The Dark at the End

by Susan Adrian

Dedushka and I sit on one of the motel beds, facing him, like he’s trying to defend himself in court and we’re his jury.

  I would find him guilty of being a fool.

  “No,” I say, flat. “No no no no. It’s dumb. I won’t let you.”

  Jake raises an eyebrow, and I kind of want to punch him. Like I couldn’t stop him if I really wanted to.

  “It’s already done,” he says. “It’s arranged. If I don’t show now, he’ll track me down anyway…and I won’t have him find you.”

  “Then un-arrange it!” I look at Dedushka, who’s being oddly silent. “You don’t need to protect me. How will this help Myka and Abby? How will it help for you to be locked up again, who knows where, with that freak?” I take a deep breath, and close my eyes for a second. Those were the worst moments in my life, with Gareth Smith. When I saw Jake in the library and went along with him that first time, it was mostly because I was shocked he was alive…and curious. It was a puzzle I wanted to solve: where he’d been, why everyone said he was dead. That I needed to solve. I didn’t honestly think there would be any danger. Then I had a gun in my face, a knife cutting into my skin, and it was all different.

  He crumples the comforter. “If I go, they won’t be locked up with Smith, for doing nothing. That’s how it will help.” He looks at the clock. “I should go soon.”

  “You’re so anxious to give yourself up?”

  He meets my eyes, shakes his head, and I turn away. I can’t look at his face anymore. He doesn’t want to do this, I can see it. It looks like it’s killing him to do this. And yet he’s doing it anyway.

  “Dedushka,” he says, soft. “I’ll be okay. I have to try.”

  I glare at Dedushka, willing him to say no. Jake would listen if he did. He nods, a tiny tilt of his head. “I do not like it. But…” he shrugs, and my heart sinks. “If he will trade, it is a good start. You can tunnel to me without any object. They do not know that. So you stay in touch, yes? You tell me where you are, we come get you.“

  “Are you insane, both of you?” Two pairs of identical gray eyes look at me. I thrust my chin up. “Mr. Smith has a ton of men with guns. He has security. You don’t just put yourself in that situation, on purpose…” My eyes burn with tears, and I swipe them away. “Don’t leave,” I say, quietly.

  He left before, when he went underground, without telling me. Like Dad left. People are always leaving. I’m sick of it.

  “I have to,” he says. He reaches out for me across the bed, but I fold my arms and turn my back. No.

  Dedushka clears his throat. “We will go and look for the serum, Rachel and I. Then we will have it when you see us again.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I snap. I stare at the motel wall, hard, the tiny bumps and smudges. The terrible painting of boats on the bay. “I may not be here when he comes back. If he comes back. If he’s going to be this much of an idiot…” My voice wobbles, and I stop.

  I mean it, I realize. Maybe it’s time to go home. If he’s just going to leave too. This is so wrong.

  “Enough.” Dedushka reaches out and squeezes Jake’s hand. “Be safe. Contact me as soon as you can, and I will help.”

  I hear Jake stand, shuffle his feet. He circles around the bed to face me, but I stare down at the comforter. I can’t look at him. I can’t watch him leave on a suicide mission.

  He stands there for a second longer, then turns and leaves. I watch his feet go out the door.

  Dedushka pats my leg, awkwardly. “He will be all right.”

  “Will he?” No, I don’t think so. And I’m not going to just sit around and do nothing. I stand, my legs wobbly. “You might be sure of that, but I’m not. I’m at least going to see what happens, witness this meeting. And if Abby and Myka are there, if Smith releases them, they won’t know what’s going on. They need us to help them. Did no one think of that?” I take a deep breath. “I’m going to follow him.”

  Dedushka sighs, but he nods. “I will go with you.”

  I guess I’m not ready to go home quite yet.

  *

  We follow Jake at a distance as he takes a crazy route, doubling back on himself and stopping often to check behind him. If Dedushka wasn’t here, and leading, Jake would have totally spotted me. It’s 9 am, and it’s already a thousand degrees out here, plus steamy. I wipe the sweat off my face with the back of my arm, trying to keep Jake in sight.

