Chapter 40: Will

Will was thrilled and amazed to see Truman and Lucy safe. The other dead people—a tall, beautiful woman, and a big man in overalls with a ruined face—looked peculiar to Will, but not dangerous at all.

“Truman!” Rachel said as they got close. “You’re safe. And you found Lucy.”

“How did you find us?” Truman asked. Will thought that was an odd greeting, and Truman didn’t sound like his usual self. If the abuse were as Rachel had described, it didn’t surprise Will to find Truman aloof and suspicious, but it was still a bit of a shock, given how trusting and generous he’d always been.

“The girl back at the tent told us to follow you this way,” Rachel said. She also sounded different—a little hurt, it seemed, and contrite.

“How did you know I was in that tent?” Truman sounded even more suspicious with that reply.

“I—” Rachel looked to Will, then Lucy, then back to Truman. “I went there last night. I saw you. I tried to stop them. Then I went and got Will and we knew we had to get you out. God, I’m so sorry we waited. I’m sorry for you, too, Lucy. I didn’t know what was going on.”

Truman looked away. “You didn’t want to know, I think.” Will knew he was right, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to see Rachel hurt by the accusations. He just wanted to get out of there. It was the last legacy of this place—making them fight and blame one another.

Lucy stepped between them, her hand on Truman’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said softly. Then, a little louder, “I said it’s all right, Truman.”

“If you say so,” he replied, but still didn’t look at Rachel or Will, only at Lucy.

“We need to leave,” Will said. “Rachel and I are going to find the boat and get out of here. You can come with us if you want. I don’t think we can get your friends past the guards, though.”

Truman looked at the beautiful dead lady in the long, fur coat. She smiled at him. “It’s okay, Truman,” she said. “I can go with Lou. You stay with your woman and your friends. You talked about your books every night, when you didn’t talk about your woman. You go with them. We’ll be fine. Right, Lou?”

“Yeah,” the big dead man said. “Go somewhere quiet.”

The lady started to lead him away. “Definitely,” she said. “Or we could make some noise. You think you could fix a car?”

“Maybe. Lou’s not real smart, but you can figure things out and help. I think we could.”

“I think so too.”

“Bye, Truman.”

“Bye, Lou,” Truman said. “Goodbye, Ramona.”

“You take care,” she said over her shoulder as she and the one they called Lou walked away. Her eyes weren’t as dull as other dead people’s, and her smile flashed again. It was a funny thought, but Will couldn’t help admiring how Truman got all the prettiest dead ladies to like him. Sometimes being nice did pay off, he supposed, though he wished Truman were being nicer now, like he used to be.

Will rummaged in one of the bags they’d brought. “Guys, I know this isn’t nice,” he said, “but I think if we’re going to get past the guards, it should look like you are restrained. I got some rope, a couple belts. You can put them on loosely. It’s just until we get on the boat.”

Truman glared at the restraints, but Lucy stepped forward and took them from Will. “Good idea,” she said as she put the belt around Truman’s neck. He acquiesced to her touch, but still stole angry glances at Rachel, who stood farther away. She was partly turned away from them, but it looked to Will like she was crying.

Lucy turned her back to Truman so he could put the other belt on her. She paused and considered Rachel for a moment.

Lucy turned her attention back to Will. “You got a knife in there?” she said.

“Sure.” Will pulled out a thin boning knife with about an eight-inch blade from the bag. “You want it?” This had to be the first time he’d felt better about Lucy having a weapon, rather than Truman.

“Yes,” Lucy said as she took it, slipping it under the sleeve of her sweater. She turned to tie Truman’s hands together.

Will saw the handle of a Beretta in the bag as well. “You want a gun, too?” he said, offering it to Lucy. Maybe if he showed he trusted Lucy, Truman’s mood would soften.

Lucy smiled and extended her hands toward Will, with her wrists together. “No,” she said. “Thank you for showing me how to use one before. I needed to know. But I don’t want one now. Tie my hands, please. Loose, like you said.”

Will stuck the Beretta under his belt in back, then started tying Lucy as she’d asked. He looked up at her as he worked, and she leaned her forehead against his again, as she had when they were on the boat, weeks before. This time it felt cold against his, but still oddly reassuring. They were as ready as they were going to be to try to make it to the boat.