by Simon Holt
“How do I stop it?”
Quinn sighed, and his eyelids drooped. “That’s why Keech is after you. So you can’t stop it.”
“But what is their plan? How are they going to do it?” Reggie shook Quinn by the arm, rousing him. His skin was cool to the touch and thin like paper.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said, yawning. “I feel…” He glanced at the Mountain Dew, then at Reggie, and another smile stretched across his lips. “… drugged. Nice one, Halloway. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Reggie pulled the knife out of the satchel and held it to Quinn’s throat.
“Tell me what the Vours’ plan is.”
Quinn lay back in his seat.
“You know what? Just do it. It will be a relief. No more running, no more hiding. And I’m glad it’s you, and not them. You’ve earned it.”
Reggie hesitated, hovering above him, the knife between them. Quinn stared dreamily at her. Even with the bruises, his eyes were still as beautiful as the first time she’d seen them.
“I know it’s not easy for you,” Quinn continued, his words slurring together now. “It’s not easy to kill. But in war, you have to eliminate your enemy. No moral qualms. We’re generals, Reggie. We’re above that…”
His voice trailed off, his head lolled to the side, and his hand slipped off the armrest. The bandage snagged and fell off, and in the flickering light from the movie screen, Reggie saw the stumps of his ring and pinky fingers, chopped right below the knuckles. The wound had opened again and blood burbled up. She shuddered at the grotesqueness of it. Quinn was a monster, but he was still vulnerable, like a human. There was a human boy locked away inside somewhere.
He was weak now; her plan had worked. She could slice him open and leave him to die.
She dropped the knife and it clattered to the floor.
“I don’t want to be above it,” she said. “That’s the difference between you and me.”
She stood up, but just at that moment the movie projector clicked off, leaving the theater in silence and dark. The red light of the exit signs glowed eerily.
“Regina Halloway!” A leering voice echoed through the theater. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt your date?”
A chill speared through Reggie. She recognized the voice of Keech Kassner. They were here, now.
She slung her satchel over her head and felt on the ground for the knife. The tips of her fingers closed around the cold steel, and with her other hand she felt blindly forward, crawling over Quinn to the end of the row of seats. She yanked on the theater door, but it was locked.
“Not that way,” said Keech, and Reggie spun around, holding out the knife with a trembling hand. She couldn’t see a thing, and she couldn’t pinpoint where the voice was coming from. It was all around her.
“You know you won’t get out of here alive,” the voice continued, tauntingly. “You’re both going to die. A shame, too. You’re going to miss all the fireworks.”
“What fireworks?” Reggie called into the dark, her voice trembling.
“Armageddon, June twenty-first. I’d tell you to mark your calendar, but you’re going to be out of town. Or six feet under it, to be more precise. Too bad you didn’t listen to Quinn’s warnings.”
Reggie stumbled back down the back row of seats where Quinn was passed out. She didn’t like it, but she had to admit he might be her only hope of figuring out the Vours’ plans. If they could even get out of here. She shook him by the shoulders.
“Quinn, wake up,” she whispered.
“Wha? Huh?” he moaned, shifting in his seat.
Reggie dumped the remaining Mountain Dew on him and slapped him hard across the face. Blood from his wounds wet her fingers.
“Wake up!” she urged.
Quinn sat up groggily. “It’s still dark out, Mom. Not time for school…”
Reggie heaved him up out of the chair, slinging his arm around her shoulder to support him.
“It’s Reggie. We are still in the theater and Keech is here!” she hissed.
Keech’s laughter boomed through the blackness.
“Wait, did Quinn fall asleep on you? Awwkward.”
Quinn seemed to come to a little. “Keech? He’ll kill us!”
“No shit! Come on, I need you to walk.” Reggie half pulled, half dragged him into the aisle, his feet slow to respond. Together they stumbled toward the front of the theater where another red sign showed the emergency exit. Reggie held her hands out in front of her, praying they wouldn’t run straight into Keech. They reached the door, but it was locked, too.
