Desperation Point

by Malcolm Richards

  The atmosphere in the house had changed because the new boy wouldn’t stop crying. Even now, his relentless wails were grating Cal’s ears.

  Heath and Morwenna had already had enough of the noise. They’d been taking turns watching over the man in the basement, but now they shared the duty together.

  Even the younger children, who were always filled with energy and delight, had changed. Now, they spoke in tiny whispers and all of them had stopped smiling. But it wasn’t just the boy making Cal grow increasingly restless, or the boy’s father tied up in the basement.

  It had been days since he’d last seen his mother. Days that felt like years. The longer he spent away from her, the more he was convinced she was forgetting him.

  And what about that man? Had he been busy whispering in his mother’s ear while Cal had been kept away?

  Cal couldn’t bear not knowing. He couldn’t bear being kept inside this house like a prisoner. With every second that passed by, he could feel the cord that connected them gradually wearing thin. If he didn’t see her soon, he knew the cord would snap.

  Pacing the hall, Cal tried to shut out the boy’s sobs. Somewhere, deep down inside, he understood his desperation. All the boy wanted was to be reunited with his father. All he wanted was to go back to his toys and his home and his safe little world.

  But that was all gone now. And the quicker the boy got used to the idea, the better it would be for him.

  For everyone.

  Cal stopped in the doorway of the meeting room. Alison was sat cross-legged in the centre of the threadbare carpet, a lantern flickering next to her. Two of the younger children, Judith and Ben, sat beside her, taking turns to roll a ball. The boy sat on the other side, his tear-stained face shining in the lantern light. They all looked up as Cal stood in the doorway. The boy’s cries grew louder.

  “You’re scaring him, Cal!” Alison said, her voice tired and exasperated. She was two, maybe three years older than Cal, yet behind her eyes she looked as if she’d lived a lifetime. “Why don’t you go and see if Celia needs help with the dishes?”

  Cal ignored her, his gaze moving from Judith and Ben to the crying boy. Shut up, he thought. Shut up or I’ll make you shut up. He didn’t know the boy’s name. No one did. Jacob would give him a new one, anyway. He’d given everyone new names. Everyone except Cal. Jacob had said his name was already strong and powerful.

  Fists clenching and unclenching, Cal backed away from the room and glanced along the hall. He could hear Celia moving around in the kitchen, cleaning up after the evening meal. Screwing up his face, he turned in the opposite direction and wandered through the shadows, until he came to the basement door.

  Curiosity pulled at him. Opening the door, he stared into the darkness. Cold crept up the steps like a fog. The sharp smell of mildew hung in the air. Cal cocked his head and listened. The boy’s cries rang in his ears.

  I’ll slit your throat. That will keep you quiet.

  No! He’s scared, that’s all. He’ll calm down soon.

  You’re weak, boy! Nothing but a disappointment.

  Cal descended into the darkness.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps, the boy’s sobs faded away. A little of the tension left Cal’s shoulders. He moved forward, running his hands along the corridor walls. He didn’t need a lantern. Having spent years in Grady Spencer’s basement, he was quite accustomed to moving around in the dark.

  A faint light flickered in the near distance. It was coming from beneath a door. He knew the man was in there somewhere. Heath and Morwenna, too. He’d never been into that room. He was forbidden. He wasn’t even supposed to be down here.

  Pressing his ear against the wood, Cal listened. He heard movement, someone walking around. He heard low whispers. Then he heard a dull thud, followed by a short, sharp gasp. They were hurting the man. That’s what they were doing. He pressed his ear to the wood again. He caught his breath. Someone was leaving the room. Stepping back, Cal turned and hurried back down the corridor. Behind him, the door opened and a voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “I know you’re there, Cal,” Jacob said. “Come into the light where I can see you.”

  Cal hovered for a moment, trying to make himself small.

  “Don’t be afraid. Fear is weakness,” Jacob said.

  Slowly, Cal made his way back to the door. He appeared from the shadows like a ghost.

  Jacob stood in the doorway, his face glowing in the lantern light. “You’re not supposed to be here. How long have you been standing outside?”

  Cal shrugged.

  He kept his eyes on the ground, then remembering it was also a sign of weakness, looked up into Jacob’s eyes.

  “You’re curious,” Jacob said. “I understand that. But curiosity leads to questions. And when we question, we doubt. I know you would never doubt me, would you?”

  Cal’s eyes wandered to the side and over Jacob’s shoulder.

  “Would you, Cal?”

  He snapped his gaze back. Slowly, he shook his head.

  In the lantern light, Jacob smiled. “Good, that’s very good. All you need to know right now is that this is all part of your journey to enlightenment. Tomorrow, will be the second part of your test. Then you’ll truly be awakened.” He shifted in the doorway, peering over his shoulder for a second, then back at Cal. “This evening’s lesson will begin shortly. Tell Alison to take the boy upstairs. Is he still upset?”

  Cal nodded.

  “It won’t be forever. Soon he’ll join the Dawn Children with open arms, and you’ll lead him along the path to glory. Now, off you go.” Jacob shut the door, plunging Cal back into darkness.

