Hey!” Mom shouts. “Where are you going?”
An officer stops to face them on the lawn. “We’ve been told to fall back and evacuate the area.”
“What? Why would you leave? There’s clearly something about to go down around here!”
The officer shrugs. “Following orders. If I was you, I’d leave too. This place is about to be up in smoke. The way these people riot . . . they’re like animals.”
“These people?” Alec shouts, joining Mom. “They’re the citizens you’re supposed to serve and protect! You can’t just go!”
He shrugs again. “Like I said, I suggest you get out of here while you still can.”
Alec shakes his head, furious. “Not without my daughter!”
“Suit yourself. There are talks of roadblocks. No one in or out of Maplewood for the night.”
On the street, only a pocket of people remain. Yusef rushes over to me.
“We’re gonna go get the fire department! They won’t come unless we stay on their asses.”
“But what about Piper? We have to find her!”
He points at my parents. “Y’all should split up and look. Cali, I can’t let my city burn. It’s all we got!”
I know that more than he realizes. Mr. Brown marches over, sweat on his brow.
“Yusef, you drive over to the east side. I’ll go over to Midwood. We need all the help we can get.” He turns to the remaining crowd. “The rest of you, you know what to do. Pull together your things in case you have to leave. Use them hoses.”
The crowd disperses, jogging back to their homes. Yusef grabs my hand, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I promise,” he whispers, “as soon as I get the fire department, I’ll be back to help look for Piper. We’ll find her.”
I nod, holding back nervous tears before letting go of my only piece of safety, watching him barrel down the street.
“Marigold,” Mom shouts behind me, keys in hand as they run to the car. “Alec and I are going to drive around and try to find Piper. Stay here, in case she comes back.”
“No,” I bark, chasing them. “I’m going to look too!”
“No, Mari,” Alec insists, eyes brimming red. “It’s not safe.”
“We need to divide and conquer,” I shoot back. “We have to work together to find her before it’s too late!”
Mom stares into my eyes and nods, relenting.
“Okay, fine! Don’t leave Maple Street and call if you run into any trouble.”
“Please, Mari,” Alec begs. “Please be careful.”
As they hop in the car, I hang on the driver’s-side window.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I should have never left her alone.”
“Listen to me,” Alec says, holding my hands. “This is not your fault. We’re going to find Piper. And then we’re going to get the hell out of here. Together. Okay?”
I nod, mouthing the word “okay,” before he peels out of the driveway.
As soon as they’re out of sight, I suddenly remember my phone was still at Yusef’s. But Piper could be in any of these houses. And who knows when the mob will be back. I have to try.
Inside the house, Mr. Stampley’s ax is still on the floor where Jon Jon left it. I snatch it up along with a flashlight and run full speed for the secret garden. I need to check every corner of every house on this block. She couldn’t have gone far.
The temperature dropped, my breath fogging, and if at all possible, the houses on Maple Street seem creepier than ever. Maybe because I don’t know who else could be lurking around like shadows we can’t see. My steps echo in the strange throbbing silence. I jump around cracking sidewalks, and right as I’m about to charge into the brush, something up the block catches my eye. A pallet covered with a beige tarp sits on the corner of Sweetwater like a large forgotten birthday present. The brightness jarring, it stands out among the rubble and trash on the street.
I move closer to investigate, pulling back the tarp. It seems like random supplies—a stack of bricks, firewood, kindling, and a giant can of gasoline.
A firework screams up into the sky, lighting it up red.
Two blocks over, a similar pallet sits under a lamppost. All the brand-new necessary tools you need to burn down your own city. Then it hits me: this was the Foundation’s plan all along. They knew Ms. Suga and Jon Jon were still alive. They knew the people in Maplewood would do anything to keep themselves safe. And letting them burn down their own homes is an easy way to get rid of an entire community, giving them the perfect opportunity to build a whole new Cedarville. But first, they had to find someone foolish enough to move onto Maple Street to get the ball rolling. Someone not from here and in desperate need of a free house. They used our family as bait. Pawns in their game.
Checkmate.
The night air smells like burning firewood. In the distance, I see the glow of the first house smoking. A crowd cheers. The mob is moving quick. Too quick. They’ll be back on this block soon. I need to find Piper. And fast. If Yusef can’t convince the fire department to come, we may not make it out of here alive.
Inside the secret garden, the pots are empty, and my makeshift tools in a pile by the door.
“Piper,” I call. “Piper, are you in here?”
I shine the flashlight downward, noticing a set of footprints in the dust, heading toward the front of the house.
These footprints aren’t mine.
Following the steps, through the kitchen, dining room, past the stairs, I turn a corner and am surprised to see a set of bookshelves in what appears to be the sitting room, windows facing Maple Street. Just like in our house. Except one bookshelf sits tilted from the others. Which is exactly where the footprints seem to stop. I knock on the wall then stomp my foot. Hollow.