“Not that way, either,” said Keech.
Reggie looked around, frantic. They were trapped. Quinn slumped against her.
“Reggie, did you like the flowers I sent you?” he asked sleepily.
“Not helping!” Reggie took a step and bumped into the stage. She propped Quinn against it. “We have to find another way out of here.”
She heard a noise, and a match flared at the back of the theater. Behind its glow she could see Keech’s hulking outline, stalking slowly toward her.
“Nowhere to run,” he said.
She hauled Quinn across to the other aisle, but then another match blazed, and a second figure, identical to Keech in size and shape, came forward. Keech’s twin brother, Mitch.
Reggie backed away. Keech’s match went out, and he lit another. Reggie could see his snarl, but Mitch looked stoic. Reggie shuddered at their determination.
And then, in the dim light of the matches, Reggie saw it. A ladder built into the theater wall leading up to the box seats. It was just a few feet away from her. With Quinn in tow, Reggie sidled toward the ladder, not wanting to give away her plan to the Kassners. They still approached slowly, savoring their victory, their kill.
“Quinn,” she said quietly through her teeth. “Are you still with me?”
Quinn lifted his head off her shoulder and sighed.
“Yep. I’m here. Hey, I like your hair cut like that.”
Reggie rolled her eyes and brandished the knife.
“I need you to focus,” she said, nicking him in the arm with the knifepoint. This finally seemed to jolt Quinn awake.
“Hey!”
Reggie thrust him against the wall.
“Climb!” she ordered.
Immediately, Keech realized what she was up to, and he and Mitch rushed at her. Reggie waved the knife at them.
“Back off!”
Keech laughed. It sounded like a growl.
“You can’t take us both on, Halloway. And you just sacrificed yourself for your archnemesis. You are so pathetically human.”
Quinn had reached the top of the ladder, ignoring the pain in his hand, and disappeared into the box seat. Reggie continued to swing the knife at a merry Keech and a solemn Mitch, but her mind was blank with terror. There was no way to climb without letting go of her only weapon. Fight or flee, they’d kill her.
A roar and a flash of light came from above. All three of them looked up to see the musty velvet curtain hanging next to the box seat go up in flames. The dry fabric crackled and smoked, then plummeted toward them, a giant fireball. Keech and Mitch dove out of the way, but Reggie leaped onto the ladder and scrambled up as quickly as she could, always expecting a hand to clamp down on her ankle and yank her off. Her arms shook violently with fear, and the black smoke billowing around her choked and blinded her. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. It heaved her up and over the side of the box. She collapsed on the ground, coughing, as Quinn put his lighter back in his pocket. They stared at each other for a moment, then Quinn pulled her up, and they fled the box to the open air of the theater lobby.
“Do you believe me now?” Quinn grunted as they dashed out the theater’s back entrance into the alley. He yanked the hoodie up over his head and pulled it tight.
Reggie didn’t answer—she was trying to steady her breath after taking in all the smoke from the burning curt
ain. Her left forearm throbbed with pain, and she looked down to see a splotch of badly blistered skin. In her rush to escape, the curtain had burned her and she hadn’t even felt it.
“I have… to get… home,” she rasped.
“Yeah, we should split up anyway,” Quinn said. His speech was slow and slightly slurred, remnants of the sleeping meds. He shook his head, trying to wake fully. “I doubt he’ll come after you at your house. He doesn’t want to be tied to any crimes. Stay there and in public places.”
Reggie’s hands shook, and she fumbled with her bike lock. Quinn took the key from her impatiently and snapped open the lock, then dragged the bike off the rack with his good hand.
“And what are you going to do?” Reggie forced herself to control her voice, and yanked the handlebars away from Quinn. She was embarrassed to appear so anxious in front of him.
“Find out what I can. Now you know the stakes, maybe you won’t come after me with sleeping pills and a knife.”
“Don’t bet on it.” As she got on her bike, Quinn was already slouching to the end of the alley.
“I’ll contact you!” he shouted over his shoulder at her.