  Why am I here? The thought nags at me. Why don’t I just walk away, go back home?

  Jake stops again at the edge of a big park, a long stretch of wiry grass and random trees. When he looks back I spin on my heel and head the other direction for a minute or so before I turn again and look back. He’s still staring this way. I think he sees me. Dedushka, as usual, has melted into the crowd. I don’t know how he does that.

  Jake and I lock eyes for a long second. Then he smiles a little, and dives into the park.

  For this very moment, I’m here still because of him. First it was just curiosity. But now…I try to imagine life at home, without having any clue where he is and that he’s okay. Life with Mom.

  I can’t.

  Dedushka and I push forward, and cross the street to the park. I don’t see Abby and Myka, or Mr. Smith, or any of his guys. Just Jake, an old lady slowly shuffling down a path a ways off, and a couple on the other side on a bench, kissing.

  Jake lopes around the park, scanning everything, while Dedushka and I stay at the edge looking in. Eventually Jake leans against a tree, arms crossed. Nothing happens for a long time. Maybe nothing is going to happen. Maybe this was all just a false alarm, and Mr. Smith didn’t get his message at all.

  Then I see movement.

  It’s not Mr. Smith, or Abby and Myka. It’s a single huge man in a blue suit and tie, walking slowly towards Jake. He says something, smiles, and holds out a hand for Jake to shake.

  I don’t think this is what was supposed to happen.

  “Dedushka?” I say.

  “I see,” he replies, tightly. “It is not good.”

  Jake says something else, his hands up. A plea. Another man, also in a suit, appears beside the first. The big man holds up his left hand, and I see the glint of a needle. I start to step forward, to stop it somehow, but Dedushka puts a hand on my arm.

  “It was not the plan,” he says, low. “But it will still get him where he needs to be.”

  Jake turns to run. But the man is fast. Jake slips on the grass, and the big man tackles him, and shoves the needle in his arm. I press my hand against my mouth, to keep from screaming. Jake slowly closes his eyes, and the two men pick him up and carry him between them, off the other direction.

  No one sees, except us. No one cares. But Jake is really gone.

  5

  MYKA

  Taken by One Direction

  Mom and I huddle together on the floor at the back of the van. They still won’t tell us where we’re going, or what’s going on. The two men, big military-type guys, jumped in the van at Vladimir’s house. One hot-wired the van while the other threw handcuffs on us in two seconds flat, laid us down on the floor, and told us not to scream. He said we were safe, and they weren’t going to hurt us.

  I screamed my head off. He slapped his hand across my mouth and nose until I had to stop, because I couldn’t breathe. His hand smelled like hot metal, like fireworks. Mom was so scared she started crying. When he let go, I cried too. My face still feels puffy.

  Of course we’re not safe. He’s only saying that so we won’t panic. Someone took us because of Jake, and none of the choices are good.

  From what Jake told us, I’m guessing it’s Crazy Smith. He’s probably going to torture us or something…until what? We don’t know anything. Maybe just until he gets Jake to come to him.

  We’ve been driving all night, though I can’t see where. I think it’s north, because of the sun. But I remember Mrs. Wynn’s geography class, and the giant puzzle of the U.S…everything is north of Florida. All I can see from the floor is sun and blue sk
y, and then stars, with trees flying past. The men take turns, one sitting in the chair looming over us and one driving. They won’t let us talk to each other at all. We pulled over for a while in the middle of the night so the driver could sleep, and Mom whispered to me to just keep calm, and we’d be all right.

  That made me cry hard, somehow, which made the watcher guy tell me to shut up, which woke the driver guy up, swearing.

  It’s better just to keep quiet, I guess. Until we get wherever we’re going.

  It doesn’t make any sense. Why take us? Why not take Jake, when he was right there?

  I wish Dedushka was here. Out of all of us, he would know what to do, even more than Jake. He would protect us.

  I finally fall asleep after a while, curled up next to Mom. I forget where we are, and dream about home, about being late for a chemistry test. And then I get there, and there’s a list of procedures I need to do, but I don’t have any equipment, and no one will help me.