Using the ax head, I push the surprisingly light bookshelf aside, finding a utility hole with a metal ladder.
“Piper?” I say, and my voice echoes back.
Shit.
I swallow the fear, stuff the flashlight in my shirt, and climb down the ladder. One step, two steps, into a one-man catacomb. The tunnel is tall and narrow, walls made of various materials—rocks, cement, brick fragments, glass, and thousands of tin bottle caps. I shine a light down the tunnel, but it only goes a few feet. After that, pitch-blackness.
“Hello?”
Water drips and echoes from somewhere close. Gripping the ax, I start walking, the tunnel widening as I go along. I reach a clearing, with two separate entrances, a fork in the road. Which one has Piper?
“Shit,” I mumble, and my voice echoes. Something moves ahead of me in the darkness and I whip in its direction.
“Hello?” I shout. “Piper?”
Bravery leaking, I’m ready to make a run for it when I spot a faint glow of light in the distance. I race for it, flashlight bouncing, the tunnel narrowing, my breath growing shallow.
Please be here, please.
At the end, there’s a short set of stairs, and a door made of thin warped wood, opened just a crack, light bleeding out. I stare at the door, heart racing, hand held up, frozen.
You walked through a dark tunnel leading to nowhere and you’re scared of a piece of wood?
“It’s just wood, it’s just wood,” I chant softly, swallowing back every bedbug fact threatening to bubble up.
I push the door with my shoulder and stumble into . . . a basement. Not just any basement . . . the basement in our own freaking house! The makeshift beds are exactly where I saw them earlier, the candle burning to a stub. I spin around, staring up at the large bookcases hiding the secret tunnel.
That unmistakable familiar smell reeks behind me and my eyes water, the tears instant.
Oh no.
I spin around and there, hunched in the corner, blending in with the darkness, stands Jon Jon. A towering giant, ready to kill me.
Twenty-Five
THIS IS WHERE I fucked up, See, I assumed Jon Jon would be long gone by now, running away from the mob trying to burn the city down. That’s what I would do. You know, something rational.
But we’re not talking about someone rational. We’re talking about a guy who’s spent several decades hiding in our basement with his mother. This has Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho written all over it.
Jon Jon’s yellow eyes drift to the ax in my hand, jaw wiggling. In an instant, the basement shrinks to the size of a closet, my lungs tightening. He could easily overpower me, snatch the ax, chop me into bits. Blood drains from my head as I realize this is the second time I’m about to die today.
But I won’t go down easy. I raise the ax like a bat, shifting my stance, and push the words out through clenched teeth.
“Where’s Piper?”
He winces, sticking his neck out
as if to hear better.
“Please,” I beg. “Just . . . tell me where she is!”
He blinks several times before raising his arms, his bloody hand now wrapped in a piece of curtain. I grip the ax, backing away.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t,” I say, shaking my head, voice trembling. “But . . . please. She’s just a little kid.”
Jon Jon steps forward and I yelp, arching the ax back.
“W-w-wait,” he begs, flinching. “Y-y-you looking for your sister, right?”
My mouth cracks open, gearing up to correct him. But he needs to know how important she is to my family . . . and to me.
“Yes,” I gasp. “I’m looking for my sister.”
Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.
“I can take y-y-you to where she is,” he says, nodding, motioning for me to come closer. I eye his dirty hands and long fingernails caked with mud and grip the ax tighter.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I spit, inching my way to the steps, just in case I have to make a break for it.
A noise outside makes both our heads snap toward the basement door. Voices shouting. Jon Jon runs up the stairs.
“Wait! Where are you going?” I shout, following him. For a big guy, he can move pretty quick and silently when he wants to.
Glass shatters so close it sounds like it’s inside the house.
Jon Jon zips through the hall, creeping into the sitting room. He hugs the wall and peeks through the blinds.
“Look,” he whispers, calling me over. I nibble on my lip before following his lead, keeping close to the wall and peering out the window.
Outside, a crowd gathers around the secret garden house. They found the pallet and are making good use of it. Throwing bricks through the already broken windows, lighting gas-soaked kindle.
“That was my sister’s house,” Jon Jon says tonelessly, his face unreadable.
Inside, smoke billows, the flames growing larger, fire eating up the moldy curtains. I touch the window, watching it burn. It was mine too, I want to say. My secret garden, a place I planted my dreams, however ridiculous they were.
Jon Jon pushes away from the wall. “W-w-we gotta hurry!”
He races through the hallway, light as a feather, back into the basement, and I run after him. He shoves open the last bookcase. Another tunnel.
White Smoke Page 25