“Yeah, and what am I supposed to do in the meantime, wait around for the end of the world?” Reggie yelled after him, but Quinn was already gone.
8
Reggie was relieved to pedal into an empty driveway when she got home: her father and Henry were still out. She showered first, washing the soot and grime off her skin and out of her hair, and threw her dirty clothes in the hamper. She rubbed antiseptic on her burn; there were no bandages in the house large enough to cover the wound, so she put on a thick plastic bangle that mostly hid it. She didn’t want her father asking any questions about it.
She took out the trash with the bloody bleeding hearts in it and replaced the bag. Then she sat down at the kitchen table to wait. When Dad got home, she figured she might as well get the drama over with.
She drummed her fingers on the table. The summer solstice. Armageddon. It was a lot to have to think about when she should be studying for finals.
She heard the truck pull up a half-hour later. When they walked in, Henry gave Reggie a sympathetic look, but Dad walked straight to the sink and got a glass of water. He took a long gulp, then filled the glass again.
“Hen, why don’t you go play in your room for a bit?” he said.
Henry nodded and left the kitchen. Dad finished the second water and came back to the table. He sat down heavily and only then allowed his eyes to focus on his daughter.
“Do we need to get you a new watch?” he asked.
Reggie looked at her hands.
“Because I believe I was very clear on the time we were leaving this morning. Am I wrong?”
“No, you were clear.”
“Then explain to me why at nine o’clock I go into your room to find an empty bed and then can’t get a hold of you on your cell phone. That phone is a privilege, not a right. When I call, you pick up.”
“Dad, it was an emergency. Aaron—”
“Aaron? Aaron had an emergency? And you chose…” Dad’s teeth clenched. “Look, I know you have issues with me, but this time I thought… because it was Henry. That you’d be there for him.”
“Dad, I wanted to be—I did. It was a mistake, I know. Things have just been so crazy.”
“Things will always be crazy, Reg. That’s life. But your brother should be a priority.” Dad spoke softly but firmly, and Reggie could tell he was trying to keep his temper in check. “When you do things like this, he sees that you have more important things in your life than him.”
“I’m trying to protect him! I’m trying to protect all of you!” Reggie looked as surprised as her father at her outburst. She bit her lips and kept her head down, and tried to keep the tears at bay.
“Protect us? Reggie, get control of yourself. Look, I’m not going to punish you,” Dad continued. “Lord knows that hasn’t worked in the past anyway. I need you to work through this and be the sensible girl I know you are. Dr. Unger said you may be reacting to discipline reserved for a child, so I won’t do it. And in return I’m expecting you to act like an adult.”
“Is that what Dr. Unger said?” Reggie asked wryly. It was probably true in most teenage girls’ cases. Reggie already felt like an adult, and it was the last thing she wanted to be.
Dad took one of Reggie’s hands in his and looked pleadingly at her. It was an awkward gesture, because Dad was not prone to physical affection with his daughter, but she couldn’t hold his gaze.
“Reggie, my greatest fear is to lose you like I lost your mother. And it scares me to see you checking out on us like she did. Please make an effort, if not for me, then for Henry. I don’t know if he can take someone else leaving him.”
Dad let go of Reggie’s hands, put his palms on the table, and pushed himself up out of his chair. Reggie watched him go out into the hall and heard the door to his office close. A minute later, Henry’s head appeared in the doorway.
“I heard what he said.” He came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Reggie’s shoulders.
“Henry, you have to believe that I didn’t mean to miss your appointment today.”
“I know that.” Henry pulled away and Reggie saw concern in his eyes. “Was it the Vours?”
Reggie pursed her lips. She didn’t want to worry Henry, but she didn’t want to lie to him either. She nodded.
“But I want you to know that everything’s going to be okay,” she said.
Henry stood quietly for a moment, playing with the hem of his T-shirt. His brow furrowed.
“What is it, Hen?”
Henry squinted his eyes and scrunched his face, like he did when he was trying to figure out the answer to a math problem.
