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by Matthew Costello

  “So easy to get past that guy. Sneaking his smokes. Jerk!”

  They kept walking, and Simon looked ahead, to see that the sheer wall of the cliff was only feet away.

  He had a thought: that was fun. But maybe they should head back.

  He wanted to say that.

  But what would Joe think?

  A few more feet and the other boy stopped.

  “There it is.”

  Simon saw a stone trail—a ledge that led up the cliff, cut right into the stone.

  In front of the trail, pieces of wood thrown across it, blocking it. A sign.

  Just a few words.

  “Danger. Trail Closed.”

  Black swirling letters as if they had been done fast.

  Joe stepped over the pieces of the wood.

  “Coming?”

  Now Simon had to say something.

  “It says closed. Maybe it’s not safe.”

  “I’ve been on the trail, dummy.”

  Simon didn’t like it when Joe called him that name.

  Dummy.

  “Sure, it’s closed. No one’s supposed to even be over here. But here we are. So let’s get climbing.”

  Simon came closer to the wood pieces, the dangling metal sign. The words of warning.

  He put his hands on one of the wood pieces blocking the path, and raising one leg, climbed over to the other side.

  * * *

  Another door, and even darker.

  “Wait. I can’t even see,” Kate said.

  “Right. I know. Dark as hell, right? But there’s a handrail, and then we’re in the basement of this old place. Wait till you see it. Like tunnels and caves. But there’s light down there.”

  As if it would force her to move, Tom vanished down the stairway.

  “I’m down here,” he said.

  She heard steps. His voice again, a bit more distant.

  “Hey! Come on.”

  Kate went through the door, found the handrail, and followed the boy down.

  * * *

  Part of the way up, Simon stopped and looked around.

  He could see the mountains that surrounded the inn and this mountain, some looking much higher.

  But he could actually look down at the inn, still looking so big, still looking like a castle.

  But he was above it.

  “What did I tell you? You can see everything!”

  “But can they see us?”

  “Duh. If they looked. But I don’t think they ever look up here. It’s closed, right?”

  Joe grinned. He had everything planned out. He had an answer for everything.

  Simon supposed that should make him feel good.

  But somehow, it didn’t.

  Joe started up again.

  * * *

  Down the dark staircase, and Kate couldn’t even see her hand on the handrail, feeling her way with one foot, then the other, as she navigated the stairs.

  “Almost there,” the voice from the bottom said.

  And then a bit of light as she came to a landing, the darkest place as the stairs turned in the other direction.

  But she saw light at the bottom, a hint of an outline of the bottom steps.

  She kept on going.

  * * *

  Midway up the stone trail, Simon saw broken rock covering the flat surface of the trail. Big pieces, smaller pieces. Rubble that had broken away from the cliff wall, he guessed.

  Slippery to walk on.

  He had to look down to be careful of his step.

  Joe had slowed as well, also having trouble making his way up.

  Then Simon took a step, and his foot gave way. A flat part that looked like it was part of the trail … actually a loose stone.

  Like it was hiding.

  His foot slipped, and then he felt himself tumble forward. His hands went out in front to break his fall.

  And as he landed, a stone dug into the palm of his hand.

  “Owww,” he said.

  He slipped a few feet, then, as he fell on his knees, his sneakers dug into the rubble, and he stopped.

  “What happened?” Joe said.

  “I … slipped.”

  Simon raised his left hand to his face. The stone had broken the skin and his palm was bloody. He wiped it on his pants.

  He looked again. The hand still oozed blood. And it stung.

  “You’re bleeding?”

  Simon held up his hand to show the other kid.

  “That’s nothing. Lick it.”

  Instead, Simon gave it another wipe on his pants, and this time, though the skin was broken, red, it didn’t seem to bleed as much.

  It wasn’t bad.

  “Okay—we’re almost there.”

  “Where’s there?”

  Simon had been keeping his head down, watching his steps on the trail.

  He hadn’t looked up …

  To see something he hadn’t noticed before.

  Something like a little house at the top. With a pointy roof, and tree trunks for timbers.

  “There. Up there, you can see everything!”

  Simon felt as if he had already seen plenty. Having fallen, and cut his hand, he just wanted to go back down.

  Sneak back into the house.

  End this.

  Yeah, he thought, that’s what I want to do.

  End this.

  But Joe put out a hand to help Simon up. Simon took the hand and struggled to his feet.

  He felt where his knees had banged against the stone.

  Joe seemed to sense what Simon was thinking.

  “We’re almost there. A quick look. And down we go.”

  And Simon nodded.

  * * *

  Kate left the dark stairs and came out into what looked like a stone tunnel.

  “It’s cool, right? All this stone. They carved these tunnels and rooms out of the mountain!”

  “It’s chilly,” Kate said.

  A light bulb protected by a metal cage glowed from the top of the tunnel.

  “Let me show you where this leads. Got to be really quiet though. Sometimes the guys like to hang out down here. Away from the Colonel.”

