by P. T. Hylton
“How many people were at Sanctuary when you got here?” Sophie asked.
“Four, including Jake.”
“That’s all? Who hazed you? Anyone I know?”
Logan shook her head. “No one you know.”
Sophie gave her an indignant look. “Oh come on. That’s all I get? I want to hear about it. You got to haze me. The least you can do is let me hear about yours.”
Logan slowed to a halt. “Things were different then. Very different. We didn’t have hazings. We didn’t even have the rules.”
“Really? So I take it there was an incident or something?”
She nodded. “There was an incident. Two of the people didn’t like the way Jake kept the book to himself. They thought we should all share it. When he wouldn’t hand it over, they attacked him. Almost killed him. They did kill one man, a guy named Davis. Thankfully, they underestimated me.”
Sophie couldn’t imagine anyone underestimating Logan. One look at her told you she was a badass.
As if reading her mind, Logan said, “I was different then, too. I’ve come out of my shell a lot since those days. Anyway, we eventually overpowered those two. Their names were Rosenberg and Harris. They were the first two banished. It was just me and Jake here for a while after that.”
“The Adam and Eve of Sanctuary,” Sophie said.
“More like Hatfield and McCoy. Jake and I didn’t always get along so well. Still don’t, I guess. We butted heads on a lot of things. I guess that’s why we’re not together now. That and the fact that he never fully got over the wife he left back home.”
“Wow. So you’ve been here through it all. Longer than anybody.”
“Almost everybody. Don’t forget Rosenberg and Harris. They’re still out there somewhere.” She looked around, scanning the trees, whether for Rosenberg and Harris or Larvae, Sophie didn’t know.
“How many have been banished in all?”
Logan shrugged. “A dozen. Maybe a little more.”
“But they’re still out there, right?”
Logan nodded.
“You ever worry they’ll come back? Like for revenge or something?”
“No.” Logan looked away. “They won’t come back. They never come back.”
“But if they did—”
“They won’t come back,” Logan repeated.
A whiny hum cut off the conversation. Sophie spun and saw the Larva near the edge of the trail, less than two feet from Logan’s foot.
“Logan,” Sophie began, but the other woman cut her off.
“I got it.” There was something strange in her voice. If it had been anyone else, Sophie would have characterized it as a laugh. “I do. I think I’ve actually got it. Near the top. It’s like a small protrusion.”
“That’s what I said.”
Logan drew her knife. “You said bump. It’s definitely a protrusion.” With that, she thrust the knife into the Larva. She looked at Sophie. She was positively glowing. “Holy hell. I just killed a Larva.”
Sophie smiled at her. “That you did. About time, too. I was starting to think you were unteachable.”
“It’s a poor teacher who blames her student.”
Sophie couldn’t help it. She grabbed Logan and gave her a hug. And, to Sophie’s surprise, Logan hugged her back.
Sophie stepped back and watched the liquefied Larva run off Logan’s knife. “So, what do we do now?”
“First, we kill another one or ten to make sure I’ve got the hang of this,” Logan said. “Then we start teaching the others.”
2. Rook Mountain
Sean frowned at the tree and the message carved in it: Use the Tool and the book and you can bring him home.
It was raining lightly, coming down just hard enough to moisten the skin but not enough to soak through clothes. Rare for eastern Tennessee. Normally, the sky suddenly went dark and the precipitation was a hard angry rain that started without warning, and ended as quickly.
“By Tool, do you think they’re talking about the, you know, Tools?” Sean asked.
Wendy nodded. “Yep.”
“And the him in bring him home is Zed?”
“Yep.”
“Huh. And when did you see this?”
They were standing in front of a tree in a front yard on the far west side of town. It would be inaccurate to say Rook Mountain had a bad part of town. The rough elements were mixed in with all the rest like someone had dumped everyone into the town at random and given it a rough shake. That said, the west side had a higher percentage of late night police calls and drug deals than the rest of town.
“Day before yesterday. I swung over to the library after school and noticed it on my way home. I saw it through the window of my car. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But after what we saw earlier…”
“Yeah,” he said. He noticed the way the bark around the letters bulged outward again. Truly strange. After everything they’d seen and heard over the last eight plus years, it was always tempting to jump to a supernatural conclusion when seeing something out of the ordinary. Sean was careful to avoid that trap. Most things, even in Rook Mountain, had a perfectly logical explanation. There was no call to assume the letters had been carved from inside the tree or by someone in the great beyond or something.
“Hey, we’ve got a fan.” Wendy nodded toward the window of the house where a curtain was fluttering as if it had been hastily moved back into place.
Sean grunted. He wasn’t in uniform. A couple of strangers in the yard staring at a tree—they had probably freaked out some little old lady or something.
“I’m gonna go knock on the door,” Sean said.
“Why?”
“I want to let her know we aren’t casing her house. Besides, maybe she knows something about all this. You coming?”
Wendy hesitated, then nodded.
He rapped on the door and waited for what seemed like an eternity. He concentrated on acting non-threatening.
“What’s that look on your face?” Wendy asked quietly.
“What do you mean? It’s my non-creepy smile.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t working.”
He dropped the smile.
“If it’s a woman, you better let me do the talking,” Wendy said.
The door opened the tiniest of cracks.
“Help you?” The voice was distinctly female.
Wendy took a slight step forward. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but we’re investigating some vandalism going on around town, and we happened to notice your tree.”
The door opened a smidge wider, enough for Sean to see a sliver of a pale face and a single blue eye. “Investigation, huh? Investigation for who? You some of those federals?”
Sean shook his head. He didn’t want to get into whether or not they were here on official police business. “No, ma’am. I’m Rook Mountain PD.”
She relaxed visibly at that and swung the door wide enough for Sean to see both of her eyes and even some of her dirty blonde hair. The woman was short and thin and probably under thirty. “That so? I guess you’d better come in then.”
She pulled the door open the rest of the way, and Sean followed Wendy into a living room cluttered with toys, partially folded laundry, and a dozen short stacks of paperback novels.
“You’re a reader,” Wendy said with a smile, like she’d found one of her own tribe.
The woman nodded. “Mysteries, mostly. I like the ones that keep me guessing. You’d think after reading all these I’d have sense enough not to let strangers in without asking for ID even if they claim to be cops. Especially if they claim to be cops.”
“I don’t have my badge, but maybe this’ll do.” Sean pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it over.
She took the card and looked at it for a long moment. “Nice to meet you, Officer Sean Lee. I’m Christy Havert.” She looked at Wendy. “You got a card?”
“I’m not a cop,” Wendy said.
“Huh. Amateur sleuth
then.”
Wendy turned on her best smile, and Sean had to admit it was very non-creepy. “Isn’t that the best kind?”
The woman let a smile of her own slip out. “I’m partial to Nick Stefanos. You ever read any of George Pelecanos’ books?”
Wendy shook her head.
“Shame.” Christy set down Sean’s card on a bookshelf near the front door. “You wanted to know about the carving in the tree?”
“Yeah, anything you could tell us would help,” Sean said. “Do you know who did it?”
“I don’t. My husband noticed it about three days ago. He saw it first thing in the morning. Though I can’t say for certain it happened during the night.”
“How about the message itself?” Wendy asked. “Any idea what it means?”
Christy let out a mirthless chuckle. Sean noticed there were tears in her eyes.
“What is it?” Wendy asked.
“This damn town. It makes me so tired. I’m sick to death of watching my mouth and not knowing who to trust. It was bad with the Regulations, but this is almost worse in some ways. Nobody shows their true colors.”
“Maybe it’s time to take a chance,” Wendy said.
Christy paused for a long moment, as if considering. Then she said, “I’m glad it was you who showed up here. I was afraid it might be someone else. Maybe those kids with the tattoos on their hands.”
“Why would they come here?” Sean asked.
“There’s something I’ve been living with for a long time. A burden, you might say.”
Sean opened his mouth to speak, but then he caught the look Wendy was giving him and closed it.
There was a new light in Christy’s eyes as if an idea had occurred to her.
“Would you take it, Officer? Would you take my burden from me?”
Sean was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about when Wendy said, “Of course, honey. We’ll take it for you.”
She nodded excitedly and ran out of the room.
Sean whispered to Wendy, “What the hell’s going on?”
“I have no idea. But if she has some crazy secret, I wasn’t about to tell her not to show it to us.”
Christy ran back into the living room, clutching something wrapped in cloth. “My husband’s gonna kill me.” She glanced at Sean. “Not literally. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s gonna be fuming mad though. Kept this thing hidden for years. But now, with somebody carving that message, I know they’re on to us. It’s even more dangerous than it was before.”
She held out the cloth to Sean. He took it, and the unexpected weight of the thing almost made it slip from his hand. It was an object wrapped in a tee shirt. He opened it.
“My husband found it at a construction site. He brought it home and kept it in his tool box all these years.”
It was a ball peen hammer. On the head of the hammer was the broken clock symbol.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Christy asked. “Just think, that thing could have got us killed during the Zed years. You ever seen anything like it?”
Sean wasn’t sure how to answer, so he just smiled his best non-creepy smile.
3. Sanctuary
On her twentieth day in Sanctuary, Sophie tried to kill Taylor.
Life had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Logan had asked Sophie to join her team of walkers full time. She was rebuilding the team from the ground up. Carver was going to be out of commission for a good long while, and Baldwin refused to work on a team with Sophie. He’d given Logan an ultimatum: pick Sophie for her team or pick Baldwin. Logan hadn’t hesitated before selecting Sophie. Leonard, who along with Baldwin had carried Sophie that first night, volunteered to take his place. Since there were no newbies to mentor now that Sophie had moved to her own cabin, Frasier also joined the team.
They walked the trail every night. Usually, it took about four hours, but sometimes they completed the loop in fifteen minutes. Sometimes they hustled to make it home before dawn. There were very few encounters with the Larvae. Apparently they slept through the night as long as someone wasn’t sticking her hand into their nests.
As they walked, Sophie kept her eyes on the trees. She looked for more of the strange carved messages, but she didn’t see any.
Sophie and Logan had spent a few days teaching the rest of Sanctuary how to kill the Larvae. It turned out Logan was a much better teacher than Sophie, and it went faster than they could have hoped. Every adult in Sanctuary was now able to find the weak spot and kill them.
Sophie didn’t sleep much during the day, though she tried. Knowing Taylor was so close by certainly didn’t help, nor did the switch to sleeping in the day and working at night. But the main cause of her insomnia was the weighty sense of uncertainty that hung over her. She’d long fantasized that, through some unlikely twist of fate, she’d be the one to turn on the lethal drip when he received his final injection. Now she had been given something even better. Not only did she have the opportunity to be Taylor’s executioner, she’d also be the one to select his means of execution.
Yet, still she waited.
Sometimes she spent hours thinking about how she’d do it. There was no end to the methods and techniques of death and torture that went through her head in vivid color and detail. Sometimes the level of creativity she was able to come up with frightened her. But, while she had no trouble envisioning his death, it was imagining the moments after his final breath that caused her trouble. What would she do? Escape into the woods? Turn herself in to Jake and throw herself on his mercy?
None of the options seemed perfect. Ideally, she’d cover up the crime, but she knew that would be difficult in Sanctuary. There were only thirty-five residents, but it seemed like someone was always nearby. There was almost no privacy. Even sneaking into Taylor’s cabin during the day while most of the community slept would be risky. She hadn’t ruled it out, but it didn’t seem like the ideal option.
And then there was Jake.
Half of what he had told her in the woods sounded like the fantasies of a madman. Or a cult leader. Telling your disciples they could never leave and building circular trails that all led back to the same place seemed like a nice technique for keeping them loyal. But Sophie had seen too much to deny that his explanation made a strange kind of sense. She’d been transported here in an impossible way. She’d seen the Larvae and heard their other-worldly voices. She’d walked the trails that changed lengths night after night.
What was the real extent of Jake’s power? Had he been honest with her in the woods? Would she even have a chance at covering up her actions, or would he be able to see what happened using that book of his?
And who was leaving her those messages?
None of that mattered in the hour before dawn when she saw Taylor standing on a tall ladder.
The majority of the residents in Sanctuary spent their working hours walking the trails, but there were exceptions. There was Yang, who made wonderful dinners for the town and served them each day before dawn. There was Nate, who handled logistics and kept the schedules. Jake spent most of his time locked away in his office.
And then there was Taylor. He served as sort of a handyman, taking care of repairs and upkeep on the grounds and the cabins.
“His disposition is best served by working alone,” Logan had told Sophie. Sophie had bit her lip to stop the flood of automatic responses to that observation.
Sophie didn’t know what he was doing up on the ladder, but he was leaning against a third story window of Jake’s house. She didn’t think. She turned on her heels and marched toward the ladder.
She was almost there when Taylor saw her. He looked down, and his eyes widened. The knowing, terrified look on his face gave her a feeling of deep satisfaction. He didn’t move; he just stared down at her.
The ladder drew her like a magnet. She felt calm, no anger or adrenaline rushed through her. She was doing what needed to be done. She was almost there now. She reached out her hand, and her fingers brushed agai
nst the cool aluminum.
“Sophie!”
The voice startled her, and she snapped her head around to see Logan behind her, a troubled look on the woman’s face. Sophie froze, her fingers still resting on the ladder.
Logan looked up. “You too, Taylor. Get down here.”
Taylor looked at Sophie, a slow grin spreading across his face. There was a moment where Sophie almost did it anyway, damn the consequences, just to wipe away that smug look. But she managed to control her hands, and she took a step back as he scurried down to the ground.
Logan looked back and forth between them. “We have a problem.”
Sophie’s heart was racing.
“Baldwin’s dead,” Logan said. “Vance attacked him. Apparently they were arguing. My guess is it was about Abby, although we haven’t been able to confirm that yet. Anyway, things got heated and Vance picked up a brick and used it on Baldwin. Abby saw the whole thing, but Baldwin was dead before she could get help.”
Sophie’s mind was spinning, trying to catch up with this new information.
“That’s all the info I have at the moment,” Logan said. “Vance will be banished tonight. Be at the main trail head at sundown.” With that, she spun on her heels and marched away, and Sophie was left standing alone next to Taylor.
After a long quiet moment, Taylor said, “Strange thing about this place. They hate violence unless it’s the official kind dished out by the authorities. Then everybody shows up to watch.”
Sophie clenched her fists. That voice grated on her like gravel across her face.
“I remember you,” he continued.
Without looking at him, Sophie said, “We’re not supposed to talk about the past.”
He shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, that’s not true. We aren’t supposed to ask about others' pasts. I’m talking about my own. Sharing some memories.”
She glared at him. She’d forgotten how short he was. She stood five foot five, and he wasn’t much taller. His face was a lumpy thing with thick lips and eyes that always looked swollen. His hair was the color of dirt, and his skin had the pink complexion of a slight sunburn.
“When my verdict was read, there was a lot of cheering in that courtroom. But, I’ll never forget, there was one voice that jumped out at me. The first cheer came from a girl. And, again, when I was sentenced to death, that same girl was the first one cheering. So, I gotta ask, what made you so blood thirsty?”