“Something happened last night, Reggie,” he said finally. “I woke up in the middle of the night and I felt funny.”
“Felt funny how? Like you were sick?”
“No. My skin felt weird, like all the heat was being sucked out. It was kind of prickly. Like something was pulling at me.”
Reggie frowned.
“Did it hurt?”
“No. It just felt freaky.”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“No, I thought maybe there was something on my skin, so I went to the bathroom to try to wash it off. But then, when I was in the hall, it got even stronger. Like a whoosh, sucking all the heat right out of me. What, Reggie? What’s the matter?”
Reggie’s lower jaw had dropped open.
“Nothing. That’s just really strange, isn’t it? I’ll talk to Aaron about it—maybe he’ll know what it is. Let me know if you feel this way again, okay?”
“Okay. Hey, want to play War?”
“Yeah I do.” Reggie got out of her seat and followed her brother upstairs, but her mind was far from cards.
Quinn had been upstairs last night in her own room, mere feet from where Henry slept. Henry’s chills had woken him, and increased when he was in the hall, even closer to Quinn. Could it be that Henry had some kind of physical Vour detector inside him? Maybe his experience in the fearscape had left him hypersensitive to the monsters’ presence.
It wasn’t totally far-fetched. And Reggie appreciated the possibilities of being able to immediately recognize her foes, though she didn’t like the idea of putting Henry in their proximity. Still, if such an ability existed, it was sure to help their side—she made a mental note to mention this discovery to Aaron the next time she saw him.
But when Reggie called the Cole house Sunday afternoon, Aaron was still sleeping. Dr. Cole didn’t want to wake him, and she told Reggie that Aaron would be missing school the following day for doctors’ appointments. Reggie guessed Dr. Cole had set up psych visits for her son to deal with his traumatic experience.
School went by excruciatingly slowly on Monday, and Reggie found it hard to concentrate on exam reviews. The other students steered clear of her, whispering and pointing as sh
e passed them. Being the best friend of the kid police thought had something to do with the Quinn Waters case, and the sister of the kid who’d nearly killed a classmate last Friday, hadn’t done anything to boost her popularity. Not to mention her freak-out in class.
Reggie sat by herself under a tree in the quad at lunch. As she munched listlessly on a turkey sandwich, her thoughts turned to Aaron. He hadn’t contacted her since she’d seen him at his house, and this worried her. What if the Vours really had cracked his mind? The summer solstice was less than two weeks away, and if the event Quinn had warned her about was real, she needed to find a way to stop it.
“See any good movies this weekend?” a gruff voice called out to her, and in the hot sun Reggie felt her skin prick with chills. Keech and Mitch Kassner stood on the sidewalk in front of her. Keech smirked at her, but Mitch hung back, looking at the pavement. Reggie scrambled to her feet.
“Stay away from me.” She felt in her satchel for the pepper spray she always carried with her.
“I may look like a dumb jock, but I’m not stupid enough to go after you in front of all these people. That’s where your little brother went wrong, you know. Never attack someone on the playground. Should’ve waited ’til he had the kid alone.”
“Shut up!”
“Why are you talking to that chick, Kassner? You know she hangs out with that kid, Cole.” Rodney Perez, a tackle for the football team, walked up to them and stared at Reggie. “How does your sick little friend feel about lethal injection?”
The bell rang, and the wave of students eating outdoors moved toward the school’s entrance. Rodney gave Reggie one last glare, then turned and followed the crowd.
“All alone, Halloway,” Keech said, grinning at Reggie, then he said under his breath, “better watch your back.”
He and Mitch ran to catch up with Rodney, leaving Reggie standing by the tree. She realized there was one thing she could do until she heard from Quinn again: get rid of their most immediate threat. Keech.
Her mind flashed to Eben—he had, after all, worked some kind of miracle to get Aaron out of jail. Should she bring him in on this? She dismissed the thought quickly. He would have only one recourse for dealing with Keech, and after her experience in the theater, Reggie had chosen a different path. She didn’t need Eben.