  He stood for a moment, listening to Jacob walk away. Then he turned and made his way along the corridor. He reached the top of the steps. The boy’s sobbing attacked his ears once more.

  Suddenly there was no air in the house. Suddenly all Cal could think about was to be running free outside. Keeping his feet light, he moved along the hall until he reached the meeting room. He pointed to the boy then pointed at the ceiling. Alison nodded and clapped her hands.

  “Come on little ones, let’s take our friend here upstairs.”

  Cal moved on. His chest grew tighter. His lungs burned. He felt the darkness call to him. He hurried past the kitchen. Then slid to a halt. The kitchen had been empty.

  Backing up, he peered through the doorway. Pots were neatly stacked and drying on the drainer. A kettle of water was heating on the stove. But Cynthia was nowhere to be seen.

  He could go outside.

  Just for a moment. Just to breathe in some fresh air. Besides, he’d been good, hadn’t he? He’d stayed at the farm for days. He’d passed his test. He’d done as he’d been told. Didn’t he deserve a reward for that? Didn’t he deserve to step out, even for a minute?

  He glanced over his shoulder and checked the hallway. Then he was moving through the kitchen and unbolting the locks of the back door.

  What do you think you’re doing?

  He opened the door a crack.

  Are you listening to me, boy?

  The evening chill rushed over him. Before he realised it, he was standing in the yard, sucking in lungsful of air.

  Do not defy me, you worthless runt! You know what will happen if you go there!

  Before he could stop himself, Cal was moving through the darkness, crouched down like an animal. And then he was racing toward Devil’s Cove.

  If he cut through the fields, he could be there in twenty minutes, eighteen if he pushed himself.

  He’d take a quick look. That was all he needed. A quick look to see if his mother had forgotten him. He would be back before the evening lesson had even begun.

  33

  THE LIVING ROOM WAS quiet. Carrie sat on one end of the couch, while Dylan sat on the other. Neither of them had spoken in several minutes. Carrie’s eyes kept moving toward the drinks cabinet. But she knew this was not the time. She knew that things were hanging by a thread.

  Mel
issa and Sally were upstairs. They had all had an awkward dinner together. Sally had kept glaring across the table at Carrie, her eyes full of contempt. Dylan had avoided looking at her and had barely said a word the entire meal. Even Melissa had stayed quiet.

  They were all blaming her. But this was not Carrie’s fault. They weren’t even supposed to be here. This is what happened when her mother tried to interfere.

  Carrie risked a glance at Dylan.

  Who was she trying to kid? This was all her fault. And now she had made it worse. Because she had lied to Dylan, to her mother, to her daughter. She had told them that yes, she’d invited the writer over, but not to help him with his book, not to be interviewed, but because she’d wanted to know why he was here. Why he thought it was a good idea to be writing a book about all the terrible things that had happened to her family. And although that wasn’t a lie exactly, she had omitted everything else.

  Now she was worried. More than worried.

  If Dylan found out what she’d agreed to, if he knew what she now knew, things would suddenly be a lot worse. Melissa wouldn’t be upstairs, sleeping in her room. The police would probably be here, or on their way to Aaron’s hotel wanting to question him. And maybe that was the right thing to happen. Maybe this really all should come to an end.

  But she couldn’t let that happen. She had to try one last time. And if it paid off, if she was able to save her son, then it would all be worth it.

  She felt Dylan’s eyes upon her.

  “What were you thinking?” he said. There wasn’t anger in his voice, just disappointment and confusion. “We’d already discussed this, Carrie.”

  “It hadn’t really been a discussion though, had it?” she replied. “You told me not to see him.”

  “I suppose I did. Now I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t told you about him, you wouldn’t have asked him here.”

  “This is a small town. I would have found out about him sooner or later.”

  “So, you would have seen him anyway? You wouldn’t even care about the effect it would have on our family?”

  Carrie shook her head. “Dylan. . .”

  She didn’t want to have this conversation. She just wanted them to leave. To stay. For their lives to return to normal. To get her son back. She could see the hurt in Dylan’s eyes. The betrayal. It made her heart ache.

  “Honestly, I don’t know why I asked him here.” Another lie. What was she doing? “I guess, maybe I just wanted to know what he knew. I guess maybe I thought. . .”

  Dylan looked at her. His shoulders heaved. “You thought maybe he knew where to find Cal?”

  Carrie turned away. She was making things worse. She should just tell him what they had really discussed. Then it would all be out in the open. She glanced back at him, forcing her eyes to stay on his face. But all she saw was sadness now. Sadness and a broken heart.

  Then Dylan knocked the air from her lungs.

  “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said. “I just . . . I mean, I can’t. . .”

  Carrie’s mouth fell open. Her heart thumped in her chest. But she stayed silent, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

  Dylan remained quiet. He wouldn’t even look at her.

  “Dylan. . .” How did she stop this? How did she make him change his mind? “I just. . . I just need a little more time.”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Jesus, Carrie!” Dylan threw his hands in the air. “I know, all right? It’s all you ever tell me—you need more time. But you’ve had more and more time, and nothing’s changed. Not a single thing! Actually, that’s not true. Melissa’s changed. This is killing her. And I can’t let that happen.”