  The watcher guy pokes me in the side. “Wake up,” he growls. “We’re almost there.”

  “Where’s ‘there’?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer. He pulls us up, one at a time, and sits us on the back seats. Mom helps so I don’t fall off. Finally, I can see out the windows.

  We’re in mountain country, the road crowded by huge pine trees. I can smell them a little bit, a fresh scent that reminds me of camping. Back when we were all together as a family, Mom and Dad and me and Jake, Dad would pack us up in the car and drive to the mountains, put up a tent and build a campfire. I loved it. It made me so happy, sitting around the campfire at night looking at the stars, talking about nothing. Or Dad quizzing me on the elements, or constellations.

  And s’mores.

  It was only two years ago, but everything has changed. I still can’t believe Dad’s not dead. Jake says it’s true, that he saw him, but it doesn’t fit. Why would he lie to us like that? Why would he go away if he didn’t have to?

  If he were around, if he hadn’t left, would any of this have happened?

  I press my leg up against Mom’s. She presses back, silently.

  We turn off onto a dirt road that winds up into the hills. After a long time the road gets narrower, then goes between two big hills into a little valley. The road ends at another hill. Seriously, there are no buildings or anything. The road just ends.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  The watcher guy looks at me, but doesn’t reply. The van pulls up in front of the hill, and suddenly I see it: there’s a door. A truck-size square metal door, set right into the hill, painted the same color as the dirt. It’s really hard to see unless you’re right next to it. The driver says something into a radio and the door starts to slide up, the metal grinding.

  It’s like the Doors of Durin in Lord of the Rings. It’d be really cool if it weren’t terrifying.

  Mom and I look at each other, eyebrows up. My heart starts thumping. Who would have a place like this? Smith? Some crime lord? Why would they bring us here?

  We drive in, to a massive garage full of military vehicles, most in camo. There’s even a helicopter, parked on a truck. The van stops, and I expect something to happen. But there’s a long wait, while Mom and I just sit there. Then, finally, the back doors open.

  There’s a little group of men in military uniform standing there waiting for us.

  Standing at the front, watching us coolly, is Dad. Mom gasps, but I just stare, my brain locking. That was the last thing I expected.

  It wasn’t Crazy Smith who took us at all. It was Dad.

  6

  JAKE

  Judas by Cage the Elephant

  I wake up slowly. That drug disorients me. It takes a while to figure out where I am, what’s going on. But I remember, before I open my eyes. Smith. I gave myself up, for Mom and Myka. He tricked me, didn’t do it the way I asked, but his man came. I should be with Smith now.

  I have to step very, very carefully here.

  “I know you’re awake, Mr. Lukin. You may as well join the party.”

  At the sound of his voice a wildfire of rage flames through me, almost uncontrollable. Almost. I have to be smart.

  I open my eyes, expecting a gun, a cell. Instead I see a fancy chandelier, high above. I seem to be lying on a sofa. I try to move my hands, but I can’t. They’re handcuffed in front of me. Well, I suppose that’s not a surprise.

  It smells, oddly, like cinnamon.

  I swing my legs down to a carpet—my feet are bare; I can feel the soft fibers with my toes—and sit up, woozy.

  “That’s a good boy. Your breathing changes when you wake, you know. I can tell. And I do so hate deceit, even passive.”

  I blink two times, three, and he comes into focus. Salt-and-pepper hair, strong chin, crazed pale blue eyes. He’s in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, sitting behind a gigantic wooden desk. His fingers tap impatiently.

  “Where are my mother and sister?” I growl. “You were supposed to bring them with you, let them go when you took me. What have you done with them?”

  He stares at me for a long second, frowning. Then he lifts his chin. “I have them somewhere safe.” His voice turns mocking. “Why, were you worried?”

  Smart. Stay smart. Stay…

  The rage wins, and I leap for him, arms raised. Powerful, meaty hands grip my shoulders before I even get to standing, and press me back into the sofa.

  “Now, now. None of that.”