  He leaned close to Kate.

  “Close to the cars and the guns.”

  Tom took her hand.

  She wanted to wriggle free, but he used it to lead her forward as the tunnel curved one way, then the other, and then one more curve, and Tom stopped.

  Now she wriggled her fingers and freed her hand.

  “See. Look!”

  And ahead, the mazelike tunnel opened to a giant cave, filled with cars.

  “All the cars are kept here.” Tom pointed to the far end of the cave. “Over there, they store the gas, anything people brought with them.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He raised his arm again, pointing again. “And the car keys are in the box, all locked up. Only a few guys have the key to the lock. Same for that room over in the corner with the guns and bullets.”

  Only then did Kate notice that the boy’s arm had stayed up, that he had turned, and then planted that arm on the wall of the tunnel.

  Right over Kate’s shoulder.

  He had turned to her.

  “But here. This tunnel. It’s like a secret place. Away from everyone.”

  He came closer.

  And Kate had the thought.

  He’s going to try and kiss me.

  That, and …

  His arm is keeping me from moving back into the tunnel, back to the dark staircase, up, and away from here, away from him.

  He moved closer.

  “We could come here. Anytime we want.”

  Kate realized the feeling she had.

  Trapped. This boy planned this. To get me alone.

  Then, as if confirming it, his other arm came up, another hand planted, one hand on either side of her.

  “Anytime…”

  31

  Fear

  Christie walked out of the bedroom.

  Where are they? she t
hought.

  She had expected Kate to be in the room. Maybe reading. Simon … usually playing with the other kids, and Christie hoping that they didn’t do anything they shouldn’t.

  That older kid … worried her.

  Kids got into things.

  She saw Helen walking down the hallway to her room, and ran up to her.

  “Helen, have you seen my kids?”

  She shook her head. “No. Simon’s usually with those other boys, isn’t he?”

  Christie looked up and down the hallway, people milling about, just standing around, waiting for dinner—always the day’s big event, this place sometimes more like a prison than a refuge.

  She looked up at the top of the main stairs. The Colonel walking down, talking to a group of men, nodding.

  He looked up and saw her, and since she didn’t know what else to do, she stayed there, waiting.

  Until he got to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Something wrong, Christie?”

  “My kids. Have you—” she scanned the eyes of the other men—“seen them? I don’t know—”

  “They know the rules, right? Where to go, where not to go?”

  Christie nodded.

  Then: “You should keep a better eye on them.”

  The Colonel nodded, and started down the hallway.

  Christie turned to Helen.

  “I’m scared about this,” Christie said.

  “Come on,” Helen said. “I’ll help you look.”

  * * *

  Tom nodded as he spoke to Kate.

  “You know, we could come down here anytime,” he said. “No one would know.”

  His arms still pinned to the stone wall, now each closing like a trap on both sides of her.

  Until he had her head locked between them.

  “Anytime … for anything…”

  He started to lean into her, his body pressing close, right into hers.

  Which is when she brought her left arm up as hard and fast as she could.

  A move her dad had taught her.

  “If you are ever cornered, Kate … by anyone. Do it fast, do it hard.”

  The boy, a guard, more of a man, with his strong arms holding her head fast.

  Would her arm do anything?

  But when her forearm smashed up against his elbow, Tom’s right arm slid off the wall, and in that moment, Kate started running.

  She thought … did she know the way back to the dark stairs, back up to the hallway, to the inn?

  Running full out as she heard Tom’s voice behind her.

  “Hey, where are you going? No need to…” and he raised his voice on this “… run away scared.”

  Then she heard his laughs.

  Her feet made a slapping noise as she ran, an echo off the stone.

  I go left here, she thought.

  Then straight.

  Would Tom chase her, try again to trap her?

  He was going to kiss her, Kate thought.

  She knew that.

  And there was no thrill at that thought.

  Would that be all?

  Just fear. And now, a desperation to get out of this maze.

  Until, another turn and she saw the dark hole of the stairs leading up to the shuttered section of the inn.

  She ran in, locking her hand on the rail, and took the stairs as fast as she could.

  * * *

  More rubble, more crumbly rock, every step sending pieces flying down the trail, the angle more steep.

  The wooden house, nothing more than a pointy roof like an elf’s hat and some logs, lay ahead.

  But Simon wanted to turn around.

  Head down.

  Had to be dinnertime soon.

  The air turned cool, the stone cliff that he’d touched trying to find something to hold, now cold.

  Joe had gone quiet too, and Simon wondered whether he had been telling the truth.

  Had he really been all the way up here before?

  Because it didn’t look like anyone had been up here. Not in a long time, not with all this loose rock.

  Another step, and a piece went flying, this time over the side of the stone path, falling off the cliff.

  The wooden railing also seemed more wobbly here as Simon grabbed it, the path now too narrow to stay well away from the edge.

  We should stop, he thought.

  Go down now.

  “Joe,” he said without turning around to the boy behind him.

  When he didn’t answer, Simon said it again. “Joe—I think … this isn’t safe. All this rock.”

  “Almost there,” Joe said. But his voice didn’t sound the same.

  The voice higher, and shaky. Maybe the chill. Or maybe Joe was a little scared too.

  And Simon knew that for Joe, it was important to do this.

  Because of what I said I did.

  That was it. He had to do something big. Something dangerous.

  “Joe, I think—I think I’m going back down. I—”

  Another step.

  A flat piece of rock. His sneaker on it squarely, carefully. One hand on the wall, another on the shaky log rail.

  It would be so easy to pull that rail down, to have no protection from falling off the trail, the cliff.

  But this piece of rock, loose like so many others, was exactly the size of his foot, his sneaker floating on the rock as it so quickly began to slide backward.

  One hand touching the cliff face, but his other hand, not trusting the rail, had slipped away.

  And Simon started to slip, sliding down, falling backward.

  “Joe!”

  He said the name again, louder this time, yelling, not caring if his voice carried all the way down to the inn, to the guard who hadn’t seen them come up here.

  Knees onto stone, hands forward, his hurt left hand stinging with the slap, sliding down until he saw that he was moving at an angle that would send him … off the trail.

  He begged, he pleaded for the fall to somehow stop, but the rocks on the trail all seemed to want to keep rolling on down … and off the stone path.

  * * *

  Kate burst out into the musty dark hallway, out of the pitch-black stairwell. Still she kept running, to get out of this place.

  Back to where there were people.

  Thinking how stupid that was of her. To do that, go down there.

  So … stupid.

  She came to the sliding doors that sealed off this unused end of the inn.

  What if it was locked? she thought. Tom lying about that, and now racing after her.

  Another trap, she thought.

  Her fingers dug into the sliding latch and turned it.

  It gave way, and she slid the door open, and then kept on running.

  She didn’t bother shutting it behind her.

  She just wanted to get to where there were others, to lose the feeling of being down there … at first exciting, then—with those arms trapping her—so scary, giving her a sick feeling in her stomach.

  Kate ran full out, past offices, the classroom, now dark and closed, the dining hall, and people standing outside.

  Slowing her pace as she sucked in gulps of air.

  Realizing what she must look like.

  Rushing. So scared.

  Face flush. Eyes wide. Gasping, her walk more like staggering.

  Until she stopped—

  Facing her mother.

  Her mother looking left, right, all around, until her eyes landed on Kate.

  And Kate knew, in that glance, that look, that her mother knew something had happened.

  And she kept walking to her, her mother’s lips tight.

  Her face worried.

  Kate went to her, and without even thinking, hugged her mom close as Christie did the same thing, hugging her tight.

  * * *

  Then—one leg went off the trail, over the edge.

  Fingers digging at the loose rubble.

  The other leg, turning, kicking, Simon’s foot trying to di
g into the stone, trying to stop his slide.

  And then quick kicks, not slowing at all.

  And one leg now—

  (No.)

  —over the edge, and Simon trying to get his leg to dig into something, so he could kick up, to stop his slide—

  (Please. Please…)

  —and it did.

  His foot digging into a crack, a space in the cliff wall just below the trail. A crack, an opening that his foot slipped into.

  Then—his foot … jammed into the crack by his weight and the fall.

  His fingers still digging at the loose stone.

  Except now—he stopped.

  He stopped.

  For a moment, he didn’t move at all.

  32

  Seeing Them

  Christie held her daughter tight, and for a few moments, didn’t move.

  Then, quietly, as she led her away from the people moving into the dining room, she whispered …

  “Kate. What happened?”

  Her daughter looked at her, her face set.

  “I—” Kate started, then looked away.

  And what was that look? Christie thought. Shame? Guilt? Embarrassment?

  She immediately guessed at what might be the cause.

  “Did one of the guys … did someone … do something?”

  Kate’s eyes returned to her mother’s face.

  Then, the lightest of nods.

  And Christie felt her entire body tense.

  * * *

  “Get up, Simon! Get up!”

  Simon looked at his leg hanging over the side, feeling where his foot had stopped his slide, and where it was now wedged.

  “You gotta get out of there!”

  Simon nodded. He felt his heart racing. The stone felt so cold. He wanted to get down from here.

  But when he yanked his leg up … it didn’t move.

  Didn’t move at all.

  “Simon, we gotta—”

  “It won’t move,” Simon said. Then: “It’s stuck.”

  He saw Joe look all around, as if there might be someone who could help them. But they were all alone.

  “Help me,” Simon said.

  Joe didn’t move.

  Did he think that the same thing might happen to him?

  “Maybe if you help me pull on my leg … it’ll come free.”

  For another few seconds, Joe didn’t move, but then he knelt down beside Simon. A few more stones slid, down the trail, away from the two boys.

  Joe very carefully reached over to Simon and wrapped one hand on the ankle of Simon’s other leg, his forearm leaning on Simon’s sneaker.

  “Don’t do that,” Simon said.