  The room wavered. Carrie shook her head. Fear crept up her throat. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I have to put Melissa’s best interests first. I have to bring some stability back to her life.”

  “Don’t you mean we? We have to bring stability back to her life?”

  Dylan finally looked up, meeting her gaze. “But you’re not even trying, are you? If you were, then you wouldn’t have had that writer here today. You wouldn’t be drinking your damn life away!”

  Carrie’s heart stopped. How did he know?

  But it was obvious. Sally.

  Carrie opened her mouth to protest. To claim her innocence. But it would just be another lie. And she had told so many lies to Dylan lately that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d told him the truth.

  Worse still, now she was angry with him.

  “So, what is this?” she hissed. “Some sort of ultimatum? Get over it or get out?”

  She wanted him to lose his temper. To shout at her. Then he could be the villain. The awful husband that didn’t understand, that demanded she snap out of it, press the reset button like she was nothing more than a Stepford wife.

  But Dylan didn’t get angry. He just grew sadder.

  “I want my wife back. I want my family back. I want us to be happy again. But I want Melissa to stop having nightmares. I want her to stop wondering if she’s ever going to come back home. And it’s you, Carrie. It’s you that’s making me choose between our daughter and my wife.”

  He hung his head and turned away. It was hard to tell in the low light, but Carrie was sure that she saw a tear slip from his eye.

  Guilt knocked the wind from her stomach. She was tearing her family apart. She was spreading her misery like a disease, poisoning everyone in her path. But what was she supposed to do?

  Whether he knew it or not, Dylan was asking her to choose between her children. And she knew that she may have already lost one, she knew that she may never get him back, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t still save him. And she had to save him. Because no one else would; not even Aaron Black—because as well-intentioned as he seemed, his motivation to reunite mother and son was driven only by fame and success.

  Carrie’s head swelled with confusion. She looked up. Reached out a hand. “Dylan. . .” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what to think anymore. She didn’t want to think any more.

  Dylan turned toward her, his sad eyes glistening. She had never seen him look so lost. So afraid.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you, too,” he said. “This is tearing me apart.”

  Carrie got up and moved beside him. She took his hand in hers. Kissed the back of it. Turned it over and kissed his palm.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Can’t we just forget about it for one evening? Can’t we just pretend everything is fine just for an hour?”

  She reached up and kissed him. It had been so long since she’d felt her lips on his without feeling only numbness. Now, she felt electricity crackle between them.

  Dylan pulled away, his eyes piercing hers.

  “Forgetting doesn’t fix anything,” he said. “Forgetting just puts everything off.”

  Carrie leaned forward and kissed him again. This time he kissed her back. She reached up a hand and gripped the back of his neck. Then his arms were around her and it was as if none of the horror of the last few months had ever happened.

  It was like they’d gone back in time, to when they’d first met. To when passion had been unbridled and the touch of Dylan’s lips on hers had meant everything. But then, as they lay down together on the sofa, their bodies pressing against each other, their hands grasping, Carrie felt her body run cold. And she realised that she didn’t know if she was allowing this to happen because she wanted to save their marriage, or if it was because she wanted to save her son.

  34

  HE’D MADE IT IN SIXTEEN minutes. He’d counted the seconds in his head. Now, he was crouched behind a parked car, sweat making his clothes stick, frosty plumes billowing from his mouth as he tried to catch his breath.

  It felt dangerous to be here so early; there were lights still on in people’s homes all over town. But here, hidden in the shadows outside his former home, C
al felt safe. But that protection could be torn away at any moment.

  Still sitting on his haunches, Cal spun around. His breathing was a little steadier now, but his heart was racing. Pushing himself up, he peered over the car, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother.

  His blood ran cold.

  She was in the living room, sitting on the couch. And she was not alone.

  He was in there. Dylan. His arm draped over her shoulder. And she was leaning into him. She was happy he was there.

  Dylan Killigrew, who had never wanted Cal. Who had done everything in his power to turn Cal’s mother against him.

  He wasn’t the only one here, either. A light was on upstairs. In Melissa’s bedroom. They were here. They had come back.

  And they were going to stay.

  For a second, Cal felt shut out, abandoned like an unwanted animal. Then his hands balled into fists and he pressed them to his temples. Hate boiled his insides.

  I told you, boy. Didn’t I warn you? Didn’t I tell you she doesn’t care?

  Grady Spencer had been right all along. His mother had never wanted him. Not from the day he was born. And she’d been glad when he’d disappeared because it meant she could have another child, one that she loved. Because she had never loved him the way that she loved Melissa.

  Trembling uncontrollably, Cal checked the street, then like a cat, stole across the road and through the garden gate.

  He was moving on autopilot, barely aware of his actions as he made his way along the path, until he was beside the living room window, pressed against the wall. He leaned out a little and stole a glance inside.

  The hate inside him burst into fire.

  They were kissing. Carrie and Dylan. Kissing with their hands all over each other.

  She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want me. All this time I thought she cared. All this time I thought she was waiting for me to come home.

  Dylan and Melissa were going nowhere. How long would it be before Cal’s room was turned back into a home office?