  I twist my neck to look back, up. A goon I’ve never seen before towers above me. From here he looks at least 7 feet tall, with shoulders like planks. Different than the one who brought me in. He looks down at me impassively. Okay then. Back to smart.

  “To what we were discussing,” Smith says. He pulls a yellow pencil from an artfully arranged cup and rolls it on the desk with the flat of his hand, up, back. Up, back. The desk is dark wood, cherry maybe, polished to a high gloss. Totally empty, except the cup and two manila folders. “Your mother and sister will remain safe as long as you do exactly what I want.”

  “No.” I swallow bile, my voice rising. “You let them go. I’m here like you wanted, why you took them. Why you killed Vladimir in cold blood. That’s why I called you. Let them go now.”

  He raises both eyebrows. “I made no agreement with you, Mr. Lukin. And remember, I have no rules. I told you that explicitly, when we first met. I have to do nothing. However…” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “I will make an agreement now, for clarity’s sake. You stay here, tunnel for me…and do me no harm…and they will stay safe and well.”

  Stay with him? He doesn’t want to sell me? I shake my head. The hands press slightly harder, pushing me down. “No. I’ll stay. I’ll work for you. Whatever. But I want them freed, now.”

  “But think, Mr. Lukin. For just a moment, try to think.” He picks up the pencil, snaps it in half with one motion, and throws the jagged pieces at me. I flinch away, startled, and one bounces over the sofa behind me. Casually he pulls another pencil out of the cup, starts rolling it across the desk like that never happened. “Why would I release them? They are my leverage that you will work, and work well.” He stops, narrows his eyes. “Speaking of leverage, where is that pretty girl who was with you last time? Aw. Did you have a falling out?”

  I try not to think about Rachel, where she is. Like he’s some sort of mind reader, and if I think of her location he’ll know.

  Maybe she went back home. I almost hope she did, so she can be safe. Though what’s to prevent Smith from snatching her up too? As “leverage”?

  He pretends to pout. “Too bad. I would’ve liked to see her again.”

  I stare down at the white carpet. The sofa is red, crimson, like blood. The whole room is decorated like an old-time mobster’s living room. I bet he gets off on that. “Where are we?” I ask, through my teeth.

  “Oh! Yes. I did not properly welcome you.” He stands abruptly, walks around the desk, and leans back against it, ankles crossed. Every move seems calculated, p
osed. “My apartment in Washington, D.C. I find it so handy to be close to the…centers of influence. That’s why I have decided to keep you to myself for a while. Everyone in this town has secrets they’re trying to protect, are willing to pay, or trade, to protect. You will be very useful.”

  “Like a chained dog,” I snap. I won’t admit yet that this isn’t working out the way I thought, that I should’ve come at it another way. But the knowledge is settling in my gut. He can’t keep me and Mom and Myka. That wasn’t the plan.

  He brightens. “We can get you a collar if you like.” I glare at him, the hands still heavy on my shoulders. “No? Too bad. It was a good image. In any case, I’ll sweeten the deal, offer you something else.” He waves a hand at the guy behind me, and the hands suddenly lift. I breathe like I’d forgotten how, and roll my shoulders. I can still feel him, though, looming above me. “No, no, I know that your mother and sister being free is all you want. Blah blah blah. But if you can’t have them free, you want them well, yes? If you stay good and work for me, I won’t hurt them. Not even a little bit.”

  My fists clench, involuntarily. “Incentive,” I say, hoarsely. “And you’ll hurt them if I don’t do what you want?”

  “That’s right.” He smiles, like a businessman in a meeting. It’s unnerving. “See, I’d like to not be forced to lock you up somewhere. It’s so much easier if I can let you roam freely, not have to deal with handcuffs and prison cells and such. Liesel may like those things, but I do not. I feel, with the way you are, that I can only give you freedom if you have an incentive to play along.” He folds his arms, stares down at me with his spooky blue eyes. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Lukin?”

  I hate this man, more than I thought you could hate anyone. More than Dad, more than Liesel. But it’s another one of those impossible situations. I have no leverage except the work I’ll do.

  I hold out my hands for him to take the handcuffs off. “Don’t you touch a hair on their heads, you bastard